Only One Choice

Sitting, keeping the idiot box off, listening to a favorite playlist with the really nice headphones on, dealing with a bit of old, familiar pain, more of a bit of discomfort really but always with that threat of having it explode into agony, but it probably won’t and I’ll just be sitting uneasy for a day or two.

Great, just in time for that three-day weekend that I so desperately need.

Juggling, lots of unresolved, low-level fears and angers, disturbances, trust issues, uncertainties, trying to figure if there’ some gaslighting going on or if I’m simply going batshit crazy at last, thinking about how unfair it’s going to be if it’s hallucinations and losing my grip when it’s not the good hallucinations, the ones with the karmic out-of-body experiences and multi-dimensional, mind-blowing colors and sounds and sensations, but instead getting the grey, boring ones that are like that last fifteen minutes of stolen sleep before you really have to get out of bed but all your stupid, stupid brain can spit out are endless anxiety dreams where you can’t get some boring accounting journal to balance.

Physical discomfort, mentally off-balance a bit, all leading to a headache that I could really have done without, especially when I’ve already taken Extra Strength Excedrin and can’t take any more so I’m just going to have to suck it up and keep breathing.

The playlist spins. Garth Brooks. ‘Til Tuesday. Linkin Park. The Eagles.

“Life In The Fast Lane.”

Only one choice.

Fuck the headache, it will be there either way. Hit the volume and see if the really nice headphones can take it to eleven.

Then play it again. Just because.

Lower the volume as it fades. Move on. Still breathing.

Got a website article to write for tonight.

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