trucker_fiction

so i just walked back from class and it's like 13 (but feels like 4) fucking degrees outside, but the sun is out, and it's strange sometimes to be all dressed up warm as fuck and still wearing oakleys... that one, last little bit of summer on your face, covering your eyes, it's your mask, it's your safety goggles, it's your separation from the rest of the world. don't look at me. don't look into my eyes, i've got these fucking sunglasses on and can't you see that they've got POLARIZED written on them? i'm better than you motherfucker, sitting there, walking there, running back to your shitty little apartment in the basement of a building built back in the 60s but the landlord is trying all the time to convince you how nice they really are by just changing around some little shit like re-doing the terrible linoleum tile in the hallway and it's like what the fuck is that supposed to do for me? I can hear the neighbor's shitty TV upstairs sitting here in my bedroom. they argue too. they always turn on their TV real loud when they argue, like it's their mask, their coverup, their secret. too bad, motherfuckers, the walls are thin around here and i can hear every word you're saying, you don't fool me, you fakes, liars, cheats, country club golf hustlers. you don't fool anyone with those christmas lights on your balcony year-round. this ain't hollywood, and you're not a fucking pimp just because you wear abercrombie and get three girls' phone numbers in one night. jesus fucking christ it's cold outside.