Break it Down

Thoughts on Life and other some such Absurdities

                            Break it Down

Unlike the  iconic forewarning Mick gave us on number 19, your first nervous breakdown feels something like a slow erosion of faith in humanity. And whether you were given all the toys you wanted, or never any at all, you still cried at night. Sanity , it seems, is no respecter of caste.

What you knew, what you thought you knew, all sort of just dissolves into an anxiety soaked riptide.  You wonder, is this the day you’ll go so far offshore, there’s no coming back?

Death , divorce, disappointment,  all drifting  under depression in the DSM .Makes it  easy to diagnose and drug. What happened to just calling it like it is, the good old fashioned Nervous Breakdown? That moment when you just lose your s**t. You lose it because people suck and life sucks and you suck, and waking up day after day after day after miserable day, sucks!

Google why people suck and choose from news, images, videos ,quotes, gifs.  37 million times infinity portals to choose from is enough in itself to cause a nervous kind of breakdown.  When you know, you know, that you know, that you know, It becomes nothing more than Life, it’s that f*****g simple. Life sucks, and then you die.

Burning bushes and parting seas. Mountaintop mystics, Aha moments. Do not do justice the way Monty Pythons Bright side of Life sums it up. “ Life’s a laugh and death's a joke, it’s true, you’ll see it’s all a show. Keep em laughing as you go, just remember, that the last laugh, it’s on you”

Life  parodies orbit gum commercials. Imagine it’s all a stage, and when it’s seems absurd, give it a wink”

Emotion. Optimization, obstacle, or both? Another one of Life’s undecipherable dichotomies? The crossfire between nerve and emotion, with even the slightest degree of unbalance, cannot escape the inevitable equation resulting in breakdown. And why the f**k not ? Everyone has seen some s**t, Been tossed some wicked curveballs.The raw reality of life on life’s terms makes or breaks us, but there is no lukewarm. It is survival of the fittest and those that can’t kill, will surely be killed.

The eyes really could be windows to the soul?  If we stopped taking selfies long enough to really see into another, would it really be all that difficult to measure the barometer of individual breakdown ?  Just look long enough to see past your own reflection.

The Predators. The ones missing the limbic system.  the ones that have that glacial unyielding, methodic stare.  Eyes that never leave your movement, not even for a second. Eyes that lie in wait.  Eyes that cause a shiver to run up and down the spine, the hair to stand on end. Dogs bite them.

The Pollyana.  The set out sea on the good ship lollipop gaze They seem to not be aware that  breakdown exists? Or that life outside the bubble exists. Or that they even exist?.  As if the world were just one big balloon ride to heaven, until that deflates and they’re dead on the ground , left behind.

The Proverbial Misfit the red rimmed , tear stained  eyes glossy from lacrima attempting in vain to flush out life's irritation. These eyes are pained , seeking. Swirling in the cesspool of no solution. Round and round and round they go.

 No Vacancy  The Out to Lunch Eyes.  Open  windows to the long ago checked out soul. The zombie apocolypse  eyes that been around since the beginning of time.  Unnoticed until they eat some flesh.

Broke. And finally the breakdown eyes. Eyes wide in horror and disbelief. Eyes reflecting  the stark madness  they see. Eyes that scream silently, this is it, this s**t is it?

It’s hard to wrap any semblance of a functioning brain around the ideology that a sovereign God would create such blatant disproportion in all things living.  Think of the cacti, meant only for survival  and  forced into slum lordship or the tiny buttercup swaying in the breeze about to be ripped from it’s roots and held under a chin in a delusional discerning of butter? Life is that absurd and it’s our job to navigate this minefield without blowing up. It’s not something you can just two step your way blindly through,  It’s a delicate dance through dark and light, with explosives.

There’s no subtle warning signs for the shift in Breakdown. One day you pop out of  bed like a maple frosted tart, and the next, you cannot fathom stretching one foot all the way to the floor.

And everything is really fine under the covers  anyway. Far away from the world at large. There’s no hate or hypocrisy, There’s no hunger, the overflowing molehill of popsicle wrappers and empty cigarette boxes assure you one can  absolutely survive on sugar and nicotine.  Just as functioning  as the fruitloop on figs and flaxseed, Nope,  anything over that ledge is sure to be a wild ride down the rabbit hole and so you roll over, rooting yourself in paralysis. Staring at the drink me label.

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