A rush of blood, to no where

im·pulse ~ noun

• An impelling force; an impetus.
• The motion produced by such a force.
• A sudden wish or urge that prompts an unpremeditated act or feeling; an abrupt inclination
• A motivating force or tendency

Earlier this week, I decided that my world was getting way to fuzzy and grey. And because I cannot handle areas of uncertainty, and because I am too proud to talk about them out-loud, I took the easy way out. It was an impulsive move. For in the ensuing silence and self-imposed isolation, the questions only ring louder.

At any given moment, the brain has 14 billion neurons firing at a speed of 450 miles per hour. We do not have any control over most of them. The body naturally follows it's impulses, which is part of what makes it so hard for us to control ours. Of course, sometimes we have impulses we would rather not control, that we later wish we had.

This also had to be this same week that the sky is falling down for the one who did not see it coming, nor deserved bearing the brunt of a Brash Barbsie episode. I think the one night when he needed me to be there for him, as his sounding board, I decided to put my isolation plan into action, and head off to bed.

Judging from his stance today, I suppose he took it as a signal that I was really into going into my spirals of dark and twisted-ness. And that all he's written in this last week has resulted in nothing.

So yes.. Once again, damage is done where damage was not due. At least, not when the haze has cleared up and all.

The body is a slave to its impulses. But the thing that makes us human - is what we can control. After the storm, after the rush, after the heat of the moment has passed, we can cool off and clean up the messes we've made.

So yeah.. I suppose I had it coming. And now faced with the opportunity of a quiet weekend, being caged out, I guess I just have to learn..

We can try to let go of what was. But then again..

Some things and some people are just not worth giving in to the impulse.