Life is one long exaggeration

Does anybody have perfect, or near enough? 

I keep telling myself near enough is good enough but after the fact, all I want is perfect. I say next time, next time it will be right but I know full well there probably won't be a next time. I don't really want a next time, to be perfectly honest all I want is this time. Don't we all? Now is the theme of the hour, Me generation and all that. It's a fun theme to play with though: Perfection. Only sugar and dead celebrities achieve it.

What will you say to me, next time I wander blindly down this path? Will you hold up the danger signs, warn me, turn back now? Will your terms be strident enough, your fever pitched just so to break through? I don't think so. I am so much more than that, so I would dearly like to believe. Isn't perfection just power in another guise? The model, the absent stranger with that wistful stare that doesn't budge an inch, the man in the suit with all the glory, these are all members of the club. You want to join it, the perfect circle but it's always out there, on the edge of nowhere. You tell yourself to keep on pushing because you /know/ it's there.

I swing between poles. I don't want to tie up all the loose ends but then again wouldn't it be nice, just once?

That's what I always say, just this once and then it's okay somehow. 


My shrink is a mermaid, in my dreams at least. I wonder what that means?

Maybe it means I'm crazy. It definitely means I should stop dreaming but that's the one thing nobody can stop. Not even the shrinks. Nobody can stop your unconscious, doing its thing. I feel violated by my own mind. There's a good definition of neurosis. 

I'm not neurotic because I lie to you, I'm not looney because I dream of another life, I'm not nuts because I fear the world. All those things are normal, normal as apple pie and Christmas presents. I'm not crazy for believing in my ultimate ability to control everything at the same time as knowing how daunting the vast majority of things can be.

 I'm crazy because I come this way. I'm crazy because I take what's there and disintegrate it, obsess over the minutiae of life and transmute lead into gold. Then I take that fool's gold and worship it and resent it to hell. Then I forget that it was never real in the first place. 

The truth is a lie but under my skin I know there's something in the way you look at me, sometimes, that means there's more to this life than surfaces and tingling sensations, than afternoon naps and endless nights. I'm just a gum chewing freak but luckily for me I've every right to be.