Chance, fortune, and a bit of grace require that I post in somewhat vague terms. I am in my early 30's. I am married. I am desperately sad. I am lost. Work life and married life (an inconsequential ordering) conspire to cause self-pity and a near total loss of control.
Last night I lay awake, crying, sitting up, rocking myself back and forth, prostrate before myself and another, begging for my own forgiveness if not her forgiveness too. I am not sure which person or personality or whatever had appeared at that moment. I do know, though, that last night's plea was a familiar one: as a child of 12, and 16, and 18, then 22 and 25 or 26 I would lay awake at night begging sets of mental images to disappear. Now again in my mid 30's, and under the impression that I have lost or am losing control, I recognized that little boy again.
What brought me there again, I wonder. Some grace and the hope that I will continue to write require that I leave that information for later. I am not a teenager—although I act like one—and because of that I no longer feel certain that the thoughts I have had are real, as I had once been wont to say.
Obsessive, self-righteous, suicidal: a Steppenwolfian tyrant. I am a lunatic in a waiting room.
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