somehwere someone is waking up, rolling over, taking a look at the person next to them and thinking.... fuck. this person has been in my bed for ten years. this person has screwed up my coffee every morning for ten years. this person fucks the paperboy. this person drinks too much. this person. i chose this person. i think i just may kill her/him. after the blood is washed away from panelled walls and the body safely discarded, once the suicide note is written and the police have left cold footprints everywhere along with cigarette butts and breathy jokes on the tasteless art on the walls someone else will move into that place, with the person they chose. they will go to bed and kiss them goodnight. for the first ten and three quarter years. until the chills come and the anger rises.
something is wrong here.
[my short stories kind of suck]
maybe its just my lack of belief in the institution known as love/marriage. maybe its the conversation i just had with a friend about the failure of the chase. maybe it was the fact that im the bright eyed bushy tailed idiot standing in traffic when it comes to this kind of stuff. whatever it is, im feeling a little jet laggy at catching up to all the newfangled ideas and realizations that everyone but me is having. fuck people youve got it all worked into a nice little powerpoint presentation of "real life" matters. who the fuck knows. dont worry folks its just me again with stephanie-ism. its just. when all you find anywhere is wall after wall. when all you do is turn into the same bar that was right in front of you before. when all you feel is the eyes of strangers at your back and never really hear the words that mean the most. when sleepy mumblings kill you. when your friends tell you exactly "how you think" when everyone has you all figured the fuck out. what the hell is there left to do or say? living used to be just that. my kingdom for some late seventies revolutionary thinking here. gold pieces for someone who hasnt been scorned or turned to ash. it baffles me when people pass things off as "just what they thought would happen". im forever confused with humans.
the things that come to you when the time clicks over to 2:47 am.
and here i am.
where else would i be?
i could think of many things to say here. some funny. some sad. some romantic. i have several ideas waiting to be shot down on what i want to be doing right now.
not finish that
stop feeling like this.
take everyones word. but fuck that. it wouldnt be very fun now would it.
just let them have their power point essay.
i was always more for swiping on paint or pinning seams. never one for business or striped suits.
whenever i get here, in the lovely land of stephanie- thought whore/senseless ranter the little things have everything.
i find myself thinking of the anger i saw today. how confused and misplaced my own became. i could never understand it when someone gets angry over the want of the other to offer care. but then again hello miss naive 2007 here. with my compassion and lusts, romance and anime eyes. harumph. heres me trying to play concerned friend but losing the oscar to someone with bigger tits and a straighter sense of humor. maybe i need to open my mouth for other things. may get me stronger liqour and a different more beneficial kind of respect. fuck that. what the hell ami supposed to do? if everyone could write it up when a freindship starts and put it in black and white i would be fucking thrilled. that way i wont be getting the snap when i ask things, wont get the door slammings and the sighs, that way i wont have to be the fucking asshole in my blog later on that night, and that fucking way i wont have to be so goddamn frustrated. hey. im just fucking saying.
what a night.
at least today started off very nice. if it wasnt for that i may have been a little bitter. hah.