tell me why
i fell apart today. and not in the obvious way. more of a subtle, unknowing way.
i didn't fall apart today. what does falling apart mean, anyway? i still acted the same way, i still laughed at the same jokes. i still recognized the small trivialities that define life, regardless of hardships.
today, people got blown up at the end of the Boston Marathon. people got blown up at other locations around Boston. fuckers released bombs to murder people at their ultimate high. and i'm damn sure people got blown up in other countries at the same exact time.
but no, that's not why they made those bombs. they didn't set those bombs off for the purpose of hurting people as they crossed their finish line, figuratively and literally. the people who made those bombs were not thinking of that. it wasn't to bring these athletes down from their pedestals. they were spectators as well. they saw their amputation in live time. they saw the legs that brought them to this point get severed at arbitrary configurations. the runners honed in on the BOOM that turned their mobility to tragedy. and i was down the street from them, searching for prior art for a douche who's looking to find a financial jizz tissue.
you gotta question your work at some point. this might be that point. maybe not. maybe i gotta be as selfish as the next guy. there's going to be disgusting actions everywhere you go and Boston just happens to be a sexy target. mmm large crowds and positive demeanors give *terrorists* a hard on. no?
i almost said something boring. like, what only hurts you makes you stronger. borrringgggggGGggg.
i backspaced and rolled my eyes at it (while hesitating, *shhhh*).
maybe the reason why i backspaced it is because i didn't live shit today. i lived in the news and felt emotional over nothing that directly affected me. i know it was close to me physically, but as far as i know, i have NO connections to this devastation. who the fuck do i think i am?
maybe i wouldn't roll my eyes if i saw my brain matter splattered on a backdrop.
i didn't fall apart today. what does falling apart mean, anyway? i still acted the same way, i still laughed at the same jokes. i still recognized the small trivialities that define life, regardless of hardships.
today, people got blown up at the end of the Boston Marathon. people got blown up at other locations around Boston. fuckers released bombs to murder people at their ultimate high. and i'm damn sure people got blown up in other countries at the same exact time.
but no, that's not why they made those bombs. they didn't set those bombs off for the purpose of hurting people as they crossed their finish line, figuratively and literally. the people who made those bombs were not thinking of that. it wasn't to bring these athletes down from their pedestals. they were spectators as well. they saw their amputation in live time. they saw the legs that brought them to this point get severed at arbitrary configurations. the runners honed in on the BOOM that turned their mobility to tragedy. and i was down the street from them, searching for prior art for a douche who's looking to find a financial jizz tissue.
you gotta question your work at some point. this might be that point. maybe not. maybe i gotta be as selfish as the next guy. there's going to be disgusting actions everywhere you go and Boston just happens to be a sexy target. mmm large crowds and positive demeanors give *terrorists* a hard on. no?
i almost said something boring. like, what only hurts you makes you stronger. borrringgggggGGggg.
i backspaced and rolled my eyes at it (while hesitating, *shhhh*).
maybe the reason why i backspaced it is because i didn't live shit today. i lived in the news and felt emotional over nothing that directly affected me. i know it was close to me physically, but as far as i know, i have NO connections to this devastation. who the fuck do i think i am?
maybe i wouldn't roll my eyes if i saw my brain matter splattered on a backdrop.