As she walks out of the door and is hit by the initial sound of the city, wide-awake hours before her, she feels an impulse to return and build a cave out of blankets in her living room. There is an odd disconnect, like she is slightly out-of-synch, no matter how hard she tries. She feels that way when she buys coffee, and later, putting apples into a bag. There is that other thing that drives her to dance, in the middle of the street, which she withstands with even more willpower.
“no urge to speak / I silenced you – my guide”
-Just Do It.
There is something comforting in returning to patterns she has revised again and again over the past years. Her attempts to escape them – every second in a new outfit felt like a trial, like she was walking on a tight-rope. This is much better, and as the guitar starts to wander the dangerous thin red line again, expecting the drums to fall in any second, she starts to not mind all the little things around her that she found so disturbing before. She forgets about the billboards and what other people spent money on wearing, and what supermarkets sell as food. She might as well be a child again, with no idea at all how and why to buy things.
There are monsters out there and they are far less scary than the people she meets every day.
"Why would you think / that you make me drink / I'm a drunk, reasons I don't need / Just like you."
-Duke of Anxiety
2008 - This Fool Can Die Now
2006 - Kidnapped By Neptune
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