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I'm a fool.
I'm never quite enough, one way or the other. I'm never enough of a prick.. Or good guy.. Or old enough.. Young enough.. Smart enough.. Stupid enough.
I'll tell you though, should things go horribly wrong, either you'll hear a loud "pop" and nothing more, or you'll see my final spiral. One way or another.
One night I realized if I killed two men I could have a girl that would cheat on me.
Last night I realized that they're all predators posing as house pets.
Don't give me that. You can't come here and at least expect a little misogyny.
Withdrawls are terrible beyond all rational thought. FYI for you junkies out there: Smoke some pot. It helps. A lot.
There are just never enough opiates.
"The Work"
Love. Let me tell you something of 'love'. It is a word much over used. It is an ideal. It is a vile and terrible virus that infects and burns from the inside out.
Love. Pah. I spit at thee. Show me this animal, 'love', in it's cage; in it's stinking filth rollling around and the wretched, nonsensical foolishness that it makes and I'll believe it as long as I can feel my fingers wrap around it's slippery throat and take away it's last breath.
I can't abide it's bitter taste.
"No, it wasn't ok"
- Tracy Bonham, "Sharks Don't Sleep"
An aparatus? You're shitting me. My faith in humanity may be at an all time low.
One look at you is never enough. One moment with you is never enough.
Fuck.
"Saying that you must leave quickly to go take a shit ends just about any conversation/situation/confrontation imaginable. People, as a rule, want to avoid 'trouser chili' as much as possible."
"Remember these magic words: "I gotta go take a shit.""
- Me, "Polite Collapse"
Excuse me while I go vomit out of sheer disappointment.
That's the worst thing too, really. Being disappointed in someone. It's one thing to be mad at somebody. It's another thing to hate someone. But to be disappointed in someone that you (ugh) 'love' is probably about one of the worst things there is.
Look at me on my fucking high horse. Don't worry, I'll probably go Christopher Reaves on this shit before too long. I'm good at fucking up a run.
I'm just full of shit tonight, aren't I?
One of my most treasured pictures from the internet is a picture of a womans' rally. You know, the kind with carefully crafted phrases on poster board like, "Sexism is a disease" and the like. Anyway, in this photo a man is standing in the background with a neon poster board scrawled with the most hilarious phrase:
If I've got to be the one to tell you that you need to calm down, slow down, or that you're fucking crazy... You should just give up.
Really. I'm not ok. I know these things.
"The Great Love Heist of 2004"
Perhaps my idea of romance is somewhat lacking.
So this wonderful girl is telling the other girls at work(and me, I'm sitting at the table too) that a certain cologne is her favorite and that it drives her crazy.
I decided that I will have it on the next time I see her.
I'm having money troubles almost constantly so, while browsing the store for the cologne and toilet paper, I decided the logical thing to do was steal it.
I got out with that twenty-dollar-a-bottle shit, security device and all. Very little problem, to make a long story short.
Well, I thought it was a romantic thing to do.
You do what you must to get by.
They always love the douch bags. A guy like me is never enough, I guess. Good for her though, I suppose. She's faithfull. I've almost decided to leave well enough alone.
Balancing myself on the toilet while getting my feet wet on the awful floor, I find myself thinking about hitting myself in the hand with a hammer. It's at this point that I'm pretty sure I may have a problem.
No amount of sleep seems to be enough anymore.
