I met someone today. Me. Very weird, to say the least, because although he was vaguely familiar, I actually didn’t recognise him at all.
I’ve been trying to find some clarity in the murk of my crumbling marriage, but without too much success. If communication is the key, then I’ve been using a wire coat hanger for the past few years – it gets the job done, but not without causing damage and pain every so often. Eventually, the door breaks. In short, I’m a big, fat liar. It’s been so long since I’ve been honest with anyone (myself included) about any damned thing that matters, I’ve almost completely forgotten how it’s done.
I have been forced to recognise that there are dual aspects to my personality. At the reception desk, there is the dashing, debonair, devil-may-care dude. Meanwhile, in the back room, lurks a twitching, neurotic mass of issues, peering out of the dark places with narrowed, suspicious eyes – always ducking out of sight should anyone glance in his direction. These fellows are not friends, but up until recently, they’ve had a kind of uneasy truce going where only one of them would be in control of the switchboard at any given time. Now the bastards are trying to operate it simultaneously and it’s all very confusing.
To illustrate – things have finally reached the stage where I’ve had to instruct my lawyer to initiate divorce proceedings. Light Side shakes his head, wipes away a small tear and sniffs, “How sad”, but at the very same time, Dark Side laughs, paints his arse blue and bellows, “FREEEEEEDOM!” Getting these two to play nicely is going to be difficult.