Sunday, April 3, 2011

untitled rash!

sour eyes stare,
dreaming of black ooze
sick as the haze,
inspired to be mired

myriads of pyramids
the dead drag, and drag
to schlep carcinoma
and slave over a grave
existence wavers

wretched soliloquy
arrogant dream of me
what i need to see,
for my heart to be.

I wrote that stuff at my best friends house, because we were writing and stuff, and sometimes I do enjoy working with words. I also like how "wordsmith" looks and sounds, but I would hate people that describe themselves as one. I don't know why that's important. Probably because it's not.
I just listened to Coldplays Parachutes album from start to finish, and did a lot of clickity clacketing. Also, I threw up a couple of times. Hurray for the flu.
I didn't even finish the words up there. I just threw up something unfinished because I don't know if I care anymore, which may be the aching fever I have, but I won't know for sure until I get better.

You know what I used to be good at? I mean, I never ever did it, but in the rare situations when I had to.. I used to be amazing with words. I used to be straight forward, confident, and I used to manage to say the perfect thing. Now I can't help but stumble over my broken sentences, and hope no one reads most of them despite me slapping them on the internet. But I guess that's further testimonial to the whole, I don't care anymore, routine.

You know what else I realized? I'll never really know what I think about myself, because I'm usually trying to look in on myself from other peoples perspectives. And what do I have going for me? I'm okay looking, tall, smart ish. Et cetera. I wouldn't say I have any particularly amazing talents, save for my undying supply of cynicism and sarcasm.
I guess I'm great in relationships, until they're over and I become the absolute ass that needs to distance himself from any and all emotion. I'm awesome at being there for people, but I often turn around and get sick of how most everyone else tries to express themselves while I'm being knowingly hypocritical.
If I took stock of my personality right now, I'd say I'm a contradiction. I know I'm wonderful with people, but I hate people. I can more or less be friends with most anyone I meet, but since I hate people, I don't ever do that. Over the past few years I've gone from a completely emotionally shut down person, to a very very open person that still shuts his emotions away for that special little cold day in whatever circle of hell is saved for atheists.
I guess overall, I'm an asshole who's cynical, egotistical, and semi narcissistic. And while I'd hate to say I'm always right and most other people are wrong, I know deep down that often I am right, just horribly blunt about it and so no one wants to hear it. But in contradiction, I know when to melt like butter. I can be a fantastic friend, a protective whatever the hell, etc. And I know I'm a damn good boyfriend, which seems to be on my mind for six of six reasons right now. Not that my ability to be a boyfriend is in question, I've just found myself asking that odd question, what with a third of my friends being in breakups, another third finding new love, and the rest either fighting with their "significant" other or bragging about the "single life".

Blah blah blahooie.
There's not much out there for me to commentate on. I'm bored. I'm sick as hell. Half alive even. But I'm alright. Also, last week at the grocery store when I was getting cough syrup before I left from Spokane to Yakima, I got a lovely girls phone number and am now curious if the "good boyfriend" routine covers possible future relationships, seeing as how I really don't feel like going out to my car and finding the damn receipt she wrote her number on.
Blah blah.
I'm going to crash bandicoot now.

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