Tag Archives: lonely

Reality Check

Bessy’s the best pet cow ever!
No, she’s not a pet…

Look! Goldie’s sleeping upside-down.
No, Goldie’s not sleeping.

She said I looked good.
No, she was just being nice.

Everyone laughed at my joke.
No, they were just laughing at you in general.

If I just had enough money.
No, if you just loved yourself first.

She’s the most beautiful girl ever.
No, you’re just drunk.

I want to be famous.
No, you’re just lonely.

I think she loves me.
No, she just said Hi.

I think I love her.
I think you’re crazy.

 

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Take Me

Where does wind come from?
And where does it go?
I’m not really sure that the wind even knows.

May I ask you a favor?
When the time is right,
Take me where the wind blows.

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“People like to fall for their own tricks.”

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Breathe

“Here’s good.” She said.

A man and his wife started driving off the highway because she wanted to see if they could go somewhere where there was no sound. They drive through a dusty plain until they can’t see the road, and then they get out of the car. No rush of cars, horns, alarms, bells. Nothing surrounds them except a single tree in the distance.

The car’s warm engine crackles and pops softly. She raises an eyebrow at him. He responds with a sigh and he leads her towards the distant tree. It’s hot, and it’s a long walk. He fans the both of them with a used road map. A little over half way the wife sees the tree clearly. A dryness has spread through its branches like a cancer. The husband turns to look back, seeing that his wife had stopped walking. For the briefest of moments they were alone.

“Here’s good.” She lies down on the ground, and he joins her. She rests her head on his chest, closing her eyes, imagining nothing, listening to the only sound in the world; his heartbeat. It was bigger than anything in that moment, it was the only thing she felt, and when she closed her eyes it was all she knew. If she so much as lifted her head, opened her eyes, it would be gone forever. Of course his heart would keep beating, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

Unaware she had been holding her breath, she finally relaxed, and let it go.

“Here’s good.” He echoed. “…Here’s good.” And he closed his eyes.

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“You don’t need to know what you’re looking for. You need to discover it.”

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ZOMG

I think as a culture we’re so fascinated and scared by zombies because besides not having a heartbeat, there’s not much difference between having a crappy 9-5 job and being a zombie. They’re like the embodiment of the worst version of ourselves. A shell of a human. Basically dead already, but still walking around and going through the motions like we need to keep pushing papers and sending emails because the survival of the species depends on whether or not those quarterly reports that no one reads were formatted correctly.

…I am Jack’s sense of humor.

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What’s on your mind?

Every living creature dies alone. That sort of thing.

That’s not always true. I’ve heard sometimes big groups of people, like in cults, come together and have mass suicides, like a big suicide party–oh and don’t forget about natural disasters. Lots of people die together in those.

Thanks. I feel way better now.

Well don’t drag your shit onto me. I’m feeling pretty good right now and I don’t want to deal with your existential crisis. I’ll deal with it when I get depressed on my own accord.

You could have just said that first. You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.

I was starting to feel bad, so I had to knock you down a few pegs, which made me feel better I gotta say.

Haven’t you heard of sharing the load to make it lighter?

Haven’t you heard about turds in punch bowls? I don’t want your shit in my mouth.

But we never talk about this kind of stuff. No one does.

And for a reason. People want to feel good. Yeah, we all know we’re all going to die, but we’d rather just distract ourselves from it than spend time thinking about it and dealing with it. Why do you think people are always on their phones doing dumb shit when they could have a quiet moment to reflect? Why do you think we distract ourselves from thought in general?

Yeah. I guess we’ve kind of gotten soft. No one wants to do the hard mental work to find true satisfaction; they just want to play fucking candy crush and feel happy for beating the next level or watch some fucking cats doing cute cat things.

Well yeah, that’s just the way it is, so deal with it.

I’m trying.

Well you’re sucking at it. Try harder.

But if I just distract myself it won’t actually change anything.

…I’ll give you some advice that my great grandpa gave me before he died, as long as you promise to shut up.

Ok. Sure.

When you feel like you are going to die — don’t die; and you will survive.

He said that?

Well, I’m translating, but that’s the gist.

Bullshit.

Well it’s what he said. Now shut the fuck up and eat some ice cream.

There’s no way he said that.

He was on the forefront of wisdom, what do you want me to say?

How about what he actually said?

But that is what he said.

I object! You expect me to believe this ill-conceived hearsay?

Why not? Everything is hearsay anyways. You wouldn’t even know how old you are if someone didn’t tell you. Everything can be true or false; it just matters if you believe it. You see, there’s a certain point in life when you realize that you’re not the judge. You don’t decide what happens, so you try to be the lawyer for a while, arguing about why it happens and all the time-consuming, convoluted questions that go along with that. But then you realize that you’re a crappy lawyer and are only confusing yourself, so you take another step back. Your real job is to be the jury, and decide what you want to believe. Because believing is the only choice we have, and the only decision worth giving a damn about. So don’t tell me you’re going to die, and don’t ask me why it will happen; just tell me what you’re going to do about it.

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Lonely Pencil Sharpener

Pencil sharpeners are whores. And you’re the pimp. We all know this. Even since a young age we would have dozens of pencils and only one pencil sharpener. You stick in pencil after pencil, red, blue, orange, pink, number 2, hard lead, soft lead — some don’t quite fit, but you cram them in anyways — it doesn’t matter to you. All that matters is the pencils keep getting sharpened until they go out into the rough world of paper, get dull again, and need to come back. Pencils come and go, but you use that same poor sharpener until it too, dulls and can no longer function, and you get a new one. It has seen so many pencils, but can’t seem to remember any of them. It’s all such a blur. This lonely pencil just wants one connection that will last, that’s all it asks. It just wants to feel special. In a perfect world you would have one pencil sharpener for every pencil you use, but this isn’t a perfect world. You line up the next pencil sharpener and make sure it is tight and firmly mounted on the wall. You add a drop of oil to prevent squeaking, turn a blind eye, and start lining up pencils again.

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Another day I have the chance

To embrace what I most long for.

But every time I don’t advance

I find teardrops on my keyboard.

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