A Collection of Spectacles


I’m sitting outside, chain smoking. I spend the rest of the night following him around, asking him questions. He peaks my interest for a while but, like most people, he doesn’t hold it for very long. We’re on the floor in a room and he keeps telling me that I move too fast. I can’t do anything any other way. Then, my friend opens the door and she asks us what are we doing. I don’t have an answer. I don’t sleep. My imagination carries me, takes me away to distant places. We are sitting in a smoke filled bathroom (for which I am bound to get in trouble for) and I am about to leave when I am kissed. I react hesitantly. Then, a whispered why not is heard. Whether it came from inside or whether it was spoken into my ear I can’t remember. Either way, I can’t think of a good excuse, a good reason why I shouldn’t, so I go along with it, which is something that I do far too often. I dream a vibrant dream: Three sets of three balloons fill my room and I have to push them all out the window. My imagination carries me, takes me away. We’re standing in the kitchen. I’m cooking. I’m trying to get relationship advice, but I guess that the way in which I’m going about it is sending out weird signals. He says they’re all like [   ]. Every last one. By “they” he means his friends. Now, I’m lying in his lap and speaking incoherently, traveling every inch on the emotional spectrum in the span of a few seconds, because alcohol makes me honest. I am indecisive. I keep saying, you’re too nice, and I explain that I need to be treated like shit. It’s my primitive form of entertainment. It keeps me interested. I drink more, and I am able to have thoughtless sleep. My imagination carries me.

It’s all a jumbled mess. It’s all jumbled and mixed up.

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I’m a little sick. I was more sick last night and this morning, (I had a fever this morning) but I took a lot of nyquil and slept everything away. Drug induced sleep is really dumb, pointless. It’s dreamless, numbing like real sleep with all the excitement and creativity taken out. The entire time I kept thinking, My liver is going to fall off, because I know how bad acetaminophen is for it. Anyway, Claire brought me steamed vegetables because she’s the nicest person ever, and I called her Mom a billion times. My real Mom brought me a doughnut. This is all really pointless and I’m kind of just posting to post. 

In other news: I’m kind of alone, but I don’t want to get too close to anyone. I end up constantly frustrated as a result. I wish someone would just fall out of the sky and be perfect. 

I may post more later. I’m not sure.

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