#one time in class i said i like making venn diagrams and honey i was not lying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

through-an-ass-darkly · 5 years

Text

Distractions

My manically depressed brain is rated ADHD.

So, look out world,

let me show you just what I see....

•“Clap for the Wolfman.” Spotify shuffles. Nick Drake next please?

•Twinkling Christmas lights draped sartorially around my fatally torqued neck. Tinsel and dust dancing a heavenly waltz on the floor while my legs deadly droop. Merry Christmas!

•Venn Diagram. One circle is you— little inadequately drawn-up you. Two circle is anyone else you envied ugly in high school— Ivy League-educated, well-rounded into the most perfect 360-degree circle, trilingual, math magician extraordinaire, the “American Novel” successor to F. Scott Fitzgerald, Thelonius Monk jazz pianist of the 21st century, adulting successfully, making dreams realities. Our circles don’t even cross.

•Ruminations... Remember that time you slipped on ice and slammed down onto the concrete? Let’s play that one over again. A classic.

•That nightmare is back. Disfigurement Clinic. What the hell, R.E.M.?

•Carpel tunnel from having those thumbs glued to your phone screen. But Wikipedia is just so thick with knowledge.

•Calico cat, mostly painted in orange. My sweet, precious, knee-hugging baby.

•Eating carrots at the cemetery and having lunch with Bukowski.

•Did Jackson Pollock drip-drop my thoughts?

•Clutching a plastic, orphan blue rosary and not knowing the beginnings or ends of any prayers.

•Memes. Dank ones. Dipshit ones. Dope ones. Depression to laughter. Just what I’m after.

•Contacts or glasses? Trapped between a rock and a hard place.

•Chocolate layer cake. The blood, sweat, and tears one from Matilda.

•Which pills today? Is this aspirin? No tags, just naked tablets. The only way to know is to swallow. Down the hatch. Didn’t kick in. Maybe I’ll take four.

•Cheer up. Fix that broken smile. Dry those teary eyes.

•“Have you ever seen a play called The Violets Are Blue— about people being strangled on a submarine?” Wallace Shawn, I’m in love with your quirky little New York playwright soul.

•Opera at 3:33 pm. A golden honey for the eardrums. Angels singing supernal.

•Don’t take this lower-middle class, upper-lower class life for granted, you spoiled girl. Some people don’t have arms or legs or the money to afford three hots in a day. Victims of the system. 1% control this world. Fuck them. How big does your yacht have to be?

•I’m a world of pop culture. I steal as I please. A line from this, a verse from that. Nothing special.

•In a bottomless sea of suicidal thoughts, I am sometimes buoyed by gorgeous glimpses of the perfect boy. A dystopian gladiator, turned utopian savior. A Michelangelo cherub. A green-eyed, dimpled Sagittarius with dreams of Australia.

•”I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas.” J. Alfred Prufrock had a better love story than me.

•That dream is back. Whoops, your dreams went extinct when you forgot how to sleep. Sorry to bring up a sensitive subject...

•Chug a slug of apple cider vinegar. Then, maybe eat some grapes? No, too much natural sugar. Dieting is hard. A salad. Always a salad. Omit the hard-boiled egg though.

•What does beer taste like? I wonder. “Fly guts,” Mom said. I’ll know by the ass-end of this train wreck of a week?

•Time is humanity’s disease. Thanks, Wim Wenders.

There you have it, a chunk of my head.

And in spite of the violent pace of my brainwaves,

I don’t wish I was dead.

Worry not, I’ll keep hoping and waiting,

White-knuckling the days and when night comes, creating.

I’m not giving up, mental distractions will help me grow free.

Sierra, Oscar, Sierra is cancelled.

I don’t need you to come save me.

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