August's Thoughts

I think a lot of things and I hate writing them down and I hate sharing my thoughts so I'm doing all of that.

[late-night-august]

Who?

My late nights are gone. My shift starts at 6. My eyes close at 11 and yours pass me by. I haven't seen you in weeks? months if you count them. You said you'd never see me again but I didn't really believe you. I see you at work, when my shift starts at 2. Not my early job, the other one. No, not the awful one either, the other one. Yeah that's the one, did you forget I was there? You can't forget I was there. You'd like to but you can't. I don't know when things changed, but I think I had nothing to do with it. It stings and makes me bitter, but I kind of like it. If you refuse to look at me with anything but sunglasses, then at least I'm glad that you're scared of the dark.

I miss the dark, but it's better that it's gone. I miss you, but I'm better when you're gone. It's like, 3 pm in July. Until then, for forever.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Room

The apartment is cold and silent and I’m trying to write an essay but I just can’t squeeze it out.

I’m thinking of apartments, of houses, of moving, of furniture, of cooking, of cleaning. It’s scaring me shitless. I didn’t think this was something I was ever meant to do. It feels like a sitcom who’s story ended 3 seasons ago, but the writers couldn’t let it go and kept milking it past what it’s worth. I lost the plot ages ago; everything I dream of feels like fanfiction by someone who could right a much better, unrealistic ending for a better, unrealistic show. 

Instead of a cold desk, I am curled up on the couch with a blanket. Instead of overdue assignments, I have a healthy prescription and my room is clean. It reminds me of my dream, the one I had last night. You rested your chin on my head and wrapped your arms around me – extremely out of character, even for a fantasy. But I felt warm and couldn’t stop smiling, and I could feel and hear your awkward, high-pitched giggles surrounding me. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I woke up in my bed alone, with you across the hall, but I went back to sleep. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

I am still thinking, but this time of you. I am still thinking of apartments, of houses, of moving, of furniture, of cooking, of cleaning, and of you. I am still scared shitless, but it’s different. I won’t see you today; your door is closed. My essay won’t get any later. I wonder what you’re thinking of. I think I’ll go back to sleep.

It's a comparatively earlier night in April. Until then, for forever

Late Night August.

[late-night-august]

Mouser? I hardly know her

I killed a mouse. With a human(e) trap. But it's dead nonetheless. It had to happen, and it wasn't fair. My mother is scared of mice, and she would've been much less kind. Surely the mouse didn't mind; it ran into the trap only minutes after it was placed. Surely you wouldn't blame it. The mouse does the same thing every day. It runs circles behind the dishwasher, thinking of food it cannot have. It darts in and out, growing braver and braver and comfortable and comfortable. It can finally dart too far, to the food it cannot have. I'm applying for jobs and leaving home again. There is only one mouse in my new apartment. It gets headaches every day and craves a life it cannot have. I don't think heaven is real, but surely there's some peanut butter for mice.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Famous Last Words

I wonder what will be the last thing. The last thing I ever write, think, feel, or you'll ever say to me. The last time we yell at each other, I wake up with a headache, I oversleep, I undersleep, I'll feel sick, I'll screw something up and regret it, I'll think about last time where I thought about this time because I thought it would be the last time. I don't know.

happy birthday. happy new year. the past 4 months are a blur.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

You can lie too ya know

I could never be alone. There’s an intro to psych textbook with a table full of contents, listing: Abandonment, Loneliness, Isolation, Deprivation, Drug Use, Rejection, Fear and Hate. They’re words on a page and words in a bank and words in a sob story for some other guy. Can’t you see? I’m surrounded by all these people. They all sit 6 feet away and sling words over my head. They hang out with me so much that they’d rather hang out with anyone else. They love me so much that they pretend I’m not there. They think I’m so smart that it’s not even worth explaining. They think I’m so cool that I don’t even want to know. I’m just so lovable that they pretend not to notice that I’m everything to hate. I’m just so sweet that someone else will love me, it doesn’t have to be them. I’m just so funny that I’ll find other people, they don’t have to stick around. They don’t have to do anything. Especially anything they don’t want to. Everyone wants to be a back up plan cause I have so many plan As. Except my Plan As were your Plan Ds. And no one wants to be someone else’s plan Bs. So now there’s no plan left but Plan C, and I got an A on an essay all about that plan.

