He closed the door, put the bags on the floor, and took in the living room scene. He was alone again, and confirmed this by letting out a gasp of total defeat. He walked into the kitchen, and once again was defeated by loneliness. His feet dragged behind him as he walked towards the couch, dropping himself into its warm comfort and immediately began to mope.
Tears, sympathy, sadness
Tired, his eyes focued tenderly towards the reminders. They focused on Dinner with the family, they focused on decisions made regarding the two of them, they focused on long talks that ended in sex, they focused on how completely of an empty life he led. It was their life. Not his.
The pain and suffering of something that was never meant to last. Of an idea that lasted too long to actually turn into memory.
8.11.09
untitled 2
Subtle. I would call you subtle. I'd call you subtle because you did the subtle things right, when you did the rest of it wrong.
5.11.09
This is the end
You see, you have to hit bottom, and then you can get a visual perspective of ''up'' and plan accordingly. Especially in todays world of spontaneously well planned subrban lives, you can't really know yourself until you've destroyed yourself. So really, hitting bottom is like the Disney version of Jim Morrison's life, except this time he didn't overdose on barbiturates and heroin in a nasty as fuck restroom stall but instead went on to become a mentor and father of three.
First of all, it's dark. Pitch black dark. You can't see the bottom coming and it scares you even more, because you never stop falling. You extend your arms to claw at the walls, you flail your body open to catch some air under you but it doesn't matter because suddenly your 19 years too young and in the emergency room for an overdose of intoxicants.
You wake up, your arm is hurting from all the IV protrusions but you're too fucked up on morphine to even realize you hit rock bottom. You sleep, you groan, you live your life and you wake up not remembering the horrible circumstances and unpleasant memories you made for yourself...and trot...trot down the same beaten path, falling forever down the same well. What they need to do for rehabilitation is tape the whole thing so you can watch it when you're "better" and you can see what a complete ass you made of yourself as you wallowed in your own vomit right before you die.
First of all, it's dark. Pitch black dark. You can't see the bottom coming and it scares you even more, because you never stop falling. You extend your arms to claw at the walls, you flail your body open to catch some air under you but it doesn't matter because suddenly your 19 years too young and in the emergency room for an overdose of intoxicants.
You wake up, your arm is hurting from all the IV protrusions but you're too fucked up on morphine to even realize you hit rock bottom. You sleep, you groan, you live your life and you wake up not remembering the horrible circumstances and unpleasant memories you made for yourself...and trot...trot down the same beaten path, falling forever down the same well. What they need to do for rehabilitation is tape the whole thing so you can watch it when you're "better" and you can see what a complete ass you made of yourself as you wallowed in your own vomit right before you die.
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