#215

i've tried about everything just to feel something for a single moment. everything's so fast now, and in your face. we're supposed to buy buy buy, because hell, what else are we going to do with our lives? can't be uncomfortable. or inconvenienced. we socialize behind our computers, at best, more likely a phone. can't stand to feel texture under our fingers, get a papercut. who gets a papercut anymore? and if we do, we're gonna sue Mead, dammit.
all the time i spent chasing new highs- money, skydiving, fast cars, the women (can't remember the details of a single one) didn't do a thing for me. just left me here with a whiskey voice, smoker's lungs and a bad back. i never offered anyone any real kindness or hope. never did anything for anybody but myself. and for all the moments i spent enjoying the moment, i could have put them all together and had something left over. a soul, maybe.

#214

the digital clock read-out was broken, but the still-blackened windows and frosted grass told me what i already knew. for a moment i cursed myself for forgetting my staff key, then found the door to the commons area already open.
he didn't look surprised to see me, and he pointed a rough hand towards the tea kettle. still hot.
i breathed in cinnamon and cardamom, faint ginger root. "couldn't sleep?" and it was more of an explanation than a question. immediately i knew it wasn't needed. crossing my legs in the chair, i pulled a worn blanket around my shoulders.
cupping a brown clay teacup with both hands, he opened his eyes to meet my gaze. i felt suddenly comforted, less awkward, simplistic.

"even the night time is beautiful. we mustn't always sleep through it."
the words soaked into the walls, like lacquer into weathered wood.

#213

henry rollins said that if you hate"the man" or your parents, revenge was in becoming better. earn more, he said. live longer. be more educated.

vengeful plan of action:
there's a Ph.D. on my wall. check.
their time's ticking down and i'm healthier than ever. check.
my bank statement shows another six figures every year.

ah, i feel so fulfilled! i have beaten them! squashed the man!

but, just in case, there's always fire ants.

#212

oh, right, so i'm supposed to thank you for the flowers even though i never asked for them. i never said i was grateful.
beet-red, open-mouthed, wild-eyed. it's not that becoming. guess i wasn't supposed to tell you that. especially during an argument.
is it still an argument if it's one-sided?
pieces of your indignant tirade hit me. something about sacrifice. something about caring or not caring.
my stomach hurts. i really shouldn't have eaten that burger for lunch and i say so.
you look at me in disbelief.
you're saying something about being the best boyfriend in the world. i blink once. guess life's not fair, huh?