Slippery

Lately, my feelings have been extremely slippery.

In short bursts I feel clarity, but it's of the happy variety, the easy variety. Clarity is easy to come by when life seems perfect (and life only seems perfect when, by the function of an intensely pleasurable moment, you forget the peripheral imperfections). In no time at all, I resume my neutral state, sometimes slipping into "deep" thought, which is another way of saying "no thoughts, just an all-consuming emotional weight."

That guy did end up calling me back yesterday and we enjoyed a semi-wonderful brunch this afternoon. What does that say about the profound sadness I felt yesterday, and will most likely feel again once my ego-bucket has emptied?

(Do not mock the ego-bucket. We all have one, and they empty easily, like the cones at water parks that overflow and tip on willing passerby. The tipping is hardly noticeable, but once the buckets are drained of their life-giving nectar we are left with skinless emotions, like a peeled tomato after blanching. Everything is tender and sensitive to prodding.)

Whoa, too many similes.

If I like this guy, than I should want him. If I am going to spend a day moping, at least let it inspire me. If I'm going to feel joy, it should last more than an hour. So, essentially, I am done with the slippery. I need concrete from now on.