Valentines Day Massacre
Today I came to the shocking realization that my life isn't going to pan out PRECISELY as I thought it would. Yeah, this sounds sarcastic. But it's not. And therein lies the tragedy.
I've spent a very long, very relaxed portion of my life fucking around knowing what was going to happen next, and watching them all work out one-by-one. I set up the dominoes, and they fell in the pattern in which I had set them. Beautiful.
But just recently (a few hours ago) I noticed something. I went back to those dominoes and realized that one of them wasn't from my set. One of them shouldn't have knocked over the rest of the dominoes, yet somehow it had. It was too short. It was slightly off-center. Oh, and it was made out of air.
So I'm sitting here wondering how that domino was able to knock the rest of them down when it was never there to begin with, and I say to myself, "Self, you've got yourself a problem. You were so delusional that not only did you envision an entire row of dominoes falling down one-by-one, when they really stopped falling a year and a half ago, but you also envisioned your entire life as a series of dominoes. You should probably get that checked out. Oh, and your mother called. Said something about a winter jacket. It's chilly, y'know. Do you have boots? How can you not have boots? I bought you a pair of boots. I know you have them. Oh, and don't forget t....." Sorry mom, I have to finish this entry in time to make it to Christine's house to get my cigarettes before she goes to work.
So anyway, it seems as if I actually have to start paying attention to what's going on around me, and have less faith in my own inevitable fate.
But hey. I'm one of those people who HATES being told what to do. So I'm going to defy myself. I'm going to do something that will most likely break me, but if not, will completely restore my utter loyalty to fate and the forcefield of luck and happiness that's been holding up for a few years now in my area. All I have to do is say to myself, "Self, I'm sorry, but things just aren't working out. You seem to think that by looking at my surroundings and my life (or lack thereof) I will somehow "snap out of it" and start "doing something" and stop "slackin' off" and finally "clean my bathroom". No. By "snapping out of it" all I will end up doing is looking back at the section of my life between the "waking up" point and the "looking back" point and figure that I've wasted it, and that I wasn't "myself" and begin doing what I am now, yet at a much slower pace. So I just have to do my thing, man. Next time you want me to "get off my ass" and "drink less alcohol" and "find out why I'm peeing blood", I'm just going to tell you to stick your fascist demands where the sun don't oft shine."
In closing,
Go fuck myself.
I've spent a very long, very relaxed portion of my life fucking around knowing what was going to happen next, and watching them all work out one-by-one. I set up the dominoes, and they fell in the pattern in which I had set them. Beautiful.
But just recently (a few hours ago) I noticed something. I went back to those dominoes and realized that one of them wasn't from my set. One of them shouldn't have knocked over the rest of the dominoes, yet somehow it had. It was too short. It was slightly off-center. Oh, and it was made out of air.
So I'm sitting here wondering how that domino was able to knock the rest of them down when it was never there to begin with, and I say to myself, "Self, you've got yourself a problem. You were so delusional that not only did you envision an entire row of dominoes falling down one-by-one, when they really stopped falling a year and a half ago, but you also envisioned your entire life as a series of dominoes. You should probably get that checked out. Oh, and your mother called. Said something about a winter jacket. It's chilly, y'know. Do you have boots? How can you not have boots? I bought you a pair of boots. I know you have them. Oh, and don't forget t....." Sorry mom, I have to finish this entry in time to make it to Christine's house to get my cigarettes before she goes to work.
So anyway, it seems as if I actually have to start paying attention to what's going on around me, and have less faith in my own inevitable fate.
But hey. I'm one of those people who HATES being told what to do. So I'm going to defy myself. I'm going to do something that will most likely break me, but if not, will completely restore my utter loyalty to fate and the forcefield of luck and happiness that's been holding up for a few years now in my area. All I have to do is say to myself, "Self, I'm sorry, but things just aren't working out. You seem to think that by looking at my surroundings and my life (or lack thereof) I will somehow "snap out of it" and start "doing something" and stop "slackin' off" and finally "clean my bathroom". No. By "snapping out of it" all I will end up doing is looking back at the section of my life between the "waking up" point and the "looking back" point and figure that I've wasted it, and that I wasn't "myself" and begin doing what I am now, yet at a much slower pace. So I just have to do my thing, man. Next time you want me to "get off my ass" and "drink less alcohol" and "find out why I'm peeing blood", I'm just going to tell you to stick your fascist demands where the sun don't oft shine."
In closing,
Go fuck myself.