I'd forgotten the feeling of comfortably numb, that quiet buzz as the world goes slightly dark and I slide down the wall with my hair trailing against the expensive paintjob.
It took four minutes from the doorway to the screaming match only this time I was back against the wall out of the way forehead to the gyproc and I nary heard a word.
I'd forgotten comfortably numb.
I have an urge to go hunting for it, this quiet little peeping inside my ribcage saying it would all be so much easier it would all be so quiet...
I've lost my train of though again.
I am so easily derailed. My resting pulse is that of my pulse after that marathon they made us run in sixth grade.
I only paid a dollar for this particular pill.
In Montreal we wandered St-Denis in and out of shops I've passed a thousand times yet never breathed through.
We purchased wind chimes and a gnomes versus goblins chess board like I'd always dreamed when I swallowed their displays at Valet D'Coeur those many years ago. Once upon a time they were untouchable and last night they were simply piled on the coffee table until we had time for them after unpacking and errands and work revisions.
I am sitting at my desk attempting to put two and four together and I get lost after two and then ten minutes later remember the answer but not the question.
Is this what it's like to be stupid or is this yet another exploration of an illicit state of mind?
Tomorrow is the renal scan. Wednesday the ultrasound. On Wednesday I will tell them that my heart is pounding too fast to lie still, that it is thundering in my ears and drowning out the quiet slow pitter of Dave's e'en as I press my ear to his chest.
Next week I have to be okay all this has to be over I'm going to visit the data centre bunkers way the hell out of the way and they're looking for salvation or at least approval and I need my wits back right now.
I hate being stupid more than I hate being fat or infirm or weak or tired or behind. My brain's always been my last stand, my strongest weapon, my greatest boon and the pointiest trick up my sleeve and
while this weekend it was nice to teach it to take a vacation, despite not having been able to catch Jes or Steven (and not having the strength to leave a message for either) -- but today it is killing me.
I can't think or work or plan or organize and the slew of meetings begin at 2.
I still have no idea what I said to the CEO last week. I can't remember what I dreamed of last night. I remember having a fun trip to Mtl for the first time in a while because I was too stoned to stress about seeing anyone and instead ended up just discovering the city the way I did exactly ten years ago. The area surrounding Rio and X20 have chaged... But... So have I, and we're still just as much a part of each other.
From what I can remember. I think.
*sigh*
*stupid sigh*
One thing I do know -- is that if this is the choice, either I learn to live slower and live longer, or in order to live to the very fullest like I was previously ---
I'd prefer to cut my life short. No matter what state I'm in, that one's easy.
Better to burn out than to fade away.
Live hard. Die trying.
On and forth.
Crap.
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