(no subject)
Being an outcast is only fun when there's someone around to be an outcast with. It's like you have your own little world where it's just, you know, you and some people who get you. Like, maybe even just one person who gets you. Here- I dunno, man, It's like, I just can't connect. I can't find that one other person who gets it. Gets me. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough, but, like, I shouldn't have to try at all. When you find that person or those people- you should just know it.
That's what happened with me and Steve-o. He just got me. We were just kids, but the first day we met I knew we were going to be close forever. I could feel it. The only other person I've ever had a connection like that with was Trish, and even then it wasn't exactly the same. Trish always looked at me from a distance. Like she was looking at something she knew she could never really understand- but liked anyway. Trish wanted to get me- and I wanted to get her. It was a beautiful thing, man. It was, you know, harmonious, or something.
I see people here connecting all the time. People in love, people making friends... Yesterday I saw two guys holding hands, and it was fucking beautiful. And I'm not sayin' that just 'cause they were gay or whatever. I mean, I don't even see the difference between gay or straight... I mean, aren't we all kind of gay? I've never been with a guy or anything, but, like, that doesn't mean I can't be or I'll never want to be, right? ...I'm getting off topic. Point is, they were happy. They were touching, and they were sharing something.
And I wanted it so bad that I kind of hated them for having it.
I'm an outcast, sure, but I've never been a loner. I don't do well alone. I think too much and I just- It gets hard. It gets really hard to just be Bob, and not freak the fuck out.
My hands are shaking, and I light the last cigarette from my pack. I've been saving it, and it tastes fucking stale, but I don't care. I need it right now. I'll figure out how to get more later. Besides, losing the cigarettes hasn't been as bad as living without beer and shit. I swear to god, man, the first week without it- I felt like I was dieing. Now it's just like I'm empty. Like I've lost something. It makes me a little crazy sometimes, to the point that I've been trying to make some moonshine.
The first batch should be done soon. I can't wait. You know that feeling you get when you haven't seen someone in a while and you go to meet them at the bus stop or whatever, and, like, you're standing there, and you know they're coming any minute now? It feels like that.
That's probably really fucked up.
Sitting on the steps outside the compound, I take another drag and blow a smoke ring. Steve-o taught me that. I do it again, and then turn my head slightly as someone walks by me. Like I'm not even here. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just the invisible man.
That's what happened with me and Steve-o. He just got me. We were just kids, but the first day we met I knew we were going to be close forever. I could feel it. The only other person I've ever had a connection like that with was Trish, and even then it wasn't exactly the same. Trish always looked at me from a distance. Like she was looking at something she knew she could never really understand- but liked anyway. Trish wanted to get me- and I wanted to get her. It was a beautiful thing, man. It was, you know, harmonious, or something.
I see people here connecting all the time. People in love, people making friends... Yesterday I saw two guys holding hands, and it was fucking beautiful. And I'm not sayin' that just 'cause they were gay or whatever. I mean, I don't even see the difference between gay or straight... I mean, aren't we all kind of gay? I've never been with a guy or anything, but, like, that doesn't mean I can't be or I'll never want to be, right? ...I'm getting off topic. Point is, they were happy. They were touching, and they were sharing something.
And I wanted it so bad that I kind of hated them for having it.
I'm an outcast, sure, but I've never been a loner. I don't do well alone. I think too much and I just- It gets hard. It gets really hard to just be Bob, and not freak the fuck out.
My hands are shaking, and I light the last cigarette from my pack. I've been saving it, and it tastes fucking stale, but I don't care. I need it right now. I'll figure out how to get more later. Besides, losing the cigarettes hasn't been as bad as living without beer and shit. I swear to god, man, the first week without it- I felt like I was dieing. Now it's just like I'm empty. Like I've lost something. It makes me a little crazy sometimes, to the point that I've been trying to make some moonshine.
The first batch should be done soon. I can't wait. You know that feeling you get when you haven't seen someone in a while and you go to meet them at the bus stop or whatever, and, like, you're standing there, and you know they're coming any minute now? It feels like that.
That's probably really fucked up.
Sitting on the steps outside the compound, I take another drag and blow a smoke ring. Steve-o taught me that. I do it again, and then turn my head slightly as someone walks by me. Like I'm not even here. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just the invisible man.