I'm fucking ridiculous. I have no money and have to pay rent in four days to the tune of 700 dollars. Let's not even begin to discuss my job options. Well, if you want, we can........there, we just did. That's what I have to work with. A big mess of nothing. And that's not even MY biggest concerns.
Apparently...I want every situation of my life to be a scene from a made-up movie in my head. Everything has to adhere to the principals of what I think a good movie scene, starring ME, of course. I want things to be dramatic and important and end on punchlines and laughter or tears or something. But things just don't ever end, they just keep going. What an awful movie. I say dumb things and want dumb things to happen, things that would only add drama (in the theatric sense and the...ghetto mamma? sense) to my lowly life.
Example.
I want to find my ex-girlfriend and invite her, while standing outside whatever coffee shop she's at, to Outback steakhouse, where we had our first date and many more. I don't want to linger, just invite her. She'll say yes, obviously, dumbfounded at my sudden appearance and my demeanor.
At the restaurant, I'll have arrived first. I'll be seated in the bar section, where I could see the door. She'd come in. She'd see me and smile and come sit down. And we'd talk and talk and have a great time and everything would melt away in the dim light of the restaurant. Our current lives, whatever they may be, would be gone and we'd be ourselves again. Just for that hour or so. And I'd tell her I know about the things she's done and I'm fine with them and she'd begin to explain them. No need to explain, I'd say, you did what you needed to do. And we'd go our seperate ways. To our seperate cars, for the first time ever, to our seperate houses or friends houses, alone, for the first time ever.
And it would be bittersweet and I'd probably cry my fucking eyes out in the car afterwards. I fucking wreck of a man who doesn't have shit left. Bittersweet.
Why would I want this to happen? I'm fucking ridiculous.
Apparently...I want every situation of my life to be a scene from a made-up movie in my head. Everything has to adhere to the principals of what I think a good movie scene, starring ME, of course. I want things to be dramatic and important and end on punchlines and laughter or tears or something. But things just don't ever end, they just keep going. What an awful movie. I say dumb things and want dumb things to happen, things that would only add drama (in the theatric sense and the...ghetto mamma? sense) to my lowly life.
Example.
I want to find my ex-girlfriend and invite her, while standing outside whatever coffee shop she's at, to Outback steakhouse, where we had our first date and many more. I don't want to linger, just invite her. She'll say yes, obviously, dumbfounded at my sudden appearance and my demeanor.
At the restaurant, I'll have arrived first. I'll be seated in the bar section, where I could see the door. She'd come in. She'd see me and smile and come sit down. And we'd talk and talk and have a great time and everything would melt away in the dim light of the restaurant. Our current lives, whatever they may be, would be gone and we'd be ourselves again. Just for that hour or so. And I'd tell her I know about the things she's done and I'm fine with them and she'd begin to explain them. No need to explain, I'd say, you did what you needed to do. And we'd go our seperate ways. To our seperate cars, for the first time ever, to our seperate houses or friends houses, alone, for the first time ever.
And it would be bittersweet and I'd probably cry my fucking eyes out in the car afterwards. I fucking wreck of a man who doesn't have shit left. Bittersweet.
Why would I want this to happen? I'm fucking ridiculous.
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Go sing in the streets... I'll be thinking of you at uh... 9 my time. :-)