About forty-eight hours ago, my first manic episode … or something damn close … since I was about 19 or so came to an end. Events transpired which brought that state of mind to a rather prompt end. The events were essentially inevitable, but I never imagined myself acting in a state of imposed foolishness would be the primary actor.
It just looked like an era, like so many, which would fade away. At least, insofar as my personal narrative. The essence is that I have become a source of pain and confusion which needs to go away.
No, not like that. I wouldn’t be so public about that.
It’s bad enough I live like this, that elements of my upbringing, curious passions rage community sensuality for which no analog has yet been packaged, persist in an era of relative comfort … I cannot and shall not spread it around. My mind does not go silent, however I have come to a point I anticipated but
I don’t really know what to do, save to do whatever is possible to limit the spread of the confusion, the mess. The first step is to persue the one self-evident practice which somehow I have prepared. I don’t yet know how deliberate it was as I have no perspective at all. Once I was quite literally grabbed by the throat, but only because nothing else was getting my attention. I don’t know what all was saved by that curiously gracious action.
My mother was a little younger than I am now when her sisters recall a drastic change. Perhaps I have achieved that time. Awareness, or something like it, is no relief. I’m sorry for it all, and shall endeavor to avoid those sins again. I am not dieing. I am not moving away.
But I shall stop thrashing about, so many of these rants were cries for help in my native language. A language for which I remember only the syntax.
Good night, dear ones. I shall tend to my own affairs for a time.