i_am_ghost

You know how when you almost get in a car accident, but you know you were in the right and they were in the wrong, you still sort of second guess yourself? Maybe I was the one who was meant to give way.. And I defended myself on the outside by saying it out loud, that they were in the wrong. And yet on the inside I was hoping they weren't a learner driver or a P-plater and that they weren't shook up, because they stalled the car. I saw it in the rear vision mirror.

I have little battles with myself every day. I don't complain or voice anything outwardly. I just fight on with my own brain and heart and the two battle it out against each other, and sometimes as one against reality. I decide without logic or proof how situations are and play out scenarios in my head. What would it be like to be stupid or shallow or without a conscience.. and not have to be worried or anxious or sad? It's a question I've asked before.

I wonder if there are people out there.. whether art imitated life on that episode of the Simpsons when Homer found out that there was a crayon lodged in his brain and when it was removed he was actually a brilliant man, but was able to, because it is fiction, a cartoon, re-lodge it in his brain to reconnect with Lisa. I wonder if there are people who do a self-harm equivalent.. instead of physically hurting yourself to deal with emotional pain, whether they can mentally hurt themselves to stop themselves from thinking and knowing and fighting with yourself.

I guess it's called alcohol. Or substance abuse. To some extent. But I find that at least with alcohol I still battle with myself. Except that it is intensified. Maybe I just didn't drink enough.

Maybe I need to grow thicker skin, and let things be. Immerse myself in something lovely that keeps my thoughts, not rely on other people to make me happy. I'm actually OK though. When I think about where I've been and where I am, I'm significantly better. And yet I'm still very contemplative at this juncture. Maybe it's the girl I like in the lounge room having fun with my friends instead of me, or coming home again to a house full of drunk people and loud music. Maybe I just want to go to sleep but can't because of the lack of a door or wall or anything to keep noise or light or people away from me. Or maybe it's because I want to stay up just in case she comes and sits with me.

Maybe I should just not try and let things come to me.

It worked once, for the first time ever, last year. At least for a month. Turns out she was a whore.