The moment I’ve been waiting for has just happened. I felt it snap, I looked up and I realised that I’m crazy, I’m fucking crazy. It’s a bit of a relief actually. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and, now that it’s happened, I feel oddly liberated. What was holding me back again, I ponder.
I look at the television and I exclaim, ‘it’s so cute!’ Then I know it’s not but I don’t care.
It seems that I’ve moved on but I don’t know from what or, more interestingly, to what. Maybe it’s that I’m standing very still. So still that I can feel all the world moving outside, around me, away from me. And it seems like something matters.
Pathetic how suckered in by the television I am. I’ve cried, ‘it’s so cute,’ to saccharine familial love even though it’s not.
I lost my mind between the couch and here and I cannot remember how to think or which buttons to press. There are buttons involved, aren’t there?
I was dreaming my megalomaniacal dreams again last night. Selected, preserved, and fucked over most royally.
Is it true that swearing shows a lack of imagination; it is true that swearing shows a lack of imagination. Sounds like one of those irritating Americanisms.
I’ll take myself to church now and believe not believe but believe and never question. No I won’t. That’s a lie.
Now I’m dreaming of a warm bed, it’s one already occupied, not really but really and I’m aching to get to it and warm my cold hands.
5 comments:
Television should be classified as an addictive subtance. It does consume - brain cells. I have an excuse. I have an addictive personality "And that's why I never tried drugs". HA!
So, do you want me out of your bed or not?
The usual rules apply, Jeremy. Wash first, keep the sheets warm, and fuck off outta the bed when told. Until then, the bed is yours.
most. disjointed. post. ever.
Well done.
Mark, I am developing a very bizarre reaction to you - you say something vaguely complimentary and I get very, very nervous.
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