Provable probability A squared + B squared = Help me!

Say it isn’t so.

Please.

That it did not really happen.

Please.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

Please.

I will never.

Ever.

Go so far as to say that you have won.

That you are winning.

Nope.

Never.

Tragedy has a way of re-aligning priorities in a nanosecond heartbeat.

Then we are left with conundrum after problem after mean excuse after

Collapse.

The coup of all the clues and coups lie in the explanation after the fact. The process is the punishment (bs). The punitively punitive punishment of a plea of the insanity of the cluster……

Geometrically speaking here.

It never seems to end.

No beginning.

No middle.

No end.

And then again.

All beginnings.

All middles.

All ends.

The circle.

or.

The square.

Which way to go.

Which way to get there the fastest.

While wishing, really wishing for a day when it matters not what we may look like, or look at, or look to, or look up to.

Wishful thinking.

I don’t think so…..

Superficial.

Yep.

The cart before the horse. The dig before the break.

The mountain before the rain. The erosion before the settling.

Ick.

All sounds so circularly dreadful.

The shadows of doubt keep dive bombing the psyche.

Soon to be dark sides blowing out of the gut like a volcano erupting.

Ick.

Kinda like a farmer’s blow.

ICK AGAIN.

The fact of the matter. Then fact of the matters.

Is the fantastical way in which we may pretend that which we wish never happened,

Happened.

Further. The never ending quest to prove the right thing happened takes on a gargoyle life of its own.

Scary.

Ugly.

The look of all looks—the mimicries that pierce the brain like a never ending crown of throned needles.

Ouch.

The tingling turns into piercing. Turns into aching. Within seconds….. within minutes.

Seconds. Minutes.

Including all of us who feel the way we do.

And. Are not afraid to show it☺️

Which came first the chicken or the egg?

The lie before the truth.

The truth before the lie.

The pull before the punch.

The push before the shove.

Oh, how we wish we could throw the first punch and move from defense to offense. We dream and even suffocate our shadows—-into thinking our way of proving the point is the only way.

Until the monitor of all monitors buzzes us into reality saying.

Stop it!

Please.

You are eating yourself alive.

Funny.

Cause I do not feel all that tasty right now.

In fact I feel positively sour,

About it all.

Add to this the pull of the punch,

The spit into your direction when you are not looking,

The wishful thinking of the wool being pulled over your eyes instead of mine.

The provable facts.

Which are open to interpretation, I suppose.

The dig of the deeper.

The darkness we all hole up inside of ourselves, us, but are afraid to admit we do.

We like to be portrayed like a new penny, all shiny and new and hot and the bag of chips.

Please.

Hit the snooze button.

Move on and all that very specific gibberish we moan and groan about while trying to convince the world we are not the victim of our own self loathing. Sometimes. We blame ourselves. Other times, we blame the weather.

Who to blame? When there is no one else to blame?

You.

Me.

The other guy?

The other girl?

The dog? ( Hey, that is an unfair and a low blow to the dog…..having only the language skills of a two year old and all…..

We wish one day, and finally seriously for the pain not to be the story of our lives.

Coping takes its toll.

We listen to sad music. We eat the gallon of ice cream, the bag of chips, the bottle of Coke, the never ending binge will fill us up for certain. And then comes the wishful thinking of stepping right into our Size 2 jeans☺️.

In our dreams.

Maybe.

In reality.

Not so much.

When you come to a fork in the road—Take it. (Yb) That path way of self satisfaction becomes they way of life and not the taking and no giving of oneself as a constant, daily menu of self sacrifice.

For others to “eat you up.”

And they will.

Or.

They might.

Once they get wind of how you “operate.” Even then it is open to endless interpretation. The truth may lie in the specifics. So, does the due diligence of the truth with a dash of probable cause.

If it feels right, do it?

Maybe.

Have you ever looked out there. And seen a never ending road of never ending-ness. Scary. Futile. Pointless. Wild abyss.

Out on our own with no paddle. No need for a paddle, because there is no water to be seen for mikes and miles. Thirst is the dry mouth panting while the sun beats down on the tingling head of thorns and needles parceling our consciousness while we wish for a better time of life.

Problem is the last time of life informs the now times of life informs the future times of life.

Until one day.

It doesn’t

It stops.

The tinnitus of all things memories.

All things distracting.

ALL THINGS BUZZING.

Around the periphery.

Like a bad cough.

Like a bad person.

Which we all can be. When we do not know what we don’t know.

When we try to fill in the pieces of a broken heart and fill the broken pieces with something. Anything.

Good.

Bad.

Filling. Un fulfilling.

Whatever it takes.

We do what we can to fill the void, to prove we are not wrong. Can and will walk the endless road a million times over just to

Prove a point.

That, then, becomes the point. Takes on a lIfe all of its own.

We die a little inside more each day.

Things come out of the wood works we never could have imagined in our lifetime.

Time heals.

If we allow it.

In.

Otherwise.

We aimlessly walk forward with no direction. No where to go.

And.

All day to get there.