meatus.

Inside, he was in a world of hurt. He saw black flashes before his eyes. He saw himself falling through the air. He knew what he was turning into.  He was turning into the worst kind of human on the planet: an old bitter dork. Saw himself at the Game Room, picking through the miniatures for the rest of his life. He didn’t want this future but he couldn’t see how it could be avoided, couldn’t figure his way out of it.

I think the word is crisis but every time I open my eyes all I see is meltdown. This was when he threw students out of his class for breathing, when he would tell his mother to fuck off, when he couldn’t write a word, when he went into his tio’s closet and put the Colt up to his temple, when he thought about the train bridge. The days he lay in bed and thought about his mother fixing him his plate the rest of his life, what he’d heard her say to his tio the other day when she thought he wasn’t around, I don’t care, I’m happy he’s here.

Land of the Lost. 1992-1995.
The Dark Age. Page 268.