Hair Down

His hair is matted down in some strange fluids he puts in it.  Like there's work going on there in trying to tame it or change it, but it just ends up blobbed down, looking limp and greasy.  A weirdness prevails in the image from it, like a demented chld molester god forbid, or something even more freaky. Definitely something off the rails of general society.

There's occasional bursts of unbelievable poignancy and lucidity that spring up in conversations, but that is part of the disorder.  Observations that are keen and bright can be followed by hatreds and confusions. Its not dissimilar to what many other laypeople experience and exhibit, but on a milder, more schaadenfreude-type level.   The puffiness around the face and joylessness in the eyes however gives away the illness, and it can be alarming to the lay person to see.

The extreme changes of focus within conversational monologues borders on the unbelievable. It comes at almost breakneck speed and can be difficult to follow in any regular linear fashion.

But again, this is brought forth by the illness. Its a rambling monologue, full of hopes and dreams and checklists, and exclamations. Business ideas, dreams, and of course: despairing declarations of determined exodus from this fair city. When all is said and done, fukkit, I'm outta here man.

In the end its impossible to know, where his path will lead.  But, do I even know, the path that will be, for myself?

In a sense, we're the same, he and I. Not so dissimilar.  Perhaps thats why it bothers me.

To be continued. By the turns of the earth, and time.