Fullbody Tourniquet
Drunk again. Not that it makes a differnece, I suppose. Actually, it must. Else people wouldn't drink, much less get drunk. I'd been planning that line for so long, you don't even know it. Every sincere exclamation that I unleash upon you is a conspiracy. Know that. Know that. Know that. Everything have is planned, everything I give you has so much more behind it than I can actually present to you. That's the tragedy there. There's the fucking tragedy, in full Shakespearean glory, an auditorium of pale Greeks give their reluctant palm. And shall this curtain fall, oh well, no one cares, and that, too, is part of the plan.
Listening to A Lonesome Crowded West. That's how this space is: lonesome, and crowded. Lacking in people. Overflowing with ghosts. Regrets? I never had any. So I choose to delude myself. Choose your lie. Cast your vote. And don't complain when you get what you wished for. That's right, I should not fucking complain. Ridiculous.
More drunk than I thought, am I? Should've expected that. Whatever. Played techno music in the courtyard today until the security guard came over and told us to shut it. Good enough run I guess, an entire career came and gone within two hours. I kid. I wish I knew something about the music industry. My ignorance is embarrassing and will forever be so.
Been back at school for a week already. Good enough, sustaining myself, maybe I'll actually do something soon. Only person out of the four people in this apartment not having a job. Speaking of which, our apartment is huge. I mean gigantic. It's bigger than my home in Taiwan, with one more person living here. And since all four people are hardly ever in the apartment in the same time, it's positively monstrous. Everyone who has visited has been shocked.
Here's the truth: I'll tell it because I am drunk out of my mind. You may not get the chance later, since this inebriation does not happen every day, despite what it might seem like. Appreciate it while you can. I am scared of people. I am absolutely terrified of those who seem to have no doubt in their lives. I am so goddamn petrified, in fact, that the only thing I can bring myself to do is smile, say hi, and feign confidence. Those who thrive in the poisoned lake must be monsters. Old B-movies say so.
Everyone is either drunk or asleep now. The drunk people being me. Goddamn it. People should just go lead their lives. I can't participate in this, I can't fight for my say, I'm too scared. I just hold my silence like it's the last thing I have, and somehow it is. Lead your lives. Claim your happiness. It just alienates further. Just don't let it have anything to do with me, because seriously, I want no part of it. Is that truly what I wish, to be so detached that I don't even need to acknowledge anyone even if they are closer to the conclusion than I am?
You may have your better way of living a life. I don't care. Let me stay