stillfugue

The building was not so overwhelming, maybe 25 stories, but it was all gold glass, and as I sat on the rock wall in the shade of the monstrous black glass building, perhaps 65 stories, the reflected sunlight from the bronzish goldish windows on the statuary guard to the north started to warm my brain. It’s unusual not being able to look North because of the bright. All of the action was North, but I bowed my head and thought about big decisions, the decisions you make when you are sure they will change your life. When my brain warms, I want to make big decisions.

During the last several years, the only big decisions I made were about how to kill myself. However, I am alive, so more precisely, the decisions were about whether or not I wanted to suffer and try to pray my way through or if I simply wanted it all to end. In the older days, a third option was to get smashed, which usually nullified the first two options within an hour or so, but I’ve exceeded my usage of that option, and death is much preferable to slow, miserable, alcoholic death.

Today, I didn’t feel like making decisions, and that brought about a pleasing feeling as I watched some very beautiful people traverse the sidewalks and I wondered if I’d consumed too much starch for lunch.

It tickles me to think about how praying my way through has occurred so many times that I almost believe that any bad thing will always pass. Perhaps not odd to you, but when I am in severe despair, I am always convinced that it will never end unless I end my life, but now, there is a different part of me which tells the other that he’s lying, that it will pass. It intrigues me that everything passes, and that knowledge seems to persuade me that I should never be joyful because the bombastic fear that the joy will end overshadows the joy itself, just like the gold windows shag my northern view of all of the action and all of the other beautiful people.