Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Face plant

A person can't live like this, with the no-sleep thing going on 75% of the time. I ain't kidding. That's an average of two hours of sleep a night when you add up about a years worth of this crap that's been happening to me. I don't think a person can live like this, anyway... am I a person? I can't live like this is what I mean, I guess. I can only do this for so long... definitely NOT until my natural expiration date, if this method is supposed to keep up until then. This awful, awful method.

I've read everything I could find about it. There's no cure for it except for drugs, drugs, drugs, and those will only dilute the suffering so that it's able to stretch out into a bona fide insanity. Some people have had to endure decades of unrelenting insomnia! I've only been dealing with it for almost two years, so how the heck do these insomnia veterans decide every day NOT to eat a face plant off of an overpass onto the interstate?

There's no cure, there's no help, and there's no hope. I'm stuck inside of the flawed, unwanted and rejected hardware of myself, which is incompatible with the responsibility for my own continuance. My life is a tightly coiled spring, all the time, and I have to move in precise ways and do precise things, all the time, in order to keep the spring from coming all the way unlatched and just blowing everything to hell.

I can't simply take the first steps. I can't take a step back and get a good look at things. I can't just take advantage of what's available. I can't just check myself into a clinic. I can't just find a doctor. I can't just materialize resources. I can't just cast a spell, or dream an epiphany, or visualize a solution, or pray for a miracle, or just figure it out. I can't just decide that I'll do whatever those things might be that will make me ok. I CAN'T DO THAT.

Why? I'm physically capable of DOING, right? So, why? Because there's a severely broken gear in my noggin, is why. Broken, and only held together with the captains spit, like the Millennium Falcon. Isn't that funny?

Have you ever felt immobilized? Just unable to do anything? Anything outside of those blunt force requirements, like going to work, and... I dunno, eating and crapping? That's me. I'm immobilized. Why? Because that's what a true painting of me looks like right now. There's no explaining the reasons for it in vivid detail. There's no nothing about it, at all, ever. There's just the painting as it exists right now.

I'm broken. I can't do anything except go to work, and work like a broken function at work. After work is the only treasure in my life because it's the only time I can feel anything. It's like, being let go, released, and so for a couple of hours after work, and only after work, I'm almost free, a little bit. And the hilarious thing about it is, the insomnia is a symptom of the brokenness. So even if I were somehow miraculously cured of the insomnia, I'D STILL BE BROKEN.

I have a good sense of humor though. A cancerous, puss filled, self-deprecating sense of humor, to be sure... but I've also got an awesome immune system that totally deals with it, so my sense of humor is always healthy. I've also got a full grown appreciation of irony floating around in there, too.

Plus, I'm just a swell guy. And there are people who like me, who really, really like me... and dammit, if I weren't such a swell guy, I'd have eaten that face plant years ago already. But hell... how selfish and not swell would that have been?

This isn't me just being low, and it's not just a mood I'm in. This is baseline for me. Humor and joy and love and hopeful feelings are all... what do you call the jumps and spikes on a graph? Aberrations. Good, calm, peaceful, satisfied, hopeful, ok feelings are all just aberrations. Spikes on a flatline.

I often think about why people decide to off themselves. Sometimes I feel repelled by the thought. That's the normal way to feel about it. I think everybody can understand that feeling, right?

Other times though, I can understand the contemplation of it. I can completely understand why somebody would do it. I mean, I'm right there, at the apex of their logic. I get it, totally.

It's like... understanding that cauliflower is good for for you, but since you don't like cauliflower, you don't eat it. That's what the face plant looks like to me. The face plant is cauliflower, and it's good for me, but it still tastes bad so I'm not gonna take a bite of it. Yuck. Face plant. Sounds way worse than egg plant.

What scares me though is how it's common to just say F it after we've grown up, and then we'll just eat the damn egg plant already. That's totally what people do all the time... they grow up and decide to eat the food they hated when they were a kid. I know, because I can actually stomach some mushroom or some squash now that I'm all growed up, as long as it's dressed up inside of some other flavors. It just has to seem appealing enough to overcome my initial feeling of revulsion, is all.

See what I'm afraid of? See the analogy? Do you see how it feels like an inevitability to me, that I just need to grow a little bit more into the feeling, and then I'll be able to develop enough of a taste for face plant that I'll actually take a bite of it some day, as long as its dressed up inside of a few palatable seasons? I mean reasons?

Maybe I'm just in a crappy mood right now. I don't know. Everything is a circle of crap that eats crap and digests crap and craps crap and sows crap and grows crap and harvests crap and prepares crap and serves crap and eats crap.

Oh well. Maybe I'm just in a crappy mood right now.

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