Fervently Stolid

"Everyone makes one mistake / One more time for old time's sake / One more time before the feeling fades / One that's born of memories / One more bruise you gave to me / One more test just how much can I take? / You're not the one, but you're the only one / Who can make me feel like this"
- The One, Foo Fighters

The migraines are all I have got. Fucking mental goads. They slowly mindfuck me and the effects are well written all over my face. All the time. But as I've said, them migraines are all I've got. They don't give me inspiring or positive or encouraging bullshit. They give me the ugly truth. They are the living reminders that I am fucked up but by being fucked up, I am still....well, fucked up, big time.

Then again, it's a moot point, an argument not worth supporting. For someone who has an IQ of 67, I did something extraordinary today. I've decided that the two sides of my brain need to have a meeting, an important huddle to straighten shit out. They need to brainstorm. They need to agree that what I want isn't what I need but somehow I badly fucking want to believe that I need the one I can't have, even if I am aware what I'm feeling is really misleading, imbecilic, and utterly brainless.

An astral projection gone the way of an aneurysm.

When a tree falls in the forest then levitates but there's no one to see it, does it really matter? When words form in your head and blurt out from your mouth and land on uninterested ears, does it matter? Was the ending more important than the show itself? That's a trick question, actually. It's like the chicken-egg question; your answer only leads to more questions. And arguments.

So does a great start compensate for a lousy and abrupt ending?

Maybe.

Could be.

Clonk. Clonk. THUMP. That was my left brain clobbering my right brain.