knowledge to be gleaned.

Sometimes insights come at a most inopportune time. It’s like receiving a calling on Prozac. Is it real, is it me? You wonder. How could I be the same person in that moment as I am sober? We’re two different people, in truth, though you would not know it. Scary thought. Someone’s coming.

Panic. Except I can’t. I just cover his eyes. Can’t see. Like a fucking elephant in the room or something. Makes it awkward, makes it wrong. Is it wrong because I said so, or because they said so. Nothing makes sense, nothing is real. Too much poisons the brain. Can’t think straight. In an awful, horrible fog. Hurts. Make it stop. 

It doesn’t have to make sense. Because in the end it’s only me, and I’m the only one that matters.

Is it dirty that I didn’t wash my hands?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s