Thinking About the Good Thing

maniac1

I was thinking about the good thing and this was making me feel very happy! I felt SO happy, I felt SO great. Everything was wonderful. I kept thinking about how fantastically great the good thing was, “The good thing is really, really great,” I kept saying to myself, “It’s so marvelous! it’s so brilliant! It’s unbelievably great. I can hardly believe how great it is. Wow!” This is the type of stuff that was going through my head. I couldn’t seem to get tired of thinking about how good the good thing was: “It’s so fantastic. It’s absolutely splendid. It’s the business. It’s the bee’s knees!” I didn’t know that that last thing meant but I liked the sound of it all the same. “It’s fabuloso! It’s so damn cool! It’s out of sight!” I enthused. “It’s the mind’s invention. It’s not my intention!” This last bit was from a song I think, though I couldn’t remember the name of it. “It’s Suzy Wong! It’s a nuclear bomb!” I went on. Then I went into one of my litanies about how great the good thing was: “The good thing is so great, the good thing is so great, the good thing is so great, the good thing is so great…” I repeated fervently.

 

I went on and on like this – there was no containing me. Looking back, I can see that I had been getting carried away. I can see that this was going over the top, in a big way. The pity was however that I couldn’t have seen it at the time because all of a sudden things seemed to take a nasty turn and I realized that I had over-done it. I could see that I had milked it too much. I could see that I had in fact torn the arse right out of it! This realization came too late though because the good had already gone out of it – the good had gone right out of the good thing and now it was no longer good… Now, it had turned bad. It had gone sour on me. All that was left was this disgustingly putrid taste in my mouth, like I had been chewing on a dead rat or something. I started up a pitiable wail: “The good thing has gone bad, the good thing has gone bad, the good thing has gone bad, the good thing has gone bad…”

 

Needless to say, this carry on didn’t help at all. It didn’t improve my mood one bit. Everything felt terrible – the light had gone out and I was sitting at the bottom of a dark deep pit! The good thing had gone and in its place was something horrible. “The bad thing is SO bad!” I said to myself, “so very bad…”  I could believe how rotten the bad thing was. It was absolutely awful. It was horrendous. It was a nightmare. “Why does the bad thing have to be so bad?” I moaned, “What have I done to deserve this?” I can’t even begin to explain how rotten I felt at that moment – I had never known that it was possible to feel so terrible. And it was all the fault of the bad thing. Or rather, I corrected myself, it was all MY fault because I had overdone it with the good thing. I had torn the arse out of the good thing and now there was no more good left in it. I – like a fool – had milked it so much that it had turned pure rotten. Like a stinking rotten fruit. “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault…” I wailed, unable to avoid seeing the enormity of my mistake. This was the biggest mistake ever.  The biggest fuck-up in history and I had made it! “I’m such a fuck-up, I’m such a fuck-up, I’m such a fuck-up,” I kept saying to myself, punching myself savagely in the head every time I said the word ‘fuck-up”.

 

This became my new litany and I launched into it big time, striking myself repeatedly as I came out with it. I was black and blue after a while, I can tell you, and my mood was as dark as ever. Eventually my arm grew tired and I just lay there in a heap, full of misery and self-loathing. Sore all over where I had been punching myself. It occurred to me then that I had been over-doing it again! I had gone to town. I had gone over the top. I had taken it too far…

 

I realized that I had actually made a bit of a prat of myself. It wasn’t THAT bad, for God’s sake! What was wrong with me? And who was to say that the good thing wouldn’t come back, after all?

 

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