“I love you, Victor. I love you Victor. I love you, Victor?” I repeat in my head over and over. Words that I can’t usually get out without squealing roll meaninglessly out of my mouth. Victor stares wide eyed at me then continues to nuzzle my face. I turn away and stare blankly at the ceiling the textured strokes dance to the slow bizarre drone of Autolux. I can feel my emotions pouring out of me as I close my eyes and breathe in deep. I sink further and further into my bed as the melodic sound of the music and sense of surreal calm wash over me, carrying me off to a land of total apathy.
Coming back to reality after a “who-knows-how-long” amount of time, I slowly lift myself up and climb onto the roof. My head feels like a bag of sand and with limbs like noodles, I slide outside into the cool air. Light pours out from inside and I turn and grab some notebooks of off my desk. I thumb through the pages of a sketchbook from this past spring. I see Victor, my cat, in space, with faceless eyes and lips floating on a page… eyes that turn into trees and other colorful stain glass like creations…”man I was doing a lot more acid and DMT then I guess…” I look at my current book- a pair of sad lips and a shark that’s crying are all that adorn the pages.
I’ve been comically over-emotional recently, on the brink of bursting into tears for millions of reasons: because he didn’t call me to hang out like he said he would, or because I’m broke like all the time, or because I saw that goddamn Beasts of the Southern Wild trailer again, and especially because I’m tired of being so upset by everyone at the Skull. Dealing with the notion that despite all the wonderful things they do for me, most of the people there have done some real shitty things. That’s where the MXE comes in.
Being on a dissociative makes you completely immune to that frustrating instability of being a girl on birth control. Add working in a breeding ground for debauchery and it just becomes a time bomb. I like being able to transcend not only my physical body but also all those irrational emotions, that for some reason I occasionally seem to have absolutely no control over- to think about something that makes me sad, or to look at something I love and just not care. Sometimes I don’t want to feel anything at all.
I think about the Skull and why I’ve felt so negatively about it the past few weeks, why I seem to be completely creatively unmotivated. I’m angry that some of these people have done terrible things; have hurt, stolen from, and lied to people and I still have to serve them with a smile. I’m angry that they are so content to wallow in their self-pity instead of just doing something about it. I say these things aloud to myself in the most rational tone, then it dawns on me. I’m most angry that each day I come to work I’m taken back to being 6 years old again and learning the hard way about the harsh effects alcoholism has on a family, that I’m finally seeing the other side of things. I can imagine how their wives or sons or daughters feel when they come home too drunk to even stand at 3 o’clock in the morning.
This realization is followed swiftly by another: you can’t cry over spilled milk. You cant force yourself to relive your past childhood “tragedies” and expect anything good to come of it and you can’t control other peoples actions. In the words of Miss Cady Haron- dwelling on why someone sucks wont make them suck less, and obsessing about other peoples lives is doing nothing except giving you bad skin. C’est la vie! C’est la vie!
People are going to do what they are going to do, you cant force a lesson onto somebody. I’ve either got to learn to deal to accept that my past and present are laced with similar themes or not involve myself, because at the end of the day Jerry will still be in jail with a broken hand and Courtney will still be a tragic mess at the young age of 21. Focusing on all these negatives is making me loose sight of all the positives. The time Jerry brought me homemade lasagna on my birthday or that beautiful tiger eye’s stone Bob gave me. Live and let learn, right?
Everyone has their issues and while some more off-putting than others, who am I to be wasting so much time harboring all these ill-thoughts on things so out of my control? I should be spending more time focusing on their strong suits… My thoughts begin to circle around each other; the beginning of one thought becomes the end of another and vice versa. I close my eyes and breath a sigh of relief as I hear the record inside end. It seems miles away as I drift further and further into dissociative bliss.
Life At The Smiling Skull is back from a hiatus with a vengence. God damnit Ashleigh Dye, will you just be our best friend already?