This is what we do to people when they don't fit the guidelines. The manual is meant
to be followed, every human is issued their own copy at birth along with their serial ID number
and starter batteries. Additional fees may apply. Check instructions for details.
We are just doing this to keep everything nice. Nice like how your grandmother's knick
knacks are perfectly placed on each shelf. All collecting dust at different rates. None moving
from their spots until the cat knocks them over. That's all they have to live for. They exist
only to be collected by old women and to be destroyed by the curious paw of a feline. How can
you be so fucking routine? Where's the glory of this destroyed being? Where is the additional
focus and character development?
A sad reality I cope with every day is that we're all walking around gawking at each
other, fucking like sick little rodents till another meteor comes and sends us back to the
fuck hole we birthed ourselves from. I think this is why I want to kill myself. What's worse
is my gender is nearly obligated to be the most cruel of our species. Although our own females
hunt each other and kill males if they don't succumb to their matriarchal strap ons. It disgusts me to think
that if I want to mate, reproduce and take a shot at love I have to deal with the assumption
that it's just how 'we' are. I am forced into a category right off the bat. Preordained Minister
of the obligatory Male gender. Males aren't the friendliest either. On a whole,
the human race isn't very desirable or logical or even a little bit civilized. Yes, we built grand
things taller than the sky itself. Magnificent structures
shooting up straight into the heavens. Our technology was advanced and our lives were very
easy. They say any thing alive is effected by it's environment either positively or negatively.
This is common. When there are so many living things together in one environment, they tend
to step on each other a bit. Humans are the species that completely stomped all over everything
else. Now that the planet is almost dead we sit in our comfort with our proud accomplishment
strung in a fine polished gold frame with accents, velvet lined with a crystal pane. Some thing
you spent your hard earned time on, because you had to do something to be given the things you'd
need to exchange and get that very frame that you hung such a beautiful fucking piece of
work up in.
"So, we're going to start with the basics. Positive things to kick this all off, okay?
What are you good at? Any hobbies? You look like the type of man with lots of hobbies."
"I suck at a lot of things, most of them important. There's no real telling when it will
all end so why really focus on things that fall under words that have implied meaning through
social conditioning."
"Life is like a box of chocolates but you're allergic to dairy. Christ Almighty,
how'd you end up the black sheep?"
People assume that I'm a sadistic asshole. I used to be bothered by it until I realized
I totally am. Everyone makes me sick and it would only take half of my ex girlfriends to tell you
that. Not saying that the other half wouldn't feel the same way, just saying only half are
honest enough to say it out loud. When I space out a remember that I exist and all that stuff
there are these shimmering memories that come back and remind me why I don't exist here mentally
almost all of the time.
"You're a real piece of work, you fucking know that?" She's slamming doors and throwing
things. I'm sitting in the living room of our one bedroom 5th floor studio apartment wondering-
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!" She pauses dramatically. Her effectiveness makes me sick. Out
of all the people on this fucked chunk of asteroid with moss on it, she had to be the only one.
"You don't even listen to me anymore. It's like I'm just fucking background imagery
with fucking elevator music coming out of my fucking mouth. DO I LOOK LIKE A SHITTY MOTEL
ROOM PAINTING TO YOU FUCKER?"
More slamming. She came in here just to say that to me and I still can't think of a half
witty response. She's not even being clever any more. It's not fun for her, it's all just stress.
There was a time when we were more than happy. The skies were a light blue with brilliant
clouds that fractured like kaleidoscopes with little diamonds in them. Her smile made my mouth
water with anticipation. It wasn't an awful lust either, although her body was young and her
features were nice. I had a whole hearted infatuation with this projected image of her. Hell,
I don't think I could tell you her favorite book. She's a writer and I don't even know what
piece of writing inspired her. I made a decent portion of fun when watching her favorite movie,
that inspired a lot of her ideals on life and such. It's not like these aren't important things,
they are surely very important. They are things that make up a human being's personality and
created guidelines for them in life. I should honor them if I really honor this person. But I
don't.
Her eyes are glimmering little spheres of amber encasing little black beetles. They make
my skin itch because when she cries they get big and glossy. It's not really hard to not feel
bad, because I don't really understand why she's so mad.
"Do you have anything you'd like to say? I mean this is kind of a thing that's happening,
so if you have input it's kind of the time to do that, right now, ya' know for the SAKE OF MY
FUCKING SANITY!"
Her face looks like it's been condensating. Like all the liquid from under her eyes just
formed above her skin. It's just the water pooling from her eyes on her make up I'm sure. I
want to tell her it looks really cool but this is definitely not the time for that. I'll keep it
in mind so I can tell her when she'd no longer mad at me. I still haven't answered her completely.
I keep stumbling out "I don't knows" and not too long ago I swore I heard myself say "we're
not in love anymore then." which caused her face to go pale and I felt her heart drop from all
those feet away. That was the moment she realized I am a loser. I'm the worst thing she ever
did in her life and she'd never get the time she wasted back. Wasted on trying to make me
husband material, or whatever. I should've told her off the bat that it wasn't ever going to be
like that. She was very much out of my league. Unlike guys I know that just serial date and
create chaotic little messes for themselves, I try to keep it clean. I chose her, and we were
a nice thing. She intimidated me and after a while that smile now makes my mouth awfully dry.
There was a time, when, it was all really nice.
VV..
There are ripe drops of dew on the plants on the balcony. I decided not to have them
inside anymore, the cigarette smoke will do something to them I don't want God to punish me
for. I suck down the carcinogenic breath of fresh air and lean over the wooden banister to look
down at the street walkers. People are crazy. With their frilly pink dog collars and their Adidas running sneakers. I live in the central part of a city where there's a lot of politics.
Tons of business and all that junk. I grew up here but this part of town was always scary when
I was a little. It was always busy. There were bums every where. It was alright though. When
I was a high schooler I'd get drunk with a couple of people I knew who were homeless. They'd
get the booze and I'd pay. Working young was the bees knees. At least then I actually found
pleasure in making money. Now I just feel like a people watching broke as fuck prostitute.
Thank you America.
"I have always wondered why people look at each other at all. It's almost like they're
infatuated with themselves to the point where they want to resemble literally every single
other human." Once again he's going on about some thing that just popped into his head and
confirms it's a sign of something relevant. This is totally what we should be talking about
right now. Probably not the fact that I'm not tolerating this anymore. This bullshit
spiritual shit got me off the first few months but damn, this guy knows how to beat a dead
horse.
His mouth is literally an asshole and shit just pours out of it. I recall his best
friend telling me that once. He also said I whined when I didn't get my way.
"I really don't understand but it's clear to me that I am not happy anymore." and the
conversation is over. The grand master excuse maker created the perfect excuse, now he can
excuse himself from the situation that makes him uncomfortable. You aren't allowed to confront
the Gods, but this is the one time no God-complex is gonna touch me the wrong way.
My smile is pure acid peeling my flesh away. "That's great. Looks like we covered all
the bases then!" I saw his lips curl into a smile. The kid was hopeless. My sarcasm was crisp
and sharp and the fucker didn't even acknowledge it. Or he pretended not to, because everyone
knows he's full of his phony mentality and cheap tattoos.
It's not hard to be single. It's just annoying. There's nothing fun about searching
for someone you can just watch television shows with in your underwear eating cold chinese
food at 4 in the afternoon. This was also the moment I realize I never had such a serious
relationship before and now it's over. My brain shuts off and I reboot the next day with
no recollection of the event, and, that is that my friend.
"It's really the idea of the human being that makes every one so hard in their shorts! Do
YOU of ALL people really believe THAT!? LORD have MERCY!"
