*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIMNVHfYudE (Not the video, just the song, in this version.)
Saturday was an unexpected road trip to Bled. I wasn’t planning on it, but a friend asked me to come, initially as a Rottweiler in case stuff got awkward with her ex, though it didn’t. It was a lovely day. Detached. I kind of needed it, with all the reality coming at me from all directions.
I still think something weird is going to happen. Weird as if heavy. So many ghosts from the past coming out of their graves… I cannot but imagine the crazy girl that’s been calling me insistently for the past few days, speaking in complete nonsense, isn’t trying to communicate something. It’s the better of two options; the other being her gibberish is just an empty and sad affair of someone ill.
I have to say the things she says are almost poetry. “I am at my job now - combing my hair – there cannot be a single knot left, otherwise we all know: the whole book will fall apart.”
Frankly I am not willing to get too close. Strange, I know, because normally deviations turn me on. But there’s been too much of that lately. In fact, lately, every time I think I’m the nutter, all I have to do is stand next to a real one and then the difference is brutally apparent. And they are starting to wear on me. The last person I spoke about mental illness ended up killing himself. Although he is probably a lot more free now, I still miss him. She hasn’t been entirely sane, ever, but there were times when she was just very sexy and odd, like me (minus the sexy bit), and now I’m guessing either fast-forward bipolar or hardcore paranoid schizophrenia… Either way, a total waste of my time. There is no way I can help her. Even if I spoke to her mother or her sister, all they would tell me is that she’s on and off her meds. When I talk to her on the phone, she is either speaking in complete chops of sentences, or telling me about conspiracies or asking me to help her i.d. a photo of a soul (man dead five years now) that’s going to get into a terrible accident. Even if. What can I without making things worse?
Most of what I can do is try to put the pieces of her conversation into a whole and determine that she’s not hungry, cold or homeless, and then imagine she has a message for me, just to keep from crying. The weirdest of all things is that we have only been in the same room maybe four times in my whole life in half those times I got calls that one of my family members is in the hospital. So I can’t help having that feeling and can’t really do anything about it, except waiting for it to pass. I am so painfully realistic and normal (not to mention immune to compassion), not even the slightest of paranoid cosmic conspiracy theories gets though my skin anymore.
0 comments:
Post a Comment