Oh my God!
I can't believe what just happened!
I mean truly—only moments ago!
I sat down, ready to write B.F.M. (end2) Part 11 when
I heard something big cRaSh! to the floor!
So leaping to my feet, I dashed out of my office into
The living room where, much to my surprise, a huge piece of art
(4'X4' square) encased in plexiglass was seen standing
Upright, completely intact on the Italian ceramic tiled floor!
As this sight was so shocking as to render me speechless
Moments passed while I stood there collecting my wits before
The sight before me offered my processor as much reason to feel
Relieved as stunned to see the plexiglass frame and floor tiles
Unharmed at which time, I returned to my office, feeling inspired to
Pen this next train of thought, which felt worthy of tracking as soon as
I sensed it chugging out of the conscious portion of my mind:
Who's to say when two things (or people), seemingly connected, like a painting securely attached to a wall, unexpectedly separate—suggesting that the undetected process of growing apart has been crumbling their intimate connection, little by little, for quite awhile. Reminds me of relationships, which seem solidly secure on the surface while, in truth, a pair of interwoven hearts have been moving through the slo-mo process of parting ways.
So let's see—where was I before a valuable artifact slipped from wall to floor? Oh yes, in review—I'd left you hanging onto the voice-of-authority raging away while every boy and one girl sat gawking in silence, still as statues, fingers gripping tightly to edges of wooden benches, eyes glued to the apoplectic expression of fury, contorting every feature of the bus driver's face while authority’s voice of frustration is winding down.
In the silence following authority’s lightening quick flash of fury, hypnotic tension, zinging tautly, back and forth through the air, holds every processor in the van spellbound as though fearing a time bomb exploding if so much as a shudder of a sound shatters the silence until—a snicker is released, and lo and behold—
Pandemonium busts loose freeing the braying of donkeys to ricochet off ceiling, floor, windows and walls spraying a hellish display of hilarity pointedly at every nerve in my body, stimulating my anxiety to spike as humiliation, piercing straight through my persona, strikes my conscious awareness so deeply—rat-a-tat-rat-a-tat—as if imprinting my self image with the painful permanence of this tattoo:
LAUGHING STOCK! UGLY DUCKLING! OUTCAST! ANNIE THIS IS YOU!
Now it's the bus driver's turn to gawk in astonishment while his well-meant admonishments are trampled to death by the riotous uproar of this uncaged zoo. Upon firing off one last flaring glare at his mutinous charges, seen leaping gleefully off wooden benches into life boats, the captain, succumbing to defeat, sinks back down into his seat while I, watching his spirit deflate, feel mine refusing to passively go down with the ship, and thus do I choose to deflect male rejection by walking the plank, sealing my spirit’s fate to drown humiliation in a turbulent tidal wave of subconscious angst, which runs much too deep for the mind of a child to fathom for decades to come.
Upon reflection, I imagine depths of frustration with which 'my friend' shoves the pedal to the metal while making a beeline straight toward my house. And though my protector alters his route to get me home in record time, let’s...
Imagine my anxiety skyrocketing beyond denial's ability to numb humiliation
Imagine my body pressed stiffly up against non-stop laughter piercing every nerve with agony too unbearable for denial to numb as that van (every bit as white as the hide of the good knight’s galloping steed) careens toward my house
Imagine my head pounding with need to escape so as to fly free of ridicule’s evil spell long before the bus driver pulls up to the curb and slams on the brakes
Imagine how this final rocky ride home from the house of God will portend for the future whenever a male hip draws too near to my own ...
Imagine preteen me desperate to separate from that hormonal pack of
Laughing hyenas, who’d not stopped needling my budding sensuality for so much as a second ...
Imagine me sitting here, decades later ...
Pounding emotion, long repressed, into my keyboard while
An overwhelming sense of yesteryear's pressurized angst
Quickens the palpitating beat of my heart, releasing latent
Spikes of anxiety, which had shanghied my processor whenever
The ghostlike presence of yesteryear’s subconscious fear of
Male rejection arose to numb all conscious awareness of
My self-empowered sensuality titulating
The magnetic arousal of male sexual excitement
Imagine the ghostlike presence of those bullies heckling
My sense of security if I gain so little as one pound, today—Jeez Louise—
Someone save me from reliving pain-ridden moments, long past, forever!
Uhhhh—hold the phone—
How easy it is to forget that ...
The only one who can free my psyche’s distorted self image of latent pain crushing my spirit, today, is—ME!
After walking that plank, I (like a caged gerbil running on a wheel) was fated to swim in circles for decades until, thank goodness, the subconscious portion of my brain stopped rock’n roll’n round that shipwrecked moment just long enough for my processor to gain insight into my need to gain the courage to remove my blindfold so as to dive, repeatedly, eyes open wide into the deep end of my mind so as to mine forgotten details by seeking out an astute helpline whenever subconscious aspects of latent emotionality get to feeling like a series of whirlpools, spinning my awareness from ‘this is now to that was then’ too swiftly to keep my head above water in hopes of saving my psyche from drowning in rapids of repressed fears that surface as spikes of unidentified anxiety whenever any sensation of yesteryear's unresolved angst has been stimulated to geyser up, unexpectedly—interminably!
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