Mr. Tie Guy is sporting a real classic today: a black tie all decked out with Loony Toons characters bumping into one another and branching off in all different directions. I have a theory: They have got to be Christmas presents from Mrs. Tie Guy. Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day presents. Hideous ties. Year after year. Maybe it's not Mr. Tie Guy's fault, after all. He's only trying to spare his lovely wife's feelings.
Yeah. This thought helps me despise him less.
Mr. Tie Guy clears his phlegmy throat and finally croaks a request:
"Tell me about the pillars."
Sigh.
Alright.
I will answer him today.
"Well, the pillars are like...God, I haven't tried explaining this in awhile."
"It's okay. Take your time."
"Okay...I guess the pillars, they're like, everything--the things in my life that have remained consistant throughout the years. The things that have always been there and will always be there. Thinking about them as a visual entity--pillars--helps me feel...more grounded, I guess. Less likely to detatch from the ground and float off into oblivion."
"Can you be more specific?"
"I thought I was being specific."
"What exactly are the pillars, though? Examples."
"Uhm, okay. I guess...I mean, it's more of an overall feeling--a presence--it's not exactly physical or literal...but, I guess--family, friends, music that I like, things that I like, concepts...you know, things like that."
"And these things make you feel strong?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Safe?"
"Yes. Safe-er, anyway. It's just comforting, you know, when things get loud."
"You mean the Furies."
"Yeah."
"Let's hear about that."
Sigh.
Alright.
I will answer him today.
"I guess the Furies are essentially every evil thing residing within me, making themselves known through various forms of taunting, relentless irrational thinking and crippling self-loathing. I separate these thoughts from my own and give their credit to the Furies because I do not identify with them personally. I don't want to think these things, especially not frequently and loudly. I just want to find a way to silence them. For good. I've learned to dim them, even mute them at times, but they always find a way back..."
"And that's where the Lifeboat comes in."
"Yes."
"And the Lifeboat is what? The medicine?"
"Yes and no."
Pause. I'm watching him fidget with his tie, which is secured so snugly against his sweaty pink neck that tiny blue veins are beginning to scream against the surface of the skin for air.
"I guess it varies. Right now, I guess, yeah, the medicine was supposed to be my Lifeboat. A comfortable break from the churning storms, and the security of knowing that I'll never drift too far away. But...that kind of fucking sucks, doesn't it? I don't want this to be my Lifeboat. I don't want to need a prescription to keep the Panic at bay. It's ridiculous. It's fake."
He checks his watch and so do I. Fifteen minutes remain.
"So you don't want to take the medicine anymore, then?"
"I didn't say that. The truth is, I'm just not sure yet. I mean, I'm on a much lower dose than I was last time. And that makes me feel a little bit better about the whole thing. But still..."
"What?"
His impatience irritates me.
"I want a real-life cure for the neurotic bullshit going on inside my head. I want to go out into the world and find it myself. Earn it. Not take the easy way out with some handful of generic downers."
Pause. It would seem that Mr. Tie Guy has no reply.
"I guess I'm just hungry for change."
He tells me that I'm showing real signs of improvement and progress. I say yeah, yeah, thanks. He says that I seem fine, and I can go home early. I am not done talking. He, however, is done listening.
This has been the last conversation Mr. Tie Guy and I will ever have.
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