(no subject)
well, i don't think that i planned for this when i came here last time. i should havce spoken to the travel agent inside my skull and asked her if i should pack accordingly. you know, just in case; because i knew i'd be coming back, but i didn't check my calendar for what day i should leave. i bought the tickets anyway. one way tickets to isolation are on sale this time of year. i can see why. this place is dead. the streets are fucking deserted. at least the only bar is open, but i have to pour my own drinks. i guess i never had a problem with that. the bartender took off last time i was here, but he never locked the door. i think he knew i'd be coming back. somehow. we're like dogs. losing our minds before the storm, but never knowing if it's just going to drizzle or if there's going to be a fucking hurricane. it's all decided anyway, free will went to shit with the formation of the universe. now i'm stuck wandering around drunk in this fucking ghost town. maybe i can steal a gun and blow my fucking brains out. it's too bad i've never fired a round in my life. maybe it isn't so bad when your first bullet is your last. maybe your last breathe is actually your first. shit, i'm talking about killing myself and there isn't even a soul here who will be stuck with the job if picking up my goddamn corpse. i'll bet my life maggots don't even come here to devour the flesh off of my bones. anyway, i'm fucking glued to this sidewalk and a thousand miles in any direction belongs to isolation. it's less like a city and more like a morgue these days. whatever isn't sterile is fucking dead, but i'm neither one.