Wet Paper Bag Hell Not So Good

It’s nice and scary waking up and realizing you’re still alive. I kinda forgot what it was like to feel things. I think I’ve been living in a dark, wet paper bag. It was pitch black and every so often a rancid smell of rotting corpses would wash over me. It was easier to stop feeling and living while existing in the world of wet paper bag hell. Oh, and for those keeping track, wet paper bag hell is one step below the handbasket ride to hell. When in the paper bag you’re already in hell, not just traveling there. You can’t hear anything or even participate in your own life. Things just happen for you and you feel like a moron because you’re in hell and can’t really even move or speak to change the course of the direction you’re heading.

Despite my recent foray into Satan’s anteroom, I think I managed to find my way to the edge of the wet paper bag hell – no I’ve not yet escaped from its dastardly clutches, but damn if Im not in the neck of the back and away from the zombie-like creatures who crawl around on the walls in the back. They’re the ones emitting the putrid dead animal smell – avoid them they have strange sticky skin and long dagger-like teeth that are as sharp as lasers. They also have this amazing talent of whispering sweet nothings into your ear. They convince of things you want; make you think that there are things that you can’t live without and you must pursue these items or people at any cost. What a flippin crock – and yet so easy to fall for in a place with no light and no reason.

Im glad to be rid of those personal demons – nasty business. Here in the neck of wet paper bag hell the more important things are needs. It’s much easier to determine between want and need here. And, in fact, I have left go some of my wants. (Like a Shelby Cobra is all that necessary in the mountains and snow). And as soon as I started letting go – I got some of my needs taken care of – some I had forgotten I had. But every so often one of those damned personal demon type creatures calls to me and I lapse back into my impatient wants. Damn. But now, there is enough gray light, here in the neck of hell, that I can ignore the wants after a few minutes of severe salivating. For example – I want a guy who will adore me every second of every day – but really I need someone who will just worry whether I made it to work or not. I want a guy who will call me every night and listen to every mundane thing that happened to me that day – but really, I need someone who will just show up occasionally and know me well enough to realize I just talk to hear my own voice sometimes.

Oh, and here’s something I didn’t realize I needed, until it hit me like a pile of rancid meat, people who are willing to run through a brick wall for me. I got ‘em. I’d forgotten about them in the back of the bag while I was being plied with ridiculous thoughts like “hey, you’re a loser.” Those damn demons again. But I kinda reintroduced myself to them, and am better for it. Having your own personal army is a nice thing. Very safe.

So I am currently stumbling my way to the entrance of the big ass wet paper bag, trying to avoid the walls, they are amazingly sticky and want to capture a person’s determination and slowly draw them back to the pitch black so the smelly demons can drool on you. Icky. It’s been an interesting trip – one I’ll not be taking anytime soon again. Well – I gotta find the damn door outta the bag first. Im still in the grey area – but it’s getting lighter.