And I am on the corner with a sentimental eye
I am on the corner singin’ sentimental lies
-Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros: Come In Please
Everyone, as the saying goes, has a good side and a bad side. The trick, of course, is to mindfully acknowledge the sides and to not let them gain one side or the other.
Or was that a different thing?
With the recent events (the Boston bombing and the West explosions) I cannot help feel a certain blackness enter me. I dark urge to laugh maniacally and to cheer the ongoing chaos, regardless of the lives lost due to everyone having someone to love, to hold on to.
And this worries me.
I cannot say it scares me. I know this does not scare me. Worry me, yes, because, as I have noticed, once you stop worrying, you cross the line into madness. And I do not want that.
This line has been with me since Dad passed away. I’ve mentioned it to various friends, and they have shored me up the best they could. And it’s working. I see that line in my mind and instead of wanting just to give everything up and to give in, I put on, say, Wilco’s A Ghost Is Born and knit.
But the urge still there. That urge to grab something – a gun, a grenade, a container of poison – and to cause chaos with it is within me. Not strong, thank the gods above and below, but still there.
The thing holding me back is my heart, I would say. My compassion. My knowledge in the fact that everyone has someone else to fall back on. If I didn’t know this, or did not come to grips with this, I would have succumbed ages ago.
Of course, writing has been very cathartic for me. The urge to destroy someone real is sublimated into the urge to destroy a fictional character instead. Or to use the urge to create something interesting to read. I do want a typewriter, though. I miss the clank of the keys. But that comes later.