hyperprior

possession

I can’t think straight, never could. Can’t pay attention to any one thing for more than a few minutes, no matter how important it is. To give you a clue, here is a list of things I did while writing this:

I hate that I wrote out that list. In the moment it felt like a natural literary vehicle, but now I just find it a little too on-the-nose, but I’ll keep it in, it has some utility.

I have so many fucking awesome ideas, all in 15 minute bouts. Grand plans, things I could do for fun and/or profit. Books I’ll write, people I’ll become. They are love affairs with some version of myself that if not better than me, at least isn’t me, while still being enough me that I can pretend it is me. What a profound sentence, huh?

I’ve always been like this. That is not an excuse. Maybe I just have ADHD. That’s not an excuse.

Maybe I am possessed by a demon. I mean this in the perfectly literal sense. I am an Orthodox Christian and I believe that pure, old-fashioned demons are real and they really do want to posess us.

That’s not an excuse.

So what if I have always been like this? I was an atheist for 37 years of my life and then one day I believed in demons. Why couldn’t I belive in myself? So what if I have ADHD? My hands are not tied together.

So is it demons? I mean, in a sense, sure why not? I’m sure they’d be happy to corrupt me. I’m not the biggest fish, mind you, but a soul is a soul is a soul.

But that gives them too much credit and gives me too much of a pass.

What are we even talking about exactly here? When I say I can’t think straight? I don’t even know why I started this “piece” (of whatever this is a “piece” of) with that thought. I think I started by just putting ideas down to edit later and it wasn’t until this sentence (the one you are reading now) that I realized I was just going to dump things down in one big go and not edit anything (for the most part). It’s not about thinking straight, it’s about…

I dunno. I really don’t have a clue. I’m digging for words here, I promise, and I’m getting things like fear, despair, despondency, anxiety, all kinds of bad stuff, but none of them is quite there. The real problem is the I-dunno-ness of it. The fact that I can’t even articulate how I feel, not really, not in any way that is going to win me a literary award. The dialogue in my head is basically

Me: Wow, I hate everything. Everything sucks. I suck. Me: Oh, these are the bad thoughts though. Me: Yes, but I am having them, so they are important, no? Me: But, you know your thoughts are not “you” this is what the Buddhists say and all that. You know that, right? Tell me what are you really feeling, like what is at the core of all of this. Me: Right. Well, I hate my job and I feel trapped in it. Me: Ok, we’re getting a little more specific. What about that has you so distraught. Me: Well, I hate my job. My job sucks. Mostly I suck at my job. Me: Okay, and why do you think your job sucks and you suck at it? Me: Well, I hate everything (and my job is part of everything). And everything sucks (and my job is part of everything). And I suck at everything and well…

Talking to myself is talking to a wall. Then again, the other guy in my head is seen so many therapists all it can do is talk in therapy-speak, so you can’t blame me.

But, ok, so what? You’re not good with emotions, why does it matter? Well, because I have to change. And not because people have told me I have to change (they have) but because I actually really do have to change. I am 37 years old, but I might as well be 90. I am severely out of shape, I need to lose like 100 pounds, I breathe like Tony Soprano, I can’t think clearly because I have rotted my brain with AI and youtube and booze and junk food.

I have to change because I told myself I would change. I told myself I would change 100 times. 100 times today. 100 times every day. I skip the gym because my back hurts from going to the gym twice this week already and sure my back hurts but my back hurts because I’m a fat fuck. Not the gym’s problem. But I tell myself I’ll change, I’ll hit the gym tomorrow. I tell myself I won’t drink a bunch of beer and order pizza. I tell myself this after already having had a beer, and I know I’ll tell myself that I’ll change after my third beer or so too. For fuck’s sake, I am drinking a beer as I am writing this sentence.

Editor’s Note: While I know “I don’t have a drinking problem” is what people with drinking problems say, I don’t have a drinking problem. I probably should still do it much less.

But these are like the big things. Everyone avoids the gym and broccoli, so what? Those aren’t heartbreakers.

But then there is my phone that has a text from a friend I haven’t talked to in years who texts me and for some reason I avoid sending something back. Just a “hey man how’s it going, I’m good hope you are too” brings a wash of crippling anxiety. But so does having to remember that I am afraid to text back. It’s one thing to be too lazy to hit the gym, but I can’t bang out a text?

Or when my wife talks to me about something and it immediately falls out of my head, the very act of nodding along to what she’s saying flicking the thought out lick a booger from my memory, and I am sitting there in fear hoping she won’t bring it up, and am lucky often enough because why would she think to quiz me on the sentence she just finished. But then I get burned when I break the promise I made. And as I tell myself “I will change” I’m missing the the next thing she’s telling me.

I’m going to lose everything. I’m going to die young. I’m going to alienate everyone in my life who I haven’t already. I’m going to change. No I’m not. I have to change. I can’t.

I don’t know what the purpose of this little journal entry(?) is. I just wanted to get thoughts down I guess. Journaling is one of those things on the list of things “I know I should do to become a better person but will never do” and I dunno, in the moment seemed better than nothing. I wanna say here that I am going to journal every day, make this a habit.

I won’t. But maybe I could. I don’t know if writing my thoughts down will do anything to make me better. Is it gonna get me in shape? Is it gonna save my marriage? Is it going to make me the dad I should be?

I hate writing this, and I would probably hate reading it more. Maybe I will make it public just because the thought of doing that makes me want to walk into the ocean. Maybe I need to be afraid and still just act.

Maybe I will write more stuff. Maybe this will be the first of many blog posts where I talk about stuff I want to actually do and the last post where I only talk about stuff I want to do. If you see more posts, then we beat the demons. I just hope we got better at writing along the way. If you see nothing else here, then, maybe the demons won, but I got one shot off before I went.