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I Want to Be Bigger.

I'm sorry. I'm a bit of a mess, and when I'm a mess, I get self-centered and ridiculous. I am actually manic at the moment - have been all weekend, which is okay until I get agitated by something (which could be anything) but tonight it was that I went to the gym today and put my rings in my pocket of my pants and then tonight there was only one ring, and all the stuff that's been bugging me lately just came up. i was going to drive to Phoenix - I didn't go because I just didn't feel like I could justify leaving, with so many projects hanging in the air and my place is a mess, so I cleaned it, placed manic nose to the grindstone to make the fine grit of OCD (I am not OCD, were I OCD my place would never be a mess, but as a bipoloar I can occasionally manifest ALL of the mentally ill symptomologies, I can even be schizophrenic but I try not to be...)

I am better now - the ring is still missing and my office is a mess again, because all the piles of random shit that I stacked up on my counter got swept into the center of the room when I was overwhelmed by losing my ring. I kept telling myself it wasn't the ring, that the ring was just a catalyst for all the sad feelings I had all day, that I'm inadequate, that I'm not famous enough, that I'm really just a freaky freak with too much time spent on this stupid computer, banging out nonsense no one wants to read. People tell me I'm a good writer, I get paid for it sometimes too, but I am So Damn Caught Up in the locality in which I live, and really, Santa Fe is a closed circuit most of the fucking time, and I just think my words and stories and ideas belong in a bigger picture and yet I feel so Goddamn Stuck Here.

Sundays are the worst. Always have been, here in Fe. A hush descends over the city of St. Francis, and everyone is home, one presumes, praying or something. But I am a secular humanist, a second-generation hippie whose second coming came and went, or is yet to be within the arcane theological theorems of 2012. So I shiver and try to clean house, to make way for something new and it all just feels so futile, like i'm kidding myself and I start to think of ways to destroy everything around me. The laptop is like a loaded weapon in those moments, and yet I can feel it coming on and I am (mostly) powerless to stop it.

I hurt. No one is here. My floor is a mess (again.) I just wanted to make something perfect and it never works out.

posted by by gregoryp(tm) aka Gregory Pleshaw @ 7:26 PM