He didn’t have a face, but I knew he was my type. He was sweet and had a great smile. We playfully chased each other around, I grabbed him and fell into a pile of orange leaves, we laughed. I looked into his eyes, and kissed him. I was in love.
And the more I figured it was a dream, I shut my eyes tighter, hoping that maybe in some fantasy-dream-come-true-movie-magic scenario he would be next to me when I opened them.
He was gone. Fuck.
Twisted - you are. Twisted - you make me. I can’t do anything, I’m helplessly struggling to smile. I drag my feet towards you, I dread every word said - by you, by me. I keep telling myself to avoid negative energy. But alas.
It’s a power struggle, it’s a tightrope, it’s a rope - a noose. I’m struggling to keep my sanity. I’m forcing my body not to perform binary fission and grow two faces, but I think I already have three. I hate it. I hate you. And everything you stand for. And sit. And squat. And half-squat.
I hate myself.
The doors have been blown open. The bread crumb trail has been eaten by the birds, there’s no turning back. Things can never go back - back to sincere, honest smiles, and positivity. Or can they?
I’ll have to be the much bigger person. A whale.
So correct me if I’m wrong but if two jocks are just fucking around “acting gay”, it’s completely hilarious and acceptable, but if two guys who are sincerely in love and want to hold hands in public, it’s not? Wow, I applaud your narrow-minded brain; your simplistic view of the world is so very amusing.
Erm, newsflash, I don’t think your Neanderthal genes are very safe for the world, we’re supposed to be progressing - not regressing. So please don’t whip your dick out and spray your foul sperm around. Besides, you know what? I’ll probably be adopting (and doing a much better job raising) the kid you abandoned cause you knocked up some poor girl at some back alley bathroom of a club.
So yes, you can jolly well take my very gay middle finger at the end of my very broken wrist and shove it right up your undeveloped ass.
Everything’s so pointless. Where is this going? I don’t know. That’s the point - pointlessness. What is the meaning of all this? Am I gaining anything? Not much. Nothing long-term. Nothing substantial. Nothing solid. Nothing firm. Nothing.
Remember this feeling. I hope I do tomorrow. Let me sink into deep thought and emotional confusion. Cause I think it’ll help me more than these circles I’m running in. I want this to end. But then again. I don’t want to start anything. So.
Meaningless sweat, time wasted, effort, just for that one moment - of ecstasy. I don’t get it. Why do I go back? Why do I keep going back? What’s the fun in running into walls just to smash into them and end up with a bruise, only to do it again the next day, and the following, and the following?
My head hurts.
Maybe it’s the poppers.
So in a weekend, I lost my phone, reached my personal limit for alcohol in a bad way, had a disaster date, and worried about the work waiting for me in the office tomorrow the entire way through. Nice. I feel almost disgusted with myself. It’s like I need to take a shower with boiling water and scream my lungs out.
But, glad to say I’m done moping around in self pity. I can’t possibly be more depressed than I was this morning. And afternoon. And evening. I’m done. No more.
Pick your shit up gurl, and walk that fucking runway. Work.
My hands are squeaky clean. I like this. I’ve washed it all off. Everything. It’s like life’s back to normal again. No more looking back, no more wondering, no more holding back. I’m walking again. And I feel almost stupid to stop living because of a tiny bump in the road. It’s water under the bridge now, flowing, moving, gone. I’m fluid again. Water. Evaporating. Air. Flying. Free. Love it.
Or maybe cause I have other things to move on to - time to get my hands dirty again.
Why to I even listen when I don’t have to? Cause I care? Nope, couldn’t care less. Then why? Cause I have to. Responsibility? Perhaps. Or just pure hatred? Perhaps so as well.
God, Karen, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
This is stupid. I can’t possibly think that just because of that.
What?! No, this is.
Ok actually I am. Am I?
I think I could be. No, it’s weakness, I will not be weak, I’m not a push over
I think.
Oh fuck this, does it matter that much?
Fuck this weak bullshit.
If it’s anything, it’s courage.
But if that is so, doesn’t it seem a little desperate?
I’m just saying.
Sigh.
World War III goes on in my head.
It was like a rude punch in the face after I thought that was the last of it. My subconscious mind is such a fucktard. The truth is, I wished for that, but it never came, I had too high an expectation, I tried to climb up the ladder but fell instead.
Now I’m stuck here, wondering. My heart still in knots. My mind still in the impossible.
If you need a place to run to, for better or worse, I got you.
I don’t. I can’t even. What did I. Did it just. What on earth just. Why? Could I. I wasn’t even. I wish. If only. Could anything have. It would right? I mean. If only I. But. But. I guess it’s. So.
Cut. Fades to black.
Come play with me, I’m here to fulfil all your deepest pleasures. I’m the plastic doll of your dreams. Move me however you want, throw me on the floor, throw me on the bed, lift my arms, lift my legs. Use me, abuse me. I will do anything to make you feel good.
Just don’t talk to me. Don’t show me any form of emotion - don’t even try. I am incapable of expressing any form of empathy towards you. I’m cold, hard, plastic. I can’t understand you, I can’t hear you, I will not. So when you’re done, just leave, don’t bother.
I’m just a toy to you. And a toy I will be.
Yet another breeder.
Sigh, I’m wondering if fate will have anything planned in the near near future, cause as of now, this game I’m playing with myself is getting pretty sad. It’s okay if I go by day by day and be completely oblivious to it, but it’s moments like this, I wake up for a while and look myself in the eye, and realise the horror.
I’m forever waiting. Forever wondering, when it will be. Never? Perhaps.
I need to stop running these circles, this bitch has got to stop chasing her tail. I need to stop this sad optimism, and praying for the next best thing cause it’s never going to come.
But life’s so boring if I don’t create this false optimism… Okay, rest of this post: Void. I rest my case.
I’m getting an abrupt spasm every 20 seconds with this migraine. No sudden movements of my head or I’ll have to cringe and tolerate that sharp pain again. I can feel the impending pain coming. Hngg. There it goes again.
I feel like taking a power drill to the head. Let the pain drain out of my thumping skull. Or perhaps the tumour inside will crawl out and evolve into a human being. Oh god, save me. Hnng.
