Here it is… 5:33 am.
I have a meeting with Liam: The Brick today.
I should have been asleep hours ago… but I can’t sleep.
When I was a child, it would have been because there was a monster under the bed. Unfortunately, it’s not like that. There’s no monsters under my bed. There’s no room. My bed is a memory foam mattress on the floor. I know – I am a grown ass man. I should not be living like a college student.
There are a couple reasons for this. I have a bad back. I need support that a traditional box spring/mattress combination cannot provide. The problem with this is that I can’t put it on a normal bed, so I have to make my own. I have the skill and the tools. The problem is that wood is expensive. All of my money is in film making. So… when I get a distribution deal, I build a bed.
But, no. It’s not monsters under the bed.
It’s monsters in my head.
I worry about things. That is part of anxiety disorders. I worry about odd shit… but these things that I can’t fix… I can’t help worrying about them either. Add to that, the mixed bipolar… Basically it takes all these things and puts them in a demonic blender of anxiety and worry in my head. Some of them are valid… some are stupid… but they all scare me.
|Oh, Daddy! You are silly! I would not crush your head. I
would eat you instead!
What if the ceiling comes crashing down on me in the middle of the night?
What if the floor (which we already know is partially bad from previous repairs) gives out?
What if Zoe gets in my room at night and sits on my head? She’s Fat and that would crush my skull.
Meteors. I worry about them. Limnic eruptions. Black holes and ray bursts. All kinds of things astronomical.
What if I am just part of someone else’s dream? Or what if the world exists because I believe it does… What happens if I lose my faith?
What if one of the religions is right?
Does god have feet?
|This scares the hell out of me!|
What if those petty people who don’t like me or my work are right? What if it does suck? What if I am only the next Ed Wood?
What if my penis is small and everyone I have ever been with has just being nice?
What if my diabetes makes me blind or takes a foot?
Oh, God! Did I leave the stove on, front door unlocked, shoes by the door, tv on, fryer on, dryer going, heat turned up, water running?
What if Al Gore’s inconvenient truth is right? What if it’s wrong?
What if, in spite of all the medicines they’ve tried and want to try, my brain just can’t be fixed?
Am I too tall? I mean, is almost 7 feet, too tall?
Why do my pants cost so much?
Why are lenses so damn expensive?
Is my misanthropy a result of genetics, brain malfunction, experience or something else… and does it make me a bad person?
Why can’t I write when I want to?
Will TOR publish my book?
Will ANYONE publish my books?
Why is my hair blue? Why not pink or green?
Little people… scare me…
OMG the uncanny valley!
THIS GUY PERSONIFIES THE UNCANNY VALLEY.
Okay. Now that I have given myself the willies… I think I am gonna take a bath.