Sean (darksoul) wrote,

  • Music:

There ain't no magic in the break down baby...

There are days where I can make it from sunrise to sunset without giving life much thought, my social programming fully functional. Smile, be pleasant, be witty, entertain others, please the crowd. I'm the frontman of a one-man band that can't hold a tune but just enough people keep coming out for my shows, so I try my best to keep it real for them.

There are days where I find myself going offroad in my own mind, kicking up mud and revealing skeletons long buried. The trunk is loaded up with so much baggage, I didn't know I even owned that much luggage. I'm taking state highways and dirt roads and backwood paths, trying to find someplace to bury my ghosts, trying to find someplace that'll bring me peace.

Sometimes I'm just going through the motions and hoping no one will notice that the glow has faded from my eyes. An automaton, wake work rest wake work rest wake work rest. I'm on autopilot and my feet know where they're expected to be. My soul is comatose and unresponsive.

Reality and I are rarely on good terms with one another. I often find myself looking back on things that have happened earlier in the day or earlier in the week and have trouble deciding if those things even occured or if it was a remnant of one of my terribly bland dreams still floating about from the night before. Diaconcerting doesn't even begin to describe the feeling you get when you can't decide if a vivid memory in your own brain is real or not. Maybe it's fatigue, maybe I'm just losing my grip, maybe everyone experiences it and I just feel like I'm unique. Yesterday morning I dreamed I had a brief conversation with my new boss at the MS Society about when I'd be into the office for the day. While I was showering I remembered the call but couldn't remember if it was a dream or not. I checked my phone after I got out of the shower, but no call had been logged. Is this what being an insomniac feels like? Sleep is both my poison and my cure, filling my head with dreams of flight and saving my waking mind from madness. What I need is rest, but that's the one thing that's eluded me for so long that I don't know that I'd recognize it if I found it.
Tags: personal writing project

  • My tweets

    Sun, 17:56: RT @ kathbarbadoro: matt damon is from boston. when he said he was retiring the f slur from his vocabulary he meant he was hanging…

  • My tweets

    Fri, 09:11: RT @ JohnFugelsang: Dear Democrats: This level of hysteria shows just how terrified the GOP is that white people are going to…

  • My tweets

    Sun, 04:05: RT @ NoLieWithBTC: Lauren Boebert's restaurant received a $233,305 PPP check and she receives a $174,000 taxpayer-funded salary.

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment