It’s all impulsivity with restrictions. There is no pleasure in searching for new places, there is no pleasure in buying things anymore, there is no pleasure in talking. I want to take my bags and drop off the surface of the earth. I drag myself to work.
You sit and talk to people that take you for granted. You don’t know anymore if it’s out of habit or because they really want to speak to you. Are you lonely again? You reply anyway because they’ll never say. You reply because if you don’t you’ll never talk to anyone again.
"Sometimes I forget how wonderful you are when you aren’t drowning in self loathing," he said. I looked at the whale.
“I rarely see you but when I do I remember why I love you so much.” I looked at the whale and placed my head in his shoulder. This museum is cheaper than therapy. “I don’t know why your brain created itself to be so sad, but when you aren’t you joke around, you dance so bad, you are so kind. Remember when you fed the homeless man and sat with him just talking about his life? And when you danced with a little girl who randomly came up to you? I think you forget how open you are. I think you forget how wonderful you are. We don’t always talk, but when we meet I see it.” I looked at the whale.
You walk down sordid and humid trains as you blank out about where you are going. You hope that someone pushes you in the track. In the background you hear Beethoven’s Fifth symphony. You hear a beggar sing One Republic’s Secrets. They fuse into a bone chilling melody that prick the hairs in your arms up and you lose yourself into notes. Your train is here.
"We learn"
“I know”
“A friend”
“Of course it’s still there.”
“I want to sleep for days”
“You’re going to bleed out if you do that”
“It’s easy for you to say that you’ve had thirteen relationships.”
“She isn’t my girlfriend we aren’t dating we are just fucking don’t say that again man.”
“If you think so monogamously, you won’t succeed.”
“This education system is a joke.” “Our generation wasn’t meant for unity.”
"I’ll give you six months. We won’t talk. And then in June I will message you and I will ask you if there was any change, which I doubt. And if you refuse I’ll wait because I want to think that I am the person you’ll come home to one day."
I read the text twice. I picked up the phone.
“Go fuck yourself.” It’s a mistake to forgive at times.
This was a complete waste of time. A complete waste of days. A complete waste of interactions a complete waste of feelings a complete waste of humanity. I've existed not lived. Chug down two beers and a Klonopin. Knock yourself out and forget. Chug three take two chug four take three let all your cells fall to sleep. You wake up the next morning.
I look at the ceiling. I picture the cabin from two Novembers ago, from when I could see the stars. I find comfort in knowing one day my energy would disperse to them. This was a waste of time, this was a waste of writing. I drag myself to work.
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