The way I see it everyone could use a good punch in the face every now and then. It’s repressing all of this aggression that creates the real monsters. People don’t get into violent movies because they’re peaceful little grass-eating bunny rabbits. Deep down, we’re all killers. We’re all animals.
If it was between you living and me, I could live off of your corpse for a week.
My head is vacant like a retard’s stare. There’s some girl in my bed. She is looking at me like she expects me to say something.
Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t know you.
I need a cigarette and a memory.
I never really had any fantasies outside of ones about relationships that actually work. I’ve had a lot of those fantasies. There are several women who will never speak to me again as a result of my overworked imagination.
Then there’s Audrey. She was everything I ever thought a woman could be, and I was disappointed just the same.
We are walking through the woods at night. It’s pitch black and we’re moving with our hands out, stumbling like two blind people.
I stop for a minute and listen to the world.
Are you there, she asks me
I’m right here.
Don’t leave me, she says.
I am standing at an airport watching her walk away, knowing it will be the last time I ever see her. I’m trying so hard to put this image in my mind so I won’t forget it like I do everything else. All of the things that really matter slip away and I’m left with trivial facts about cultural minutiae.
I wish I could cry for just once in my life, but I don’t feel like crying. I feel like beating someone up. I feel like ruining someone’s day. I feel like driving a car bomb into a mall.
I want to grab Audrey and say to her what she said to me in those woods, but I just watch her go.
She turns around and smiles before she is swallowed into a sea of people.
You want me to cook you breakfast, the stranger says. I make a good omelet.
There’s nothing in my fridge. Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t know you.
I’m not hungry, I say. Thanks. I have to leave for work soon.
It’s okay to lie when you don’t want to be the asshole you really are. The truth is I haven’t been to work in weeks. I don’t even know what day it is.
I watch this girl get dressed. She’s not beautiful, but she has beautiful eyes. She has small breasts and long legs. I can see why I brought her home. She looks a lot like Audrey. Every girl I like looks like Audrey.
I’m sure last night I was telling her everything she wanted to hear, but right now I just want her to leave so I can go back to sleep. I’ll say anything to fuck you, but don’t expect me to like you in the morning. Don’t expect to like me.
You’ll never be who I want you to be.
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2 comments:
Hi Smot. I ran into the "Chicken Soup" blog from JS and just found you here. Wow! Remember me? I'm the old "klgray"! How the hell are you? I run by and read you every once in a blue moom. I've found my new place here after about a 2 year hiatus from blogging. Well, "blogging" I call it now as I'm not into getting too personal on the internet anymore. But I'm having fun, as usual.
Good to see you.
Karen, yes I remember you and I'm sorry it took me this long to respond. I had no idea I'd gotten any comments here. I basically made this blog so a friend who couldn't access my JS page could read some of my stuff here. Good to see you.
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