Who?The oh-so-familiar spectral four horsemen of my inner proto-apocalypse, the harbingers of a never-ending state of Koyaanisqatsi.
Self-Doubt, Despair, Agoraphobia and Pessimism.
They relentlessly haunt me in consciousness and in sleep, day and night just as they did periodically throughout the tumultuous years between 2002 and 2005.
Time has become abstract again. I have just in the past few "days?" changed my sleep pattern about four times. I currently stay up until dawn, sleep for a few hours and then try to remain awake throughout the day. I have to keep consulting the computer to know what day it is. I needed it last night when I woke up and saw my alarm clock displaying 7:35. I saw it was dark outside, but I was certain that it was just a very heavily overcast morning. Mildred had to inform me of the fact that it was actually 7:35 PM.
I stay sequestered away from the rest of the world, here in my 10' by 12' self-made isolation chamber. The blinds remain closed.
I don't turn on the TV since I know that images and depictions of happy people with friends and family abound on that evil, evil box. They sing their silly songs of love, joy and seasons greetings. They are indifferent to my desires or needs. The incessant commercials only want me to spend what precious last droplets of money I have left on their products or services which all offer the same false hope and deceptive lies of a better life, more liberty and the pursuit of happiness...if only I call now or visit my neighborhood store...with credit card at the ready, of course.
And now, a fifth galloping apparition has begun to besiege my psyche.
Fear of Death.
I wait for dawn to attempt sleep because I've convinced myself that my heart will fail if I let myself drift away in the darkness of night. I'll start to doze and my thudding heartbeats will grow louder, stronger, faster until they begin to trip up on themselves and in a shattering burst of agonizing pain, I'll begin the frightful and unstoppable rapid countdown to my final minute of life on this earth.
How did I end up on this dark path?
Ever since meeting with Ric two weekends ago at Jax and coming, once again, to the conclusion that our friendship had ceased being real, I decided to cut off, yes, again, all communication with him. He called, of course, and left a voice message or two, wondering why I was "mad at him". I think deep down he must realize, since I've said it to him before and reiterated it that last night at Jax, that I'm not "mad at him", per se. I just don't feel, especially now with what I predict will be a challenging period of employment and financial instability, that his presence around me is conducive to building my self-confidence. In fact, as we know, it's quite the opposite. This dark path would be darker still if I had to endure his criticism and mocking.
But the darkness exists of course in this cold realization:
I now have absolutely no friends. Period.
Even for a self-proclaimed loner like me, that's a scary thing to admit. And socially, it sounds as if I'm the biggest loser there is. I think, at times, well...maybe I am.
Relying on the severance and unemployment checks to come in, I've carefully budgeted for up to the next 60 days and I find it very livable, monetarily.
But there's a toll to pay in such a plan. Though I pride myself at being a slacker, I know too well, that unless a person is truly hoping to become either a dependent sycophant leach to someone who befriends them and agrees to support them, or, to "opt-out" and drop into the world of the homeless and destitute, one must have a means to provide for themselves. And for someone like me, it means employment.
So, at this juncture, I'm continually torn by two opposing desires...
One to live for today, and eat, drink and be merry:
My "Apres mois le deluge" mentality.
The other is, make the effort to search out resources of gainful employment and apply time and labors towards securing a job, without haste:
My "Paris is well worth a Mass" mentality.
Daily, I subconsciously ask, "Which King of France will I quote today?"
Much to the consternation of my Henry IV side, Louis XV keeps winning out.
So the ghostly memories of squandered opportunities past float eerily and persistently towards me from a metaphorical sacred burial ground I've decided to irresponsibly develop my short-sighted house of cards over.
Speaking of ghosts of the past, I must apologize to Ms. Morin, my 7th grade English teacher. Not only is the grammar of this post hopelessly contorted, bombastic and maligned, I've mixed so many metaphors that frankly my head is spinning like a great roulette wheel, to which I've somehow bet it all on green double zero.