i am an idiot, or fate is really fucking with me.
yesterday, i politly begged my"peers" to call if they were gonna go out, as i am in desperate need of some stimulating conversation, or just social interaction of any kind. so of course when no one called, i attributed it to a general lack of personality and my "misunderstood" image (if only i were that cool). so tonight, my phone dies, and i can't get it to turn back on., it hasn't rang in two days, and this is normal to me because, like i've said i am desperate for intaction of any kind. i kick and scream and finally take it to my friend dave, and tell him it wont turn on, he "fixes" it. (anythng dave has fixed in the past has ultimately been more damaged for meeting with him in the long run). i check my messages, this cute kid i enjoy talking to had left a message sayin everyone'd be a the local bar tonight an i should come. so i go. and noones there. so i wait, an hour later i'm almost in tears.
i call this kid, turns out, he had called yesterday. and to compleat the story of my life i am a day late and a dollar short.
now, god why cant someone just hit me with a car, or shoot me dead in the steet. for what sick purpose is my pathetic little life still in progress for?
yesterday, i politly begged my"peers" to call if they were gonna go out, as i am in desperate need of some stimulating conversation, or just social interaction of any kind. so of course when no one called, i attributed it to a general lack of personality and my "misunderstood" image (if only i were that cool). so tonight, my phone dies, and i can't get it to turn back on., it hasn't rang in two days, and this is normal to me because, like i've said i am desperate for intaction of any kind. i kick and scream and finally take it to my friend dave, and tell him it wont turn on, he "fixes" it. (anythng dave has fixed in the past has ultimately been more damaged for meeting with him in the long run). i check my messages, this cute kid i enjoy talking to had left a message sayin everyone'd be a the local bar tonight an i should come. so i go. and noones there. so i wait, an hour later i'm almost in tears.
i call this kid, turns out, he had called yesterday. and to compleat the story of my life i am a day late and a dollar short.
now, god why cant someone just hit me with a car, or shoot me dead in the steet. for what sick purpose is my pathetic little life still in progress for?
since i heard about it, i've beenthinking of ways to weasle out of it.
i can tell, within the first hour, i'm gonna get the question/statement: You dont talk much, do ya?
god, i hate that. anyone that knows me knows i cant keep my damned trap shut, so S'll say, "Yeah, he's funny--say something funny."
generally, i cop out and tell a obscene joke about paralyzed people or some other gash thing i heard from this dude named Cory--a bigot in his own right and a med student to boot.
so, in answer to you're question, "For what sick purpose is my pathetic little life still in process for?"
i usually tell people either "God thinks you're amusing," or "Good question."
the former is a Atmosphere lyric.
but for you: You, my dear, are the wind benieth my wings.
i doubt that's any consolation, and i doubt i have any say in whether god, or whoever, takes whichever life whenever, but i'm glad he/she/it hasnt.
but find solace in this: if it were up to the little drummer boy, we'd all be beatin' it.