It's some night in November. Until then 4 forever

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

SHUT UP!!!1!

you're next to me, you're in my mind, you're through the wall, your hand touched mine, there's drywall separating beds and turning red averting heads. Horrendous teenage fantasy where no one else would want to be.

you're staring staring staring and you're quiet quiet quiet like you're daring daring daring me to try it try it try it, what do you want what do you want what do you want what do you want with locking eyes I swear to god I don't know what you want

get out get out get out and stay right here ^^

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Conditioner, 30% off

Do you like me? Do you like what I've become? or do you hate me? do you resent me for what I meant to you? My birth was your death. If you had to do it all again you said you would. But wouldn't it come with conditions? Wouldn't you want someone else? Wouldn't you do things a little differently? Wouldn't you avoid everything I am? Wouldn't you the prospect of me? Would you avoid what makes me me or would you avoid the mistake that made me? Does that even count as doing it all again? Wouldn't you want to start fresh and leave your mistakes in the future? That tense doesn't really make sense, so what do you want to do now? Do you want to leave em hanging or make em worse or fix em? Maybe if you ignore it long enough the problem will fix itself. That would be good I think. Bloody hands that clean themselves. You should patent it and use the money for a time machine.

Hey look at that it's a late night in August.

~ Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

[Redacted Musician Name]

I think it's been a very long time since I've felt something strong and powerful and I think I've gotten used to it. I think anger and decay and festering wounds seem like such attractive options to me because at least it's something. I don't exactly know when it happened but ever since it has, all the joy seems fleeting and the lack seems half assed. I'm always just phoning it in and phoning around. I used to say I'd die by fire, trial by fire. (fuckin liar). Someone cover me in gasoline. It's always other people, and god knows I won't get there myself. I'd take Hell over purgatory cause at least there's something there.

A year ago, and the scribbles still read true.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Talk Talk

He sure does talk a lot for someone that doesn't talk. Yeah that guy. Hey, you. You sure do talk a lot for someone that doesn't talk. Battery's dead with no replacements but it's like you find a charger for me. And a couple other people too. But every time for me. I just talk and talk and talk and every time you listen and listen and listen.

You've been talking a lot more now. You talk on the couch, on the floor, at my job, at parties, late at night, early morning, in my phone, across the room, right next to me, in my head. I wish you wouldn't. I like hearing words, from your head to mine.

It's 2 am in April. Until then, for forever,

Late Night August

[late-night-august]

Don't open til yesterday

I found some old letters I wrote you, they were the most heartfelt, lemon candy words I ever meant and never send. I wrote them two months ago with light in my eyes and beer on my breath and your voice in my ears and your hand on my back. Before I turned the lights off and drank some water and went to sleep. Before I opened the curtains, took a painkiller and finally got out of bed. The words still feel true; sweet and stupid is still kinda sweet. But they're diluted and bitter. I think I'll hold on to them for a while, and if you see a stray envelope addressed to you from three months ago - send them his way, no peeking.

Until then.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Night Watch

I picked up the night shift in a cave, and it's gross and cold and humid and I did it to myself. I already swept up the muddy footprints of the mice that just left, and I know I'll never see them again. They didn't seem to mind. There's a bug on my shoulder but there's no one there to eat it. The cat that used to keep me company is now bored and indifferent. He's off to chase the mice that are never coming back. I wonder if he thought of me. I used to think you stayed for just for me, but so much for that.

