Sunday, June 1, 2008


I took one class in human psychology, so that makes me an expert. Seriously.

Based on my schoolings, I believe the individual can categorize his or her fears into two piles: rational and irrational fears. A rational fear is something like "I'm scared of bugs and snakes." or "I'm afraid of the dark, because I can't see what's beyond my outstretched hand." An irrational fear is like "I'm afraid of disappointing my fans by putting on a sub par performance in my latest film about super heroes," or "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up next to my dead girlfriend one morning."

The latter is a fear I never considered until this morning.

Let me paint this picture: The Lady doesn't sleep often, she grapples with insomnia, but when she does sleep it's not like the deepest sleep out there. This morning, my alarm went off at 9, I popped up out of bed and shut it down. I then crawled back into bed, curled up next to my girlfriend who was back-to to me and wrapped her up and gave her a kiss on the shoulder, saying "hey, it's 9,".

I noticed right away how clammy her skin was.

Before I go any further, let me give my readers a little insight into my past: I've seen a lot of dead bodies. I've seen a lot of dead women it seems. Out of all the dead bodies I've seen, only two were men, one was a 19 year old who took a hot-shot of brown powder up his nose and never woke up, really bumming out his friends and the owner of the cottage he expired in, and the other was a 47 year old mama's boy who ate himself to death in his kitchen. Every other body was female, and 50% naked.

So back to this morning, I give The Lady a gentle shake and she's completely limp. I poke her hard in her spine: nothing. Not even a grunt. I stay completely still trying to see if she's moving at all, her breath, anything (in hindsight, I should've checked for a pulse, but I was quickly sliding into full on panic mode) I'm saying her name louder and louder. Now I'm naked and up on my knees over here, shaking her, almost yelling.




And then she pops up, half spins and looks me dead in my eyes with pools of purplish/blue. For a second a wave of whatever you wanna call it - when you thank god for a miracle - washes over me. I collapse on top of her, holding her super tight and breathing hard.

"What? What's the matter?" She says.

"I thought you were dead..." and it sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth. How very irrational. I just lay there and she holds me, probably wondering to herself "what the fuck did I just miss?"

I have fears, I have more than I'd like. And I never thought one of them was ever an irrational fear, because I thought that an irrational fear could never strike your psyche the same way a regular ol' fashion fear of fucking mice could.

But now I know different.

1 comment:

Angry Ballerina said...

Now you know how I feel about little people.