Everything Is Wrong

You know how sometimes, when you buy a CD, after you fumble your way tearing off the plastic wrapping with that crinkly sound really annoying you, you rip off that sticky adhesive off the top, and you plop that CD in the player? And the LCD tells you that the CD is over 50 minutes long, and you're glad that you didn't get gipped of your fifteen dollars and some change? So you listen through the album and suddenly the last track comes up faster than expected? Or you're half paying attention while doing your work, and you're not paying attention to the time and you think the CD is over? Then after seven minutes of silence, you hear another track? And you realize that the album has a hidden track, and it's complete and utter crap. Think the hidden track on Nirvana's "Nevermind" and not the hidden track on "Lost in Translation." That album you thought was over 50 minutes is actually under 40.

Take what you will from that lengthy rhetorical question.

I had trouble sleeping last night. I had an overwhelming sensation that everything was wrong. I knew it in my heart and I knew it in my head. Somehow, life had derailed off the tracks, and I'm still in shock.

As I said before, I left the Contract Gig for reasons that had nothing to do with Setup Chick. I had been waking up with the Dread for the last few months. I'd been dreaming of travel with nowhere to go, or being back in school. Once you start feeling the Dread, you have to leave if you have the option. It's just unfortunate that me leaving also coincided with Setup Chick going back.

I know writing is a solitary profession, and I know I'm good at it (well, at both--writing and being solitary). For the first time today, the anxiety I'd been feeling is slowly starting to disappear just by writing.

In the long run, I need to write. In the long run, I know that staying any longer at the Contract Gig would've been bad for my health. But right now, it's all bittersweet. I was supposed to be decompressing this week, and instead I'm thinking about her. I was supposed to be writing this novel during the day and have her come home to me each night, but instead I'm back by my lonesome. I was supposed to say my final goodbye on Tuesday, but the office still calls and she tells me how hard it is not to see me, that she knows if she sees me again what will happen.

Yeah, I know the train has derailed. I know eventually, either I have to get it back on the tracks or find a new train. Sitting dazed isn't going to help me at all. But right now, everything is wrong.