And he's got enough sense not to come back home.
I've left my house only once today, and that was so that I could go to Wendy's, not because I was really hungry, I'd made myself spaghetti something like an hour and a half before, but 'coz I was about to start crying, I was so bored.
I don't like what my life's become. No one ever calls me, and I don't ever call anyone. I spend a lot of my time reading, but it's almost as useless as sitting in front of a television. Except I can eat while I watch tv, that gets kind of difficult with a book in yr hand. I am unemployed, and I have not registered or thought about what sorta classes I'm going to be taking next semester. And since I don't want to waste any gas on aimless driving, I try and figure out exactly where I'm going and what I'm gonna do before I get out the door in an attempt to endure the boredom. But I can never think of anything worthwhile, so I just end up not going anywhere.
I haven't reeeeaaally been writing, either. I'll jot down notes or write a line or two here (But I'm best at coming up with two lines, and leaving the rest of the poem unfinished), but I haven't completed something I'm actually proud of for a bit. And fuck, does it hurt. It's not as though I've been panicking, but yeh always get to wondering, during a dry spell, whether anything'll ever come to you again. It's not a good place to be when you're missing the normal opiates of friends or fun or . . .anything, I guess, to dull the blow. Maybe I'll just publish a book of unresolving couplets and call it "Drought".
Even this entry, these stupid and trite words that really do nothing but take up space, seems useless and bland. Soon I'll be so filled with existential angst, I'll dye my hair black. Even though it is pretty much black already. It'll be a blacker black, nay, the blackest black.
I got some of my hair shaved at Montclair on Monday night. I went over from sheer boredom, and there was basically one lame party but an alright night of very drunken hanging out waiting for me. I asked about electric razors, and someone found one, so now I've got the left side of my head shaved, and the rest of it's untouched, so I've got one near-bald patch and really what is too much hair for me to deal with on the rest my head. Coupled with my tattoos, no one'll ever hire me again 'coz I look like a freak. Hooray, self expression!
I've cut down on smoking, and it hasn't been that difficult. I haven't even really been trying. I mean, I've been thinking about cutting down, but I've really made no conscious effort to, it just sorta happened. What sucks is that I've been massively sick meanwhile, so I'm coughing up phlegm and feeling like shit, hoping downing gallons of orange juice'll help me feel better.
Hello, my name is Waste.
Laundromats generally don't lock their doors at night. I know for certain the one in Wharton, closest to me, doesn't, 'coz I just got back from there to use their vending machines. They think all they need to do is get the lights off and no one'll open the door. Hell, I didn't have 1.75 or any clothes to wash, but I'll bet the machines're still all plugged in and working after hours, 'coz the machine lights were still on. Since I'm constantly conserving gas in my car by letting myself freeze and not put the heat on, and the fact that my parents are doing the same, except with the house, I almost fell onto the floor to just curl into a ball and bask in the warmth of the laundromat. I thought about maybe going back there, sometime late at night, to just hang out and listen to musick, or read, or if I were bored and hanging out with someone, that we could just go to the laundromat and talk, but then I realized that I'm some sort of weird-o, and if I asked people to hang out in laundromats late at night then I probably wouldn't have people to hang out with after a while.
God, I hate normal people, why can't you all be freaks like me? It's not fair.
I don't like what my life's become. No one ever calls me, and I don't ever call anyone. I spend a lot of my time reading, but it's almost as useless as sitting in front of a television. Except I can eat while I watch tv, that gets kind of difficult with a book in yr hand. I am unemployed, and I have not registered or thought about what sorta classes I'm going to be taking next semester. And since I don't want to waste any gas on aimless driving, I try and figure out exactly where I'm going and what I'm gonna do before I get out the door in an attempt to endure the boredom. But I can never think of anything worthwhile, so I just end up not going anywhere.
I haven't reeeeaaally been writing, either. I'll jot down notes or write a line or two here (But I'm best at coming up with two lines, and leaving the rest of the poem unfinished), but I haven't completed something I'm actually proud of for a bit. And fuck, does it hurt. It's not as though I've been panicking, but yeh always get to wondering, during a dry spell, whether anything'll ever come to you again. It's not a good place to be when you're missing the normal opiates of friends or fun or . . .anything, I guess, to dull the blow. Maybe I'll just publish a book of unresolving couplets and call it "Drought".
Even this entry, these stupid and trite words that really do nothing but take up space, seems useless and bland. Soon I'll be so filled with existential angst, I'll dye my hair black. Even though it is pretty much black already. It'll be a blacker black, nay, the blackest black.
I got some of my hair shaved at Montclair on Monday night. I went over from sheer boredom, and there was basically one lame party but an alright night of very drunken hanging out waiting for me. I asked about electric razors, and someone found one, so now I've got the left side of my head shaved, and the rest of it's untouched, so I've got one near-bald patch and really what is too much hair for me to deal with on the rest my head. Coupled with my tattoos, no one'll ever hire me again 'coz I look like a freak. Hooray, self expression!
I've cut down on smoking, and it hasn't been that difficult. I haven't even really been trying. I mean, I've been thinking about cutting down, but I've really made no conscious effort to, it just sorta happened. What sucks is that I've been massively sick meanwhile, so I'm coughing up phlegm and feeling like shit, hoping downing gallons of orange juice'll help me feel better.
Hello, my name is Waste.
Laundromats generally don't lock their doors at night. I know for certain the one in Wharton, closest to me, doesn't, 'coz I just got back from there to use their vending machines. They think all they need to do is get the lights off and no one'll open the door. Hell, I didn't have 1.75 or any clothes to wash, but I'll bet the machines're still all plugged in and working after hours, 'coz the machine lights were still on. Since I'm constantly conserving gas in my car by letting myself freeze and not put the heat on, and the fact that my parents are doing the same, except with the house, I almost fell onto the floor to just curl into a ball and bask in the warmth of the laundromat. I thought about maybe going back there, sometime late at night, to just hang out and listen to musick, or read, or if I were bored and hanging out with someone, that we could just go to the laundromat and talk, but then I realized that I'm some sort of weird-o, and if I asked people to hang out in laundromats late at night then I probably wouldn't have people to hang out with after a while.
God, I hate normal people, why can't you all be freaks like me? It's not fair.