Thursday, January 29, 2009
I Stand Corrected
I'm sorry. I may have come across a little positive in my latest blogs; conveying a sense that things were going to be okay after all and I might finally be achieving something that had always eluded me: happiness.
I was wrong. I spoke too early. I'm embarrassed now. There is no happiness for me.
This contemptible organ, the brain, what is its purpose but to kill me? How I wish it were a tooth in my mouth that might be extracted.
My heart is heavy and nothing can lift it. It is a stone thrown into its own lake of blood. . .sinking fast. . .
I cannot swallow, the lump is too large.
I cannot breath for apathy prevents me from inhaling.
It seems as if I can only exhale. An infinite release of air that starts once, but ends never.
This body has seen enough. . .
Once I told a psychiatrist who wanted to put me on bipolar medication:
"Look, man. I just want an anti-depressant. I want to keep the mania. Take out the bottom part and keep the top. Cut the string, that's all. Let the balloon float."
"Let the balloon float. . ."
"L et t h e ba ll oo n f l o a t
l e t t he ba l l o o n f l o a t
l e t t h e b a
l l o o
t . . .
Posted by Will Franken at 3:07 PM