Monday, February 15, 2010

Shitty wallpaper

I don't have any fascinating, positive stories to tell any of you. I mean when have I ever? I could tell you that tonight the delivery guy gave me free brownies, that I overcame my house binding anxiety, that I quit drugs yet again, that whiskey tastes nice at room temperature, that I found someone to co-sign the lease or that music is wonderful etc, etc, etc. But that isn't interesting and it's insignificant and if you're not ready for some more cop out whining you should press unsubscribe now.

I want to talk about loss and hatred and how much having no decent cigarettes is pissing me off.

For one, with loss, you think you've finally got a grasp on it, you think you've gotten an inch of acceptance. And then BAM, the dirt isn't gone, no, bam and you're back to square one and nothing makes sense and you can't even fathom, let alone accept what the shit has happened. The stuff we take for granted is amazing. It's a super cliche but it's so true, probably why it is so cliche, you seriously don't know what you have until it's gone.

Secondly, hate is ridiculous. The kind of hate where you just want to leap across the table and stab them 23 times in the throat but you don't, you smile and chit chat just because you want to make that moment of revenge all the more crippling and unexpected.

Third, I've been smoking my Dad's winfield blue tobacco for the past hour, it tastes horrific, but it's better than going without. I could buy my own, if I was 18 or at least looked it. If I want to kill my body with nice tasting tobacco I damn well should be allowed. Fuck you Kevin Rudd and all the rest of you pieces of shit up there in parliament, you fucks didn't even make this law, but seriously, fuck you.

1 comment:

  1. I am so glad that you are writing again.
    I can never say I've felt these things, or thought these things, but I do know when shit gets bad that these programmed canvases are the most comforting place in the world. It's like squeezing each part out, so bit by bit it leaves you.

    Many would say that a broken heart is the worst feeling in the world, but I disagree. It is certainly that act of missing something you once had that you can no longer. There are memories, but memories always make the nostalgia and hurt greater, so they are almost tangable in nature.

    What does anyone do when everything falls down around them, in a continuous spiral, and nothing is positive enough to make the negative go away? Break down. Cry their eyes out. Punch walls. Punch faces. Turn all the hurt into anger and hate, becase deep down, we'd all rather hurt someone then hurt ourselves.

    It just goes to show, there's always more to lose.

    In times like these, we must stay strong, stay upright even if the entire world falls away, because there's nothing else to do, nowhere to go but forward.

    All my love is with you.