Nothing makes my mind race faster than meeting a potential love interest. The immediate fantasy of us together in a day, a month, a year. Compound that with hours of simulated conversation, inventing her quirks, imagining our serendipitous similarities. I imagine how her face looks longing for me, upset with me, placidly looking at a suspect meal on a long road trip. The first smile I ever show her happens after creating a long false history of us.
This is not a healthy start to a relationship.
The best couplings happen when you take things as they come, and pay attention. No one can live up to fantasies.
Still, there is a morbid pleasure in falling deep in love instantly.
The bottle of sedatives lives in the nightstand. Pushed all the way to the end of the drawer it knows never to rear it’s head, it’s an easy reach away when needed. When the little bastard cylinder flies forward it’s a harbinger of wanting, a sharp click punctuates a need.
There won’t be any sleep tonight.
I’ve had some of the strangest saviors in my darkest moments. Struggling with depression and lackadaisical about dealing with it I’d drift through days and just find different things to numb the dull ache. The impending nausea only increased when I compounded it with considerations of struggling to cope. Indifference and apathy were my twin superpowers. As things spiraled to a point of restricting me from even leaving the house I found a new hobby.
Most people would have taken the new purchase as a cry for help, the first step of someone taking a drastic step towards a final solution. Really I had just stumbled around something that kept my hands working on something mechanical, kept my mind nimble researching a new subject, and exposed me to a community of new people.
It’s bicycles now.
The bicycles are keeping me sane.