Oh wow. Three weeks of relative stability and now I'm all worked up again in mad frantic burst on a keyboard just so I can get some kind of grip on the carnival noise blasting through my head. My head my head my head.
Oh it was so clear just a few days ago, I was focused and working hard, undistracted, and hopeful. Now I'm sucker punched with flashes of what could have been,with girls who aren't available, aren't attainable, and the urge to pull the car off the commute to work and sling it onto a highway that points west grabs me harder than you'll ever know, and the only reason I can come up with for not doing it is that I'm gutless. There ain't nothing really keeping me around to haunt bergen county anymore.
I want to drive until I'm away from all the lights and eyes and satellites and panic and music and chances of running into old nervous breakdowns. I can't see any future in hanging around, hoping to fling myself into some milquetoast melodrama that will spiral into paranoia and self loathing. No sir.
And what the hell did I say the other night? Too much whiskey in the firing mechanism that night. Too many beautiful girls swarming around, for me not to dare myself to get rejected.
I'll bounce back.