Sound of a Broken Drum

Chapter 1 - Start of Part I

 Have you ever felt your whole body just glue to the bed? Those early mornings when your eyes are wide open but your body just doesn't want to work. So you just stare at the ceiling waiting for that stupid alarm clock to go off. But it doesn't... because time just slows down when you're wide awake frozen in bed. You don't even want to get up because you know the day will start and you will go somewhere you don't want to be, be around people you absolutely hate, watching that clock so you can come back here and start this shit all over again. I think I can see Carl Sagan's wrinkled face in the paint strokes on the ceiling.

Shit, what if my body just stays frozen like this?

Then you got an excuse to not go to work...

How am I supposed to call in sick if I can't move?

Just use your telepathy...

Fuck you... am I talking to myself again?

Just as long as you don't do it aloud, it's

"... normal."

FUCK.

And with that, the stupid alarm clock goes off like a siren in the dark room. The first rim shot of the day.

Except my left arm was completely numb. I must have slept on it. Couldn't move it at all. Couldn't turn off that stupid alarm. So I swung over my right arm and the next thing you know, I was on the floor with that alarm clock crashing right down on me.

At least it's off now.

There's no way for me to turn off this running dialogue inside my head. I'm like the narrator to my own story that nobody reads, kind of like a musical monologue where you just ruminate to an invisible audience until you break into song to whatever is playing in the background. The funny thing is that people still think I'm normal because they never actually see me doing this. You just smile at them and they think you're normal. You could absolutely hate their guts but as long as you smile... it's actually quite easy to fake.

My co-workers. I see them everyday and I just smile. But then sometimes smiling just doesn't make any sense. I mean in the grand scheme of things, the world is absolute shit. Either you are reading articles with these celebrities you have death chamber fantasies about or hearing about children getting massacred in some far away country, news that will barely make a Tweeter feed in America. What makes it worse is that people are so proud of being human. They wear it on their sleeve like it means something. And then they go cheating on their spouses, wagging their dicks around, and women just love it. Their mouths salivate at the thought. We all need a little drama in our lives before we ship ourselves down the river, they say.

At work, you hear all kinds of conversations. When you go outside, you hear the same. When you don't really say much, you just listen. And then you hear too much and regret it. That's when I stop smiling. Then I just stare at the wall.

I know, I'm a goddamn malcontent. Even my shrink tells me that. I never know why she even bothers saying anything to me. She knows I don't listen to any of the self-help techniques she recommends. They don't work. Not when you see and hear the things you do. And the brain just soaks it up and puts it on repeat.

But God, I want to fuck her. She's always looking so innocent with those glasses sitting on her Jewish nose, wearing those long skirts that ride up her calves. The way she looks back at me when I rant at her, that disconnected glance as she pretends to understand what I am talking about. The way she bubbles up when I go too far and say something absolutely awful and starts tapping her feet. I absolutely adore her and that's why I keep going to those therapy sessions.