The Web

I don’t recall it having started this way. You know, me: being pummeled through the universe with a milkshake in one hand, pen and paper in the other and all the while, attempting to maintain my sanity. I believe the purpose was to experience growth as it would be similar to the flowery expressions you find on bus stop posters or bill boards lining the highway of life. This though; this is for the birds.


In one aspect, I feel a pressure on the seams of my garments – pressure from elatedness, being happy and having faith that everything’s working out as it should. On the other side of those same garments, I feel the prickly sense of: anger, hurt, futility and an arm-load of that wrinkly face you get when you’re biting your tongue and cursing under your breath. That part usually comes out in a sarcastic sense of wit and charm.

The time span of this chaotic sensibility began years ago and somewhere in there I recall having the thought that the huff and puff of getting things done always seemed to land squarely in my lap. I didn’t mind so much at an earlier age because I could handle it, I welcomed it. I wanted to have the opportunity to prove I could do most anything. Now though, now I feel as though I’ve documented the pleadings of a sycophant and have to somehow remain on course while making efforts to get off the bus! I went to the doctor at one point – finally accepting that I was upset and depressed... that I’d cornered the market on not being able to sustain my innate sense of happy-go-lucky and somewhere deep inside, I was dying a slow, horrible, stinking, rotting death. I remember that day too: the day I walked in to the doctor’s office and hung my head to save the receptionist from seeing the dark circles under my eyes, or that she might assume (correctly) that I’d been crying for a good, long month’s worth of time. Either way, the doctor appeared – listened to my story, (P.S.: I initiated my consult with a “I think I’m depressed”) she made some medical hieroglyphs on my chart and then suggested that “I think you’re depressed…have you tried a calming bath? Do you get enough sleep? Maybe you’re not eating properly, etc.”. It was more debilitating if anything. At one point in time, the doctor did recommend that I get on some heavy medication, but I could just imagine that one coming to surface in the realms of the court. Lovely.

I did contemplate eating the “calming bath salts” at one point just to overdo it on sodium, but I believe I ran out of energy there again. Then there was the idea that sprung to life – I had decided that just to get someone to listen, I would pack my trail-blazing back pack and camp out on the steps of the county legislature building until someone had me removed, or pulled up a cot. Either way, I figured, they’d have to listen. They didn’t.

I conjured that I would begin painting billboards to place in my own yard – things that would read “Abusive Man Gets Away with Not Paying Child Support for Years”, and “How to Escape Accountability: Live Here!”, a “Can’t Keep Your Hands Off Your Kid? Get on the ‘Fathers’ Rights Train!”, or “Do-it-Yourself Widowing Company. Inquire Within”…but decided against my better judgment on that one too. Really, the whole point was (and is) to get someone to listen….someone, anyone, somewhere please just listen!

‘Round about that time, I landed on one of my best analogies for the tumultuous state of affairs that is being married to a madman and the subsequent child-rearing and divorce that follows: The Web. The Web, is the idea that I'm walking through this fiasco and like would be when you’ve stepped into a spider-web hanging almost iridescently in the trees…where it spans across your face and you feel the snagging tentacles of it between your eyelashes and around your mouth…that you pull at it. You make grand gestures of swinging hands and fingers to try and remove it from your head, but you miss. You keep waving arms and hands, wanting that eerie feeling to be removed from your life, from your person. You can feel it, you’re living it, and it’s there right in front of you…but to everyone else - everyone that sits on the side lines or can view you from afar…or can hear you, see you, know you – all they see is you waving like a lunatic. And because the mass populous really doesn’t enjoy spending much time investing in prosperous cognitive energy (i.e. to think) … you are nuts.

With that in mind, I'm investing in that awesome spray that they use in the movies. The stuff that hangs on the invisible rays of an infrared sensor so you can see where the lines are as you’re pulling off a jewel heist. That’s what I need…spray it on my face and *BAMMO*!

Proof.

That what I’ve been saying, doing and relaying all along: THE TRUTH!