For the sake of honest and full disclosure, I state that I am calm. Right now, in this moment, when I would like nothing more than to die, to simply stop existing, when the only being on this planet I can truly bring myself to believe would actually care for any extended period of time that I was gone is my dog, I am calm. I am the calmest that I have been in days, perhaps weeks, perhaps even months. I can't quite recall.
It will be over soon enough, of course. My mother will say something that gets under my skin. My mind will wade out into the shallows of all of the words and worries of rhyme and reason. My voice will eventually pierce the fog and I will remember what the words I'm singing actually mean, remember why it is that I have to sing them. Or perhaps I'll simply lose my shit at work tomorrow and be done.
But whatever happens, for now, I am calm. Calm and done with the real world for tonight.
It will be over soon enough, of course. My mother will say something that gets under my skin. My mind will wade out into the shallows of all of the words and worries of rhyme and reason. My voice will eventually pierce the fog and I will remember what the words I'm singing actually mean, remember why it is that I have to sing them. Or perhaps I'll simply lose my shit at work tomorrow and be done.
But whatever happens, for now, I am calm. Calm and done with the real world for tonight.