And Madness Sets In

If life is for the living then am I wasting a life? Or am I living a wasted life, thereby making it not a waste at all? Am I failing to live or living to...wait for it...better myself.

In a sense I open myself up. There is a left winged Hare Krishna dancing upside down beneath an empty sky hole. "Higher! Higher!" he screams. From nowhere we can observe nothing envelop him. When it all closes up again, everything is there. The bull and the spur. The hatchet and the carbon. Seraphim and Ruth. An egg the size and shape of an egg. Only yellow. Like an egg. A face with no features but a thousand expressions and two voices. Two voices in perfect harmony.
Before us now is blue, swirling, everything. Behind me and in the future is a failed attempt at a life. There are points of no return and also a few points of only return. There are a few lines, but mostly they're points. The candied necklace of a beautiful, beautiful thing. What do you call them?
In the music it's like a series of intersecting rings. Sounds dance up and down on the stripped grass. Sadly. Joyously. There is all the difference in the world.
There is an empty plastic cup singing to me, giving me strength. It gives me the strength to fall. To fall down upon my knees; the perfect position. To beg. Mendigar. To pray. Suplicar. To cower and to be sick. And thank you, plastic cup, my secular saint. With your help I can do all this. I can do all things but quit. And when only that is left, what else do I have to do?
Evolsilla. It is that by which I live. I pray it upon my rosary and speak it to the glass. Evolsilla. In all things I cannot deny it. It is only when this no longer means anything to me that it will all be over.
And now I see I've spilled ink all over my hand. How does that even happen? How does that even happen in this day and age?

There are people. They're surrounding me. People all around and they're making so much noise. I can't possibly concentrate here. I can't possibly focus. My mind twists and turns, jumping from one world to another. I am here, I am not, and I am back again. The white noise of these scores of strangers is deafening. All the voices, all the laughter, blend together into one horrible din. The noises swell and crash like waves against rocks, receding back before falling upon me doubly strong. In crowds I know I lose all sense. I become unhinged and the paranoia takes over. My eyes lose focus but they are ever vigilant, always moving. I follow every shift, every shudder with keen attention. Hyper-vigilant and yet completely terrified. Everyone around me is an enemy, an opponent of some kind. I don't know them and yet I know they hate me. They all want to embarass me, to hurt me. I feel their eyes on me. Staring. Judging. Indistinctly, I can hear them, they are speaking about me, I know it. Laughing at me. I miss Her. I want the voices to go away, the stares to cease, all the judging to stop. She makes it stop. She makes it quiet, brings me peace. And when I'm alone...Well, then I'm just alone. What's truly interesting though is how little she actually needed me. She simply needed someone, anyone. As soon as I was gone she replace me with the first person she could find. Oh my love, your biggest problem was you always needed someone. You can never be alone, you need constant affirmation of your worth through romantic relationships with other people. Who did I just describe there? As a matter of fact, you have absolutely terrible taste in men. I am just one example of this. You're so willing to be with someone that you don't care if they understand or appreciate you. You only need them to like you and, considering how infinitely likable you are, there isn't much of a shortage of those men. Your problem is you need someone, anyone. My problem is I need you. I don't deny that I have my baggage. I don't denty that I have a laundry list of stupid little failings and big ugly problems. By no means am I an easy person to get along with, let alone to live with. I just couldn't be that casual college boyfriend you wanted. Fuck, I can't do anything casually. I take every personal relationship as seriously as any other. If I consider you a friend then we have a very special bond and there is almost nothing I would not do for you, my friend. This is why there are so few that I consider friends. This is why I have 18 contacts in my phone. And then again, if I love you...well, then my love is simply overflowing.

A man walks in, he is wearing an ugly sweater and a stupid fleece vest. I look up and catch his eye. I mouth the words "fuck you" to him.
He looks more shocked than angry, "What did you just say to me?" He asks. He's not quite shouting but it's pretty close.
For my part, I look up, startled "I didn't say anything," I answer honestly.
"You mouthed something at me."
Now I'm the one who is shocked. "What? No, I didn't."
"Yes, I'm sure you did. I saw you. You mouthed 'fuck you' to me!" Ok, now he's shouting.
"What are you talking about, man? I don't even know you!"