Shoot me, torture me, interrogate me, fuck it I get paid right?
As I was eating my mac and cheese and watching the Simpsons.
No that wasn’t it. I think it was earlier today, when my inner voice kept screaming “you shouldn’t have opened that door”. I would rather not say why, but I just felt completely shitty. It was then I realized, I reached the end of the line. That this is it, that all I have gone through and seen equals to nothing. The only good I am for apparently is for fixing broken computers, and wings. I’m completely sick of it, and I just didn’t want to see tomorrow.
I swallowed some left over wellbutrin, and I did some cleaning and I left the apartment. I had to, I needed to. Even with what I have, it just seems no good and pointless. Yeah I have an ok apartment finally, but it’s empty. Yeah I have a great job, but I get sick of the “oh wows” and the explaining time and time again that I don’t know anymore about stuff coming out than they do.
One time I looked through a diary mom kept as I was growing up, in kindergarten apparently I was really cool with sharing. I’m sorry I failed that dumb as fuck 4 to 5 year old child in Mrs. Noto’s class. But anyway I guess what I’m trying to say is that life really does suck if you have no one to share it with.
It sucks even more if you really have no prospects or you can’t recognize them.
So, here I am walking around the village today with a chemically sedated black depression as I was looking for school supplies. As I was at the BN near Union Square, I was half looking for that Brunette that I was in love with so I can get another rejection notch on my belt. I was thinking about the stranger that would save me.
But I’m at the end of the line remember? So this stranger isn’t coming and if she was, one of us missed the train. I don’t want to commit suicide, so I was thinking of the ultimate suicidal job, something I can do and actually enjoy. Something that this lack of will to breathe would come in handy.
Enlist? nah War Correspondant. I want to be a war correspondant one day.
When I realized that I went home, and dreamily slept on the subway of getting shot down scribbling in a notebook in the middle of a bombed out city. It was the best nap I ever had.
