An interesting look inside the mind of someone with a broken heart and minimum wage job. A friend said he wrote these at a particularly insane moment in his life:
- One “crisis” after another, I imagine my world ending with each minor inconvenience or problem. A second of doubt can become a lifetime habit.
- Impulse is a funny friend. You fool yourself in thinking that bridge has burned, I am the driver in my decisions. But you quickly find yourself in the passenger seat once more. I probably shouldn’t have hit the bong at three in the morning.
- To learn is to unlearn. Break down old conceptions and assumptions. It’s not about finding out who shot the gun, but who or what loaded it.
- Waking up to dust filled lungs, coughing out solids that make me want to vomit. My brain is hazy from strange sleep, periodically waking up by unwanted urges and sounds.
- I couldn’t stop looking, you seemed wonderful. I remember you in the past, but it was not like tonight. You made me feel more at ease. Thanks for responding when I was talking and no one was paying attention. I was sad when you left and thought about you on the car ride home.
- Dish washing, bitch watching, dick scratching. One of these days things will be better, no longer scraping the botton of the barrel or shit off plates for eight dollars an hour. Breathing in poison with each batch of dishes being cleaned, eating off the plates and spoons that have touched thousands of mouths before mine has numbed my raging paranoia of human filth. Trying to stay away from these everyday dangers is going to fucking kill me. Sterilization is the enemy, immunization is the key. Get the body used to the toxic characteristics of the modern world instead of hiding from them. So bring it on you mishandling food distributors, you careless cooks, and naive employees, pile on the disease. Who am I going to respect more, the kid who eats off the floor or the one who complains about everything?
- For the first time, I’m too sad to jack off. My dick, my heart, my brain all want different things. I love being loved, but I couldn’t handle it anymore. The pressure was crushing me to a pulp where I was forced to stick through it, change it or quit. There’s no one worse than someone on the fence. Choose a decision, be honest, it’s a lose/lose situation anyway.
- I’m pulling up the anchor, cutting the safety nets and setting up camp at rock bottom. I can’t go back to that life, it was not my own. My happiness was dependent on making another happy. Movies and pop culture are ridiculously successful at placating the youth from revolting. Find a girl and make her happy, ignore your neighbors cries for help as our leaders fuck us deeper in our assholes. I told myself I don’t ever want to be happy, I can’t expect her to understand. Drunk with youth and idealism, I feel vulnerable yet powerful, my walk feels different and I already see in new shades.
- Sitting, the sun is shitting down my eye-sockets, I struggle to see the faces around me. Seven floors up, one year commitment made, some kid is going to have to deal with my shit. I’m in the middle of an existential road block, I may not be the ideal candidate in mentoring young malleable minds.
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