“Everybody knows where we’re going. Yeah, we’re going down.”
I hate fights. I also hate the weird organic thing inside of me that makes me think there is a fight where there isn’t. Also, quite honestly, I despise the places that brew up inside of my brain that make me think there are pockets of unhappiness. I’m usually completely wrong, but my paranoia almost breeds arguments and irritation. It’s hard to shake that feeling though and should you ever learn? What if you blissfully wander through a relationship ignoring that useless organ? What about when it’s important and you’re not on the ball for it?
It’s well known that my intuition, when aimed outward, is rarely wrong. I’ve said.. “I told you so.” so many damn times that the worry wrinkles are etched along my browline. Honestly, I’m used to being on the mark when other people are concerned. However, I think that a cancerous tumor has built up on that organ that throws off the chemicals and now sometimes I see issues where there are none. My brain tries to convince me that I’m right though and in that, the little kicked-up voices start whispering to me that maybe it’s this or maybe it’s that. Maybe I’m missing SOMETHING that could possibly hinder my bed of roses and I’m just not seeing it, you know?
That’s when the questioning starts and I’m using my finger to prod through the mass, trying to get it to stop making me worry when I keep hearing “Everything is fine.” and then? What happens? I irritate it. I make a problem where none had lived previously and then I’m moody and they’re moody and it’s a whole big thing.
What do you do in that situation? Step away? That makes the other party want to know what in the hell is wrong with you. And when they ask, what do you even say in response? “I have a relationship tumor and it’s actin’ up something fierce today.”? I doubt that works. Then, they want to do something and you’re still nursing that killer case of paranoia and it’s muddling everything around you — you can think of nothing but that?
Is that when I introduce medication into the whirlpool? At what point does the itch go away? Maybe it’s an anticipatory dread because you never want to lose sight of the person you adore and their needs and requirements. The thing is, doesn’t it mess up the clockworks when your needless suspicions are the ones fucking that up in the first place?
Complicated. It’s all very complicated and it seems you can’t just find a card on the shelf that says.. “Sorry, I’m neurotic and hopelessly in love with you.”.
