Floating

Floating in the ethereal world between reality and insanity is a tight spot to be in all the time. It’s always a hard landing when my balloon filled with unfulfilled dreams mixed with bits of broken heart and tossed with a heaping helping of distrust and self loathing. Whenever my precious little balloon, which does a suberb job of keeping me afloat is popped by some errant arrow of deceit or niceness or other worldly emotion, I come crashing down and land with a distinct thud on earth.

Earth is cold and unforgiving. At least in my space above the fray of life I don’t have to deal with the everyday mundane bits of life that are required to be a human. Walking on clouds of disbelief and numbness is a comforting place to be instead on this hard surface. I don’t have to face a variety of realities when I’m floating aimlessly in the clouds.

I don’t have to worry about losing my house every month in my fantasy world. In fact, I float around in a hammock so whenever I want to drift off to oblivion, I’m ready to roll. I don’t have balance my checkbook on the razor’s edge between skipping meals and turning off my internet every month. Buying a book or a new CD is strictly verboten now; purchasing my favorite soft drink – a yummy sweet, cold Coke requires a certain amount of scrounging around in my car for loose change. This sends me straight back to my safe zone as soon as the Coke hits my lips.

In addition, I don’t have to listen to my principal telling me he’s going to start writing me up if I miss any department meetings – even though I have yet to miss any meetings. So, I’m coaching a bunch of high school kids and extend my day at school to 7 p.m. everyday. I could lose my house and I’m dedicating 12 or more hours of my life Monday-Friday to a school system that wants to write me up for missing a 30 minute meeting two times a month. What the hell is that? When did sanity take a left turn and common sense stranded on the island with no way off except through the guts of sharks. Oh, this excludes the 14-hour Saturdays that start in April and last every weekend till June. Loyalty is not wanted here.

All this makes me wanna blow up my balloons and ascend to safety more than anything else. However, there was one bright spot this time on Earth. I found out my ex is about rack up 15K on credit cards for his whore to buy all NEW appliances for the house they are buying together. 15K – in this economy, and neither’s job is secure. I can’t help but to smile. Let the epic fail begin in earnest.

Okay, my balloon’s are all set, filled with essential necessities to keep me ethereally floating for another 30 days. I do pity the poor fellow who manages to totally suck all the air from my balloons (all black) and force me to earth for an extended period. I wouldn’t want to deal with my crankiness at being yanked from my self-induced exile and being forced to trust someone again.