Decompression

I've been in a dark place the past few days. Most people know to leave me alone when I get like this - I mean my game face is enough to scare off the the warmest smile - and yet, yesterday, while waiting for my latte, this flamboyantly gay hippie asked for change. Normally when homeless people ask for something I couldn't be cooler, but again, yesterday I was unapproachable, so when I said, sorry, bro, I can't help you, I expected him to move on. Instead he just stood there, inches from my face. He asked for a dollar this time, and again I said, sorry, I can't help you, only this time it was with more emphasis and, probably, more disgust. He still wouldn't leave. It was at this point that the fruit decided I was the reincarnation of Lucifer himself. He gave me this look like I was the most revolting person he had ever encountered, making this "ewwwww, gross" expression, only he still wouldn't get out of my face, and kept turning around and then back, trying to find another customer that would be on his side and agree with his assessment. I found myself getting warmer. I looked at the girl behind the counter, the one who helps me everyday, and motioned to her with me eyes, like, hey, get this cunt away from me. He asked a third time for change and I didn't respond, just staring him straight in the eye. When he asked "what?" like he couldn't fathom what was annoying me, I told him to leave me the fuck alone. This time I must have said it emphatically, because two employees came from behind the counter and asked him to leave.

But he didn't, waiting outside the door, and then he followed me back to the gallery, the whole time walking a few feet behind me and behaving like I had been the biggest disappointment of his young life.

I don't know why this incident stuck with me. I mean, I guess it was sort of troubling to go through this ordeal in public, but it isn't like I don't experience tweakers every day. But the thing is, another couple of seconds and something bad would have happened, something really bad, and it's scary to think what a few traumatic experiences can trigger in my mind.

One of these days I'm gonna lose the war.

I guess this explains why I've been watching Jacob's Ladder the past three evenings with my mouth wide open, unable to muster a sound.