The blank stare of my friend Karl as we sit in my car make envy bubble beneath my skin. He's the king of mental escape and at the drop of the hat reaches a zen like state of non-thinking and just being. I'm holding onto every thought in my addled mind from my humble beginnings as a zygote- and here his is blissed out and listening to shit music, knowing all the lyrics but it barely matters. There is no more room in my head for any more debris. I am running away with the sound of his voice, piggy-backing on his zen mood when he says, "I can feel you thinking."
I blush 'cause there's nothing else for it except I feel like saying sorry, though I'm not sure what fore. I've ripped open his zen like state, and now, we are staring my weekly bullshit in the face, and I begin to rant about weeks trails and tribulations. He asks me why I don't vent to my boyfriend, cousin or parents, and I laugh. They have no idea the world stresses me out as much as it does, they would have no idea what to do because I'm the "rock" in our family.
Mental escape is harder still because so many people are dependent on me to be functional. If I drank too much, ate too much, partied and all that- there'd be no one to keep things running- catching kids in the rye...lol. But seriously, I envy Karl's zen state, and I regret breaking his flow. I ask him what his secret is, and he says, "I could tell you, but then you'd have to kill yourself."
I love Karl- my brain grinds to a halt- I'm done analyzing and he smiles. I've escaped into my expresso buzz and the white noise of the road meeting tires...Karl laughs-delighted that he asked the right question at the right time.
