Just A Final Thought

At one time in my life I had a very cozy, laid back Latibule where I could just curl up into myself and not worry about outside concerns. Among all the adverse things going on in the world, I was still able to maintain some form of sanity.

Although, there was a time when ūhtcearu would invade my space like a drunken sod. My doctor calls it pre-dawn anxiety. Back then, I called it not having enough beer.

Because of this, I had a case of severe Monachopsis, that being out of time, out of place thing where I didn’t fit in with any one thing or any one person. Again, my doctor said I would get over it, saying that my Athazagoraphobias of being forgotten wouldn’t last long. Of course I thought to myself, “Sure. Fifty years after I’m dead, no one would know about me to begin with.”

Like I explained to my doctor, I never had that, ah, oh what do you call it—you know; when you are close to people but not close? Oh, I remember now. Midding, that’s what the doctor calls it. Something about feeling good being nearby people without having to be involved with what they do. Basically, all my life, I have been a loner who occasionally gets involved with people, especially when it comes to, ah—dining in.

But my doctor said my big issue was relationship agony. He called it, Pistanthrophobia, the fear of getting hurt romantically.

For years I had this persisting problem called Monachopsis. Yeah, I know, another big word. But I was clumsy around people, distracted and felt out of touch, out of place.

But my doctor says I am getting much better now since my thirst for cannibalism has waned considerably. He said that if I continue improving he may recommend I be released from the world of insanity I am locked into in another five or ten years.

But you know something? Just once I would like to take a bite of that finger he points at me for old time sake.

*****

For the record: Definitions

Midding: feeling invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge

that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill

of being there without the burden of having to be.

Latibule: A cozy, safe, hidden away place. One where a soul can cocoon

themselves and find comfort and solace. A latibule is a necessity

if one is to keep their sanity intact and their heart strong.

Monachopsis (noun): The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place,

as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering,

clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable

to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat,

in which you'd be fluidly, brilliantly.

Athazagoraphobia: a fear of forgetting someone or something,

as well as a fear of being forgotten.

Pistanthrophobia: a phobia of getting hurt

by someone in a romantic relationship.

ūhtcearu: waking up with a sense of pre-dawn anxiety.