Tuesday, November 6, 2012

The short short story of something not so short

This is the story about a man with expensive glasses and bare feet.
It starts with him waiting on a bridge; not shy yet shy; so sweet yet darkened;
waiting for me, you see.

The middle is all confused and muddled, heart-wrenching and too brittle to touch.

But the point is the end, just as the end is where all the points add up and connect.
Nothing matters but this: he holds me, and I hold onto him.


Monday, November 5, 2012

This is another post about the ridiculousness of the human race. I've done many of these, I think. But it's like an endless pit of inspiration. It really is.
Of course, it also ties together with WHY I'VE BEEN COMPLETELY FUCKING AWOL these past couple of....... forever.

I love you. I'm sorry.

Bill Burr, the comedian, said: "You know what's weird; anytime I think about killing myself, it's NEVER about anything big. It's always little things". 

Flashback to this morning when I was lying cheek-down on the floor, day-dreaming about either jumping from a tall building or shooting myself in the face, because of an email I got from the people who, apparently, cannot fix my phone.
I chose the shoot-myself-in-the-face option by the way, because of an inherent fear of falling. It's like a vertigo thing. Except way less swirly, and more panic-y.
But.... I don't own a gun, so...

Here's the thing. There are two types of: "I want to die". 
There's the type where you actually genuinely want to go kill yourself,
and then there's the type where you, exhaustedly, just want to give up on living, because of stupid everyday-things that won't matter in ten years' time.

There's a huge difference.

The first type has happened only once. I'm not kidding when I say that I left my house at around ten in the evening to walk into town (one hour away) and jump off a bridge. I texted my best friend to tell her this, and got the answer: "Ehm. Ok.."


.......... That still stings, by the way. Just.... Just, ouch.

Anyway, this isn't about that. This is about me wasting time with type number 2, because of financial issues. (Woopedidoo)
Basically, everything I own is breaking down, and I can't afford to fix all of it.
That is all.


I know that I easily fall into small depression-like states, and that this sometimes affects the people around me. I feel bad about that. I do.
I used to be much better at handling my emotions. Now a days, I'm more like a child than I ever was as a child. I still remember walking down the road with my father after a movie, stating that "this type of entertainment is important in order to distract people from their everyday, boring, lives" (Wise-ass).
I was so sure of what life was, as a 10-year-old, and yet didn't know the meaning of "stress", "worry" or "fear". I was such a happy little idiot.
And I still am.
I just forget that sometimes.

I forget. I do what I feel I need to do in order to numb myself down. I get worse. I go to bed, thinking it's all over. I wake up, and I remember again.
This is my cycle of unnecessary human behaviour.

At least I'm smart enough to know it's dumb.

If I ever get my laptop back,
I'll return.