Repairmen are on their way to The House on the Hill, but it’s difficult to get good help at such a late hour.
So what happens when the blogger breaks? And why does he seem to break so often?
I’m not good with technology, Modern Philosophers, but I do know that the blogger isn’t exactly shiny and new, so parts have a tendency to wear out more quickly than they did back in the day.
While the mind on this model is state of the art, it does have a system flaw that has never been debugged. It turns out that an overactive mind, that never shuts down to reboot or simply rest, can drain the rest of the system and increase chances of malfunction.
Of course, the blogger’s heart, which many believe outranks the mind for overall system control, has always been defective. It’s a genetics issue, I’m afraid.
The blogger’s mother died of heart problems when he was only three, and the one trait he clearly inherited from her was a broken heart.
Walls have been built to better protect that glaring soft spot, but they were apparently designed from the same plans used to construct both Death Stars and Starkiller Base.
As smart as I like to think I am, I never learn from my mistakes. So rather than tying to figure out how to stop making them, I’d rather put in the time coming up with a better way to recover more quickly.
I have a tendency to wallow when I’m broken. I play the role of the martyr who doesn’t understand why the world is against me.
There’s a very good chance that I’m diametrically opposed to being happy. I’m forever waiting for the other shoe to drop, so even when everything is going fine, I’m suspicious that it’s all a mirage and reality will inevitably crash the party and put me back in my place.
Perhaps this is just my broken mind talking, but it seems like the more comfortable I get in a situation, the more likely I am to destroy it by being myself. When something is new, I have this strong suspicion that I become another version of myself. I am aware of how I have ruined situations in the past, and while I am the first to admit that I never learn from my mistakes, I do make a gallant attempt not to repeat them.
However, once everything seems right, I let down my guard, allow myself to be happy, and can see my future changing. As if it were Marty McFly’s photo from Back to the Future, I smile at the image changing from me as a lonely, broken, old shell of a man to a happy man surrounded by so much love.
When I feel safe and secure in a situation, I just be myself again, and that’s when it all goes to hell.
I don’t actually notice it happening. There just comes a point when I allow myself to believe that I’ve actually found true happiness, and somehow, I end up losing whatever it is that has allowed me to think that all is well in my world.
And so I retreat into my reclusive bunker, work on the repairs, and try to build up the courage to put myself back in a situation that always seems to end with my being battered, bruised, and leaking tears.
To be honest, I’d give anything to never have to deal with being broken again. I truly believed that I had found my nirvana this time. Yet here I am. Broken.
When I’m not broken, I’m quite fun to follow on Pinterest…