oh life. is that it?

red's concert was awesome. before the concert? not so much. after the concert? not so much. did i mention my mental instability? let's just say when my brain stops functioning, a lot of things don't seem as weird as they should.  it's times like these when i should just stay in my room and pretend there is no outside world. a wise man once said, an unopened door is a happy door.

for example. let's say a girl sees a store and thinks, "hey! i've got some time to kill before [insert activity here], maybe i can pop in for a bit!" so she enters the store, just to kill time, at which point she finds herself trapped in awkward conversation with the store owner. the aforementioned store owner invites her to play on a piano located in the back of the store, adding a line that was probably meant to be reassuring. a line like, "let me just close up." so this girl-- this foolishly innocent and fearless girl-- goes to play on the piano, which (surprise!) is real. and also really in the back room of this store. previously mentioned man (did i not mention it was a man? it was a man.) asks her if she would like to partake in the ceremonial burning of the grass. this girl, who is obviously insane, accepts this offer, while simultaneously realizing she was in the back room of a store, which is now closed. to make a long story short, she finally escapes from the store. but it took her almost thirty minutes to realize where she was and what was going on. and then it takes her another ten to get out. bad? yes. very bad. and it all could have been avoided by her not opening her room door.

that was a strange example, wasn't it? let's try something simpler. let's say this same girl-- just to stick with a familiar character-- is in her room a few days later, reading a book on her bed. let's give her a relative... maybe a sister. so this girl, her sister comes home unexpectedly (after vanishing for quite some time) and opens the door to the house. that's one barrier down but that couldn't have been avoided. unfortunately. let's say this girl's sister sleeps in the room across the hall, and she comes home to find her room has been semi-cleaned and there are folded clothes on her bed. maybe this sister realizes they aren't hers, and says to herself, "these aren't my clothes." so naturally, the next thing for her to do would be to knock on the door of the girl's room. the girl already knows that opening her door leads to hideous and terrible things happening, but for some reason, this foolish girl opens her door. her sister, of course, is holding the clothes that she found on her bed and says, "these must be your clothes, because they can't fit me." so the girl takes the clothes, her good mood now trampled, and throws the clothes on the floor. this plunges her into a terrible mixture of fury, self-hatred, and sadness that leads her to try on each of the clothes just to be sure they don't fit. so the clothes don't fit her, and she thinks for a second, "dumb bitch of a sister." then she realizes, well of course her sister would think they would fit her. she was obviously the size of a baby rhino. once again, she is forced to admit that it could have all been avoided by not opening her door.

i'll get over it. writing it out is therapeutic.

so is listening to bjork's songs. like pneumonia. she's not for everyone. but she most certainly is for me. and right before bed, i'll listen to some jeff buckley, and be glad that i don't have to open my door to enjoy them. that being said, i'll probably keep opening my door, because i know myself well enough. i'll always fight with life and keep telling it to hit me with all it has, and then when it suddenly hits me in a weak spot, i sulk. somewhere between licking my wounds and calculating funeral costs, i get really angry that i lost and i come back for another round. at least, that's what it feels like right now.

just gotta grin and bear it, i guess.

honestly.