Losing

I’m slowly losing my mind, or gaining it. I can never tell which way it goes. One day I feel stable, grounded, sensible. The other, completely unhinged, disorganized, a threat to my being.

What is the best way to proceed? I think, all day long. I preoccupy, mostly. My thoughts buzz. Mostly about unproductive matters. It’s nice when I can tune them to work, hone them on matters of importance. But then its back to buzzing. I’ll pick up a book titled The Principles of Thermodynamics  by Hatsopoulos, and read for an hour, then The Mathematical Universe, and finally, I’ll break out some novel, such as The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.

I enrolled at community college with the aim of getting my associates in engineering, or maybe computer science, although creative writing sounds fun. But so do all the physics courses.

Its better if I give myself something to think on.

They buzz, all day. I preoccupy, like a crutch, deflecting the radiant energy into menial activities, just to burn it away. I could work out. That was the release for years. I’m finding balance, I tell myself. I’m trying to accomplish something other than with my body, but with my mind.

Well, what is it? My job?

My routine is worse for wear. I haven’t the slightest bit of structure to my week. Not like I need it. But I do. Sometimes I’m thrilled that I can just work as freely as I’d like. Schedule meetings whenever it suits me, work for as short or as long as I’d like.

But deep down, I don’t like it. I like the pressure. I like when people are barking at me, like a dog that needs to dig deeper. Or, I like doing the barkin. It keeps me sharp.

But the isolation isn’t too great. Working alone, with a lone mission, isn’t the most uplifting sense of work.

I should speak more highly, with a better attitude.

The reality is, I can’t cope with reality. I fantasize endlessly about escaping myself. There are dreams that flood my mind throughout the day. Be a writer. Go back to school. Get a Phd. Get an associates in engineering. Invent something. Make something. Move somewhere else. It’s just a non stop barrage of thoughts. Which is why suicide has always been such a friendly option. Just turn out the lights.

Of course, I could just sleep it off, which I often do. Sleep, forever. Then there are the drugs and alcohol, but I don’t like messing my mind up. I prefer to keep it sharp, even if it does naw me to the bone.

Tomorrow I should write some more, not when its 1:15am.