here, bullet

the bullet in a loaded gun has potential energy. once fired, its energy is kinetic (from kinein 'to move'). when it impacts — a wall, a body — energy is exchanged. damage.

sometimes when i least expect it, a shot is fired into my brain. shattering glass, a gouged wall, blood. 'i was just reading a book,' i say to the reporter who interviews me for the six o'clock news. 'i had no idea this would happen.'

"Self-injury. It's a personality disorder. People cut themselves, burn themselves, things like that. Enough to hurt, but not enough to do real damage. So it probably wasn't a suicide attempt. You said she had psychiatric drugs in her bathroom?"

Her stash of pharmaceuticals, the kind prescribed for ADHD, OCD, depression, anxiety, even a couple of antipsychotics. [...]

"You didn't take advantage of her, Adam. You didn't know she was crazy until—"

"Until after I took advantage of her."

from the affinities by robert charles wilson, a moderately entertaining, though not unpredictable, science fiction novel. reading that, the top half of page 154, was the mental equivalent of running into a wall.

running into a wall as the bullet.

i'm stuck there. embedded. the metaphor is wrong. but i can't seem to go further. i can't even seem to go further than this.

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