Obsession – Not by Calvin Klein

To obsess, that is my life.

Nothing in my life ever happens without lots of thought invested. Thought before, like “what if?” and thought after, like “what the fuck?” or “why?”

This state of mind is paralyzing to say the very least. And it has molded my life. Oh yes, it has.

Contrary to popular opinion by the medical community, I must read myself to sleep because if I turn the light off before I reach the point where I can no longer keep my eyes open another moment, I will lay and stew in all the bad mistakes I’ve made, reliving each one of them in vivid Technicolor. Or if something is pending, even something little and of no account, I’ll ponder what the thousand potential outcomes are.  And if somehow, for whatever reason, even though I am dropping the book –actually now it would be my Kindle–onto my face from exhaustion, if I turn that light off a second too soon, then my mind starts spinning out horrific situations in which I am the starring character.

But this obsessive behavior doesn’t just disturb my sleep patterns, it affects my every move. Should I have let the old lady go ahead of me? Should I just ignore the asshole drivers on the road? Should I change jobs? Does my manager want me to change jobs? Did I do the right thing? What could I have done better? Why did I act the way I did?

Should I have written this post? Do I want to expose myself to the world like this? Will others find me disturbing or pathetic? Or sad? Or boring? Will they think me a self-involved asshole/moron/waste-of-space?

This post was mentally spawned by Today’s Daily Post, Verbal Confirmation: To be, to have, to think, to move — which of these verbs is the one you feel most connected to? Or is there another verb that characterizes you better?


My Father’s Daughter

Today’s WordPress Daily Post Prompt is Opening LinesWhat’s the first line of the last song you listened to (on the radio, on your music player, or anywhere else)? Use it as the first sentence of your post.

I’m going to cheat a bit. The first few lines in this song by Carly Simon remind me of the protagonist in my Work in Progress, of Beryl, and the strained relationship she has with her father.

~ o ~

My father sits at night with no lights on. Not unlike the resentment smoldering within him, his cigarette glows in the dark. I know just the sight of me will stir that anger from its sleep. Yet, the living room is still; I walk by, no remark. 

One day I’ll face him, ask him why he reserves his anger for me. But not today. I’m not up to the battle, not up to facing the darkness in him because it calls to the darkness in me, making me want to hurt him the way he has hurt me. The way he hurt my mother when she was alive. I’m not sure how  my brother Jeryl is exempt, has always been exempt, but he is. My father dotes on him as if he where the prodigal son returned. In my father’s eyes, I am Cain, and Jeryl is Abel. Jeryl says it’s because he doesn’t fight back. He accepts it and buries it.

I can not be like Jeryl. My anger is alive, burning inside me. I guess that makes me my father’s daughter.