It's been a long time since I've been here.
It's past 4 A.M. and sleep still eludes me. I would love to say that anxiety is an understatement, but in the hyperbolic time I live in I'd rather just admit that it's the perfect word. I only learned it a short time ago, and it seems like I've had the opportunity to become very familiar with it, since. For some reason, I really want to use the word contentment right now. Not because it's in any way related to how I feel, but a lot of the words are coming to me in a very melodic tone, and for some reason I really needed to get it on the page.
Here I am again, at a crossroads, attempting to choose between two things, neither of which I feel like I had a choice in in the first place. I feel like a puppet of Fate. And not even one of Fate's favorite puppets. I'm the one Fate looks for when it needs a background character to die so that one of the better puppets can come to a shocking realization about how good or evil they are. I don't even feel like the hero in my own story. Like for some reason, my name is on the front, but I'm just meant to be someone's sidekick. I'm rambling. It makes it so much easier for me to avoid looking my problems in face. I have to take a leap. And there's a chance that my parachute isn't even there, and I won't be able to find that out until I'm already in the air.
These metaphors are sloppy. I drove 11 hours straight today, and felt the sweet caress of sleepiness over my eyes as I entered my apartment. But my mind is running faster than sleep can keep up. It's been this way for weeks. What do responsible adults do in this situation? I bet the answer is drugs. Whether it's processed by a guy in a lab coat, or a guy in a meth lab, or grown in someone's locker. That's not me. I need to take this hit to the face and just hope I don't cry in front of people... too much...
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