I am invincible
I have wine on Tuesday afternoon and cry with vigor. I drink Vodka on Thursday afternoon and go to gym. I was unplayable on Friday night. I drank on Saturday night. I was tipsy last night. I am dazzling – I wing it at work while looking them in the eye. I speak with confidence: loudly and with passion. It’s my game. I take my medication, I outrun despair. I live my day, I feel distressed, I take a sleeping pill, I feel nothing. I get anxious, I take a pill, I feel removed. My body can’t sit still, I buy a couch, I buy a sound system, I buy a Pringle suit. I take over a meeting; I gouge out my figure and only notice when someone asks why it’s bleeding. Then I stop for milk, love my kids, send an email, sleep and dream up a different world. I chase this thing, I feed the beast. The music is getting louder in my car; the beat is getting faster, the words more meaningful, my driving more erratic. The exhale on my Craven A just that much more satisfying. I reach for combustion and containment – anything that feeds the god complex but promises to let me root in the touchable – I reach for Daniel, Chuma, Tony, Jesus, booze, an ear, coffee, affirmation, skinny jeans, work, compassion, meds, acceptance, a cigarette, sunglasses, cheesecake, DSTV, the departures lounge. Always reaching. Always about to find my footing. Stumble, crumble and change direction. If I keep opening doors, the possibilities are endless; if I play this beast, I am invincible.