I never saw the sudden curve before it's way too late

"And my skin is raw, but my soul is ripe,

And no one's gonna stop me now, I'm gonna make my escape
But I can't stop thinking of you,
And I never see the sudden curve until it's way too late
And I never see the sudden curve until it's way too late

Then I'm down in the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun,
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike,
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart, still beating,
Breaking out of my body and flying away
Like a bat out of hell"

Bat Out of Hell, Meatloaf

Round the curve my mind and body went, holding on to the pivot point of my willpower with hands white and bloody. Shocked I swung out the curve and into the arching fall. Oh first I swung up it was true, but always I was falling. Falling: The disaster of utmost control lost. I used to dream about falling a lot. That and being trapped in a gothic mansion were the most common fixture of my dreams. Then there was this dream I had of the terror tornado. It sounds so cheesy when I say it like that. When I was a kid that was what terror was like, a raging storm with a heading that I was in the way of. What powerlessness I felt then.

 How I lied to myself as if the drugs were all to blame.

The truth.... if there is a truth to me, is that I'm always running. Sometimes I'm running away, others I'm running towards something or other. Why is it so easy to be non specific about what I'm running from and not what I'm running towards? Both are fucking scary. 

*sigh* Love is irrational? Rationality is irrational. The world is full of paradox, ambiguity and uncertainty. We go against the grain of our very nature in our search for meaning. I feel like I'm supposed to be this fucking light in the darkness, but look at me. Not that anyone reading can look. I like to keep the me I am here and my face as separate as possible.

There's some part of me that doesn't want that reconciliation to happen easily. Oh sure, anyone could know who I am, but all this is just an elaborate lever that makes me examine myself in ways that amuse me. People talk back so rarely that there is an illusion of isolation. The blog is the 21st century answer to the confessional. It's better though, there are no prayers or answers offered. It allows people like me to work on ourselves.

Though that work is always transitional and temporary. Adulthood is thus: working in fits and starts and balancing reality with the places we escape to. Where are we running, or running from? One day maybe I'll have that answer.

Goodnight.