A few days ago, I was standing by the pool at work, mind clenching, face numb - something like that after a long day of work and being at work was this terrible drag, something pulling on me something awful.
And I was holding this pen behind my back, in my right hand. This metal pen and I bent it until it snapped and it echoed through the courtyard. I looked to my finger and it was torn open, nothing too awful, but not too pretty. And it was bleeding, and I'm looking at it now and the Neosporin I'm now pouring on and into it because it's starting to hurt and I think it's going to have to get amputated because the pain is pretty deep and I keep on envisioning myself with 9 fingers -- a right hand without a thumb and I think that would look pretty cool. Pretty cool.
And I look to my body and I'm looking for scars - worry a day will come when I feel there should be more - that I've been cheated or that I've cheated myself. Then I laugh. Just because they can't be seen...
I remind self - I'm doing a fine job, a good job - that the line is falling, and I toe it as it falls. And I'm mistaking happiness for madness, because there's so much of one or the other at any given moment and it's a lot, asking someone to deal with either or both, everything all at the same time. I just breathe.
Because I'm still learning to be capable -- of handling -- of managing these assets of mind. On nights like this, in the past, I'd head out and grab a drink, let it spiral into something special. And by special, I mean the opposite of. But that's where I'm headed tonight - out to see what's what. I feel alright, like I'm headed somewhere, away from destruction and this is the new path, tonight, for a while...to see what's what...
Show me a faraway land. Show me a faraway land. Show me a faraway land.
