I got a job, yay
I don't want to live alone for the rest of my life. When you get down to the thick of it, I've got no one and nothing to invest in. Sometimes, I want to destroy everything, make the biggest mistake I could possibly make. Then I could say I had a reason to feel so miserable all the time. And a reason for being alone. Something besides being afraid and being too mediocre. I want to be that one thing in the picture that you have to take a second look at. Maybe I am. But I blend back in again. You shake your head and remind yourself to get more sleep tonight.
I want new feelings. Something to justify writing so much about. I'm so apathetic about this sadness now. It's so matter-of-fact. Sorry my friends, I'm so sick of my own loneliness I just don't care anymore when you're upset, so inconsolable. Is that the same reason you never cared about me, either? I feel better about it, I understand it, I guess. Yeah, that's ok, you wanted to push me away eventually.
Workworkwork, earn money, forget. Workworkwork, busy busy busy.
Maybe I'm afraid to change because nothing will change with me. I'll be exactly the same in a different body. Some funny way to cope with it.
I had a dream last night. I broke down in front of you like I've always wanted to. I shattered into a thousand pieces, completely at your mercy. I asked you why we don't talk anymore, why we never do anything together anymore. I asked you why things are so different. And for some reason, I was actually somewhat pleased when you didn't comfort me, when you didn't say anything at all. Like you didn't know I was there at all. Why was I so relieved? Why was I happy you let me down?
I'm waiting for these chemicals to wear off.
Driving home from Rowlett on the 66 bridge, I could see the smoke from a fire. I like fires. I like the dark black, billowing clouds of smoke, constantly moving. The scene is 2D: rich, opaque grays and blacks and whites on canvas. Disaster illuminates the sky with life. I wonder slightly if this will effect the pollution level today. You're not supposed to burn things on an orange level day.
I'm feeling heroic today, I'm driving right past my street and following the fire's beacon, the smoke. I'm considering becoming a firefighter. No, a destruction manager. What are they really called? Those planned demolitions. That's it. A demolition manager.
But I don't like physics much.
In my car, I drive faster and the road feels smoother and the ride is calm in the midst of this disaster. I get highs off calamity. I get happy. I'm getting an aerial view, driving round, following the beacon. I'm considering life as a helicopter pilot.
But I'm afraid of flying.
Maybe a storm chaser.
But I don't like meteorology.
Closer and closer, wondering if I'll get the chance to play the good citizen. The fire is my precious secret for all the world to see. Inconspicuous and ubiquitious. I'm going to be the one to show it to them.
But I'm too late. I'm trapped at the 4-way stop and flashing lights and wailing sirens pass by with importance, dutiful. My thrill of horror subsides.
I can't play the hero.
I'm not that proactive.