There's more bugs on my shoulders; little white maggots crawling down my shirt and into my nose and eating me alive. Just an hour left on shift and I can leave the cave for light and sound and someone to eat these fuckin bugs. Maybe if I go find the mice, the cat will remember how much he liked sitting by my feet. "We'll keep you company" the bugs sing in my ears. I'm sure they will. I guess I'd rather someone eat my heart out than do nothing at all. I'm the only one that gets to be cold, dead, and motionless around here.

The moon clicks forward slowly. I've just realized I don't even know where the mice have gone, how would I even find them in the first place? The little white maggots have grown into little white flies. They've had their share of my liver lungs and brain. My shift is over and I've done my job, but there really isn't anything else for me to do. Anywhere else for me to go. The only things I wanted are long gone, filled with other bugs that aren't tainted with my taste. The swarm hovers in my ear before leaving. We need you to pick up 4 more months of overtime.

It's almost midnight in May. I guess I'll be here til September.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

I won't call her a bitch

I don't want to speak to her. I don't want to speak about her. (I do). I don't want her to speak to me about other people. I don't want her to speak to me about me to my face with her eyes closed. From the side of her mouth and up her own ass. At the very least I'm owed the human right to be annoyed. I've been guilt and tripped and conned and descended. But god forbid I get annoyed. Forbid I ask for anything, forbid I disagree, forbid I speak too kind, forbid I speak too rough. You take the grace and never give and fall and fall and fall. I know I'm a sinner in her eyes, a bastard in her mind, a guilty conscience in her ears, and a friend in her voice.

I don't want to speak to you. See you tomorrow.

Ln(a)

[late-night-august]

Typo

I'm an extra puzzle piece and I'm incorrectly shaped. I'm not supposed to be here and the world never wanted me. I'm a parasite, a living thing, an infestation. I'm trying to survive and you all don't really want me. I'm the typo in the messages you like to send me late. I'm making things confusing and you never really wanted me. I'm a bullet wound, infected scab and heartache all at once. I'm making this so hard and I never really wanted me.

Until then, hope not forever,

Late Night Augsut

[late-night-august]

Amaretto

Your breath is warm and I feel it on my mouth and nose and face. It's sweet and fruity, I don't know what you drank. Apparently enough, because we've been talking for 3 hours. I was thinking you just liked to talk to me (my bad, don't worry about it). You always leave me with so many questions, way more than you ever do answers. You don't like to talk much. Except for tonight, and every other night. I told you way too much about my personal life. You've told me so much about yours. You've poured your heart and soul into everything you make and you're offering it to me on a paper plate. And I really don't know why. Your breath hits my face again and I remember. (Talked too long and thought the bartender liked me.) You drank the same thing I did, it tasted like Dr. Pepper.

This is getting embarrassing. It's a 6 am in April, but until then for forever,

Late Night August

[late-night-august]

I think I'd be a better friend if I never saw you again. Pack up and put away "are you okay, I'm sorry that happened, I'm sorry I said that, just stay over there, I'm sure it'll be fine, it'll all work out, I don't know what to say, I'm sorry you feel that way, you're really pissing me off" and every other stumbled letter. Let the distance in our lives overtake the distance in our words. The pallet of things you hate paints a picture of my face, and you say it to my face with your eyes closed. The list of things I love spell your name, but sometimes I wonder if I know how to read. I think I'm good at spelling, but my school never had a spelling bee. I think, if I wasn't so up my own ass, I could probably be what you want me to be. I don't think that's really true.

I think we should just pretend this never happened.

Until then, for forever,

Late Night August

[late-night-august]

Late night thoughts

I never really knew how to journal, or how to talk to people, so why not do a bit of both. I was getting bored anyway.

Stream of consciousness, streaming consciousness. If their shit's so good then what's up with mine. Do you want it out there for the sake of being out there? Probably not. Do you want people to listen? I don't really know. Do you want everyone to look and observe? Maybe, but I hope not. Odd little spectacle of cringey self-importance. I know I want to do something with words that bounce around like screensavers in my head. I like doing something with words, just like I like doing things with my hands. I do that just because. What else would I do with them.

It's a midnight in March, but until then, for forever,

Late Night August