She said that she was the serious one. What she meant was that she was the one who thought through the various implications of us doing something else. I, on the other, have gone through a period of trauma that made me think that nothing was serious, nothing was important.
I was shaken to the core, I was roughed up so badly that I lost bits of myself, but I gained something valuable; I understood that every moment of it was valuable and that if I came through it, I would not follow the same path again. I hadn’t come all this way just to go back to that thing that we all call normality.
Why should I have gone through that deep level of shit only to emerge from it in order to slip back into the same old shit that brought me down in the first place? You would think that there would be some reward for getting through the titanic trial. Well, the reward could possibly have been to accept another twelve labours and to do this indefinitely or to sign up for a quest for the Golden Fleece.
Golden Fleece sounds good. Sailing with others on a Greek cruise sounds good as well.
“What about the Golden Fleece?” I asked the wife.
“You’ve got fleas?”
“No, the Golden Fleece; Hercules and adventure.”
“Are you still taking the tablets?”
I have been trying to pull myself off the tablets. I think they are doing me some good but I also think that relying on them too much for too long is not going to help me in the long-run. So, pill-popping has been cut down over these last few weeks. I have done it before, only to relapse and force the turkey to visit the Pharmacy at the earliest possible time. I don’t know if this time will be the successful time or if it will just be another failed attempt that leaves me in a despair that speaks highly of my lack of willpower or personal self-belief.
My idea is that I come off the supporting drugs in order to launch myself on an odyssey of mythic proportions that will enable my adventurers to be captured and acclaimed throughout the seven kingdoms.