(no subject)
I really should not be awake now.
I work tomorrow.
I work with large machinery in a very physical capacity.
Therefore, energy (physical and mental) is a plus.
But I'm not asleep.
I'm not sure what I'm waiting for, either.
I'm waiting for... something. Something to tell me "this is what you've been waiting for!"
Isn't that always the way?
It's like a scab that you can't allow to heal over.
It hurts like hell, but if you let it heal over,
You'll forget why it hurts. So you rip at it.
Because if it heals over, you'll forget.
Yesterday I took a ride in an ambulance.
I was struck by a car in the parking lot of Potomac Mills.
They ran a stop sign and for once, my paranoia - Scottish Sense! - didn't pull me out of the way.
I rolled up their hood and dropped onto the ground.
I got up and was walking off when someone came over screaming that they were calling 911.
So I waited and took a ride.
Minor bruising, no busted stuff (DMB?) and no bleeding.
I went to work today and barely noticed it.
One of these days I'm going to wear out this body of mine.
But hell, like I care. That's what it's for!
If we were pristine little china dolls, we'd all be on some elderly woman's "knick knacks shelf."
It just needs to last long enough 'til I'm done with my business here.
As I type this, there are people dying and there are people being born.
There are people crying alone, there are people dancing in the streets.
There are people fucking and fighting, indulging in the two most primal human emotions.
As I type this, the human stage is unfolding.
Am I part of the cast or am I part of the crew?
Am I in my light?
Or am I in the dark making it all happen?
What's my role?
And why the FUCK am I using a theatre metaphor?
That's for pussies.
I work tomorrow.
I work with large machinery in a very physical capacity.
Therefore, energy (physical and mental) is a plus.
But I'm not asleep.
I'm not sure what I'm waiting for, either.
I'm waiting for... something. Something to tell me "this is what you've been waiting for!"
Isn't that always the way?
It's like a scab that you can't allow to heal over.
It hurts like hell, but if you let it heal over,
You'll forget why it hurts. So you rip at it.
Because if it heals over, you'll forget.
Yesterday I took a ride in an ambulance.
I was struck by a car in the parking lot of Potomac Mills.
They ran a stop sign and for once, my paranoia - Scottish Sense! - didn't pull me out of the way.
I rolled up their hood and dropped onto the ground.
I got up and was walking off when someone came over screaming that they were calling 911.
So I waited and took a ride.
Minor bruising, no busted stuff (DMB?) and no bleeding.
I went to work today and barely noticed it.
One of these days I'm going to wear out this body of mine.
But hell, like I care. That's what it's for!
If we were pristine little china dolls, we'd all be on some elderly woman's "knick knacks shelf."
It just needs to last long enough 'til I'm done with my business here.
As I type this, there are people dying and there are people being born.
There are people crying alone, there are people dancing in the streets.
There are people fucking and fighting, indulging in the two most primal human emotions.
As I type this, the human stage is unfolding.
Am I part of the cast or am I part of the crew?
Am I in my light?
Or am I in the dark making it all happen?
What's my role?
And why the FUCK am I using a theatre metaphor?
That's for pussies.