After the Storm, Calm
Woof, Way Back Machine is probably going to air my dirty laundry when it comes to the first few drafts of yesterday’s post. What eventually became a lovely short story about a viper and some vague remarks about my own emo-level torment (are emos still things? Or did they die out in the Scene Wars?) was initially quite dark. Makes sense since I was in a dark place.
I feel much better now. Instead of festering poison I just feel a bit of a void. I spent time with others I love. Opened up about what was hurting me. I hate opening up. If I were a can, I’d give you an uncomfortable glare while you pried open my lid with a can opener. No pull tab.
To quote me during my last physical, “Stay the Hell out of my can.”
But I feel calm now. I’ve lost a pillar, but the structure is holding. The structure needed renovation anyway. New pillars. Ones that weren’t going to inevitably collapse.
I am still sad. Makes sense. My Viper was a valuable friend. As I descended the mountain, they made the journey bearable. When given a choice between loneliness and misery with company, I usually choose loneliness. It’s more stable. Normal. It’s what I do best.
But I picked up the viper. I knew it would bite me eventually. No surprises when it did. What was surprising was how desperately I held onto it, even after the fangs struck. I wanted nothing more than to hold it close as it pumped poison into my soul.
It’s probably not healthy that I’ll gladly pick up the next viper I see. It’s not that I’ve learned nothing. I’ve learned plenty.
But at some point, I just need a little more venom in my life.
Not healthy, but neither are deep fried Twinkies. And I love deep fried Twinkies. The things that are worst for us are usually the most enjoyable. Delicious. Pleasurable. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Let’s do it again.