Tags
Anger, anxiety, bipolar, black sheep, Blame, Communication skills, crisis, Demon, denial, Depression, Dirty, Downward Spiral, dream, episode, Family, Father, fears
Pixies – Debaser
“Hajime!” he yells, begin in Japanese. A man that’s been dead at least 10 years now.
In the background a light and airy 1920’s dance tune, “Doh, doh, dee doh!” with that annoyingly bubbly woman’s giggle wafts through the air as if on a tinny radio. I can imagine him in a raccoon coat to his ankles as his jaunty little bowler, a light grey houndstooth check is cocked above his eyebrows. They sing on and it floats as if the radio drifts on the left side of my shoulder.
When I pass the living room door though to go into the dining room I swear I can hear Chuck Norris or maybe some unidentified salesperson droning on about their wonder product. That was back at 2am or thereabouts.
Am I hallucinating or having waking dreams?
The good thing is that the house is not dead silent like it usually is.
I sometimes see a white woman slinking in at the corner of my right handed vision. It’s better than the black things that creep past the doorways. I nearly jerked the juicer off the table when I partially saw one of the cats under the table and he nudged my thigh. I see a lot of things these days. I’m either driving myself crazy or I’m getting close to seeing déjà vus.
My Mother once told me when I asked her that she believed that I could see déjà vus. They were a “trick of the brain”. I don’t think they’re tricks. I think they’re warnings or reassurances that I will not kill myself in the future. I wonder if any will come this time.
Not that I am doing this intentionally. My life is changing. I am coming to a place where something’s going to happen. This for me happens after a long period of apathy for life. I’ll tell you, when you watch so much television and avoid going out into the sunlight for more than a year, and you can barely walk because your back feels crooked and your skin peels when you spend a few hours on the beach while your brother attempts to catch some baby blues, you know you really fell into the hole again.
It makes me feel a bit relieved because alienating the people in my small family will somehow help me. And I have to keep an open mind because it doesn’t mean they’ll accept my decisions and actions. It just means that that particular decision will lead me to the next part of my life. And I have to be ready for more changes.
When I look back on this year, if I was asked what I think happened I’d honestly have to say that I f^cked it up and right well too. My ease of turning pure anger into total indifference has helped me to lower my anxiety. Not enough to cue the agoraphobia but you can’t have everything right?
I used to think I was the soul eater. I would have to wait to die to be emptied. I took on other people’s sins. I agonized and dwelled and brewed in the stench of the things people did and knew but refused to admit to. I couldn’t shut my mouth. I let all my transgressions hang out, uncolorful to me but vivd to others, shocking and striking. I am good at keeping secrets. Other people’s secrets. That’s what happens when you’re f^cked up literally, as a child. They have to condition someone to be in the mental state to accept those kinds of poisons from other people.
People are relieved when they tell you. They love you for listening and taking the burden off their backs. The problem with being a soul eater is that no one wants to be your friend. The sin. It shows. They see your face and it comes back to them. They feel dirty near you. And your own effluvium when it comes out is ugly, hideous even. They see you as debased. You’re like a voodoo doll now. Used and ugly and representative of the act which is ugly and needs to be hidden or tossed out.
That’s why I don’t think I’ll lose this weight. The universe is in confluence with fate and they both dictate that I must physically represent the toxins within. I’m like a living haunted house. All my stories are represented within.
This is the kind of thing I could never tell anyone in my family.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“It just seems that way to you. Tomorrow it will look differently.”
“Yeah, right.”
What do you expect from a family that lives in denial?
“Got me a movie
I want you to know
Slicing up eyeballs
I want you to know
Girlie so groovy
I want you to know
Don’t know about you
But I am un chien Andalusia
I am un chien Andalusia (x3)
Wanna grow
Up to be
Be a debaser
Debaser (x5)
Got me a movie
Ha ha ha hoa
Slicing up eyeballs
Ha ha ha hoa
Girlie so groovie
Ha ha ha hoa
Don’t know about you
But I am un chien Andalusia
I am un chien Andalusia (x3)
Debaser (x5)”