I feel nauseous staying at home for too long, continuously finding myself sitting in the backseat of the car, listening to my sister and her boyfriend bickering away up front. I can see my future so clearly in those moments: if I continue the path I'm on, five years from now my delusional fantasies and frail insecurities will have caused me to screw up my life so horribly that I won't have a single friend left; that I'll have finally gotten busted and fired at work for constantly crying at my desk without any discernible spark or reason; that I'll be forced to move in with the two of them after they buy a house and get married; that I'll be moonlighting as a bagger at an all-night grocery store for health insurance and babysitting her spawns by day so I can live there rent free; that in feeling so completely defeated by life I'll finally succumb to their pressure and agree to seek psychological help, which will lead me to be so highly medicated that I won't be able to hold a single intelligent thought for more than five seconds. And only then, in that pitiful state of overexposure, will I find the external release I had once so craved, now backfired at me.
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It's likely that once Circumstance has finally contrived to push me out on my own, and the consequences of being spoiled and coddled make themselves overwhelmingly known, I, too, will find myself essentially alone.
But not quite.
We will be mad, together.
The consequences of Delay are both devastating and daunting, especially when they are only considered in the lowest of moments. After a few days of sullen reflection, today I have come to appreciate the resilience of Spirit (i.e. always being aware of the consequences in grander terms, but resolving them in the day-to-day).
Of course this rediscovered uplift energy is historically ephemeral. So if Madness is inevitable, I'd at least like to have raged enough in life to have decided its species. *shooting for old woman that smells like cat urine riding up and down the El line all day, talking to herself*
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