the first few hours after the antichrist departs is an eerie time of detachment, peaceful regrets amidst the wreckage of this month’s visit. like clockwork, she is, and sneaks up on me everytime anyway, easy enough the way i misplace the date in my mind all the time. first i’ll notice the psychosis, then dismiss the thought and blame the circumstances; right around then’s when i seriously begin to spin. at some point in this process there is always an epiphany of sorts, in which i look back at the past month’s wreckage and realize aha! the cyclical bitch is back. unfortunately, this knowledge is virtually meaningless, i can be in full awareness and still be completely unable to identify and suppress this impulsive little psycho. let the evidence show i tried: email to friend midafternoon “can i call you i think i’m having a nervous breakdown”. come evening, there is this frantic flurry of disasterous wrongheadedness, quicklike before any voice of reason can be brought in to interrupt us.
and then the consequences. and then the dramatic flinging my self on the floor in tears, say five minutes, ten, and then the rolling over and the staring at the ceiling. the calming followed, at least physically, though the swirling thoughts continued their hectic pace. around about halfway through the hour or so i spent flat out down there, i sensed them slowly shifting from rage to remorse.
by the time i got upright again, she was gone, and i was numb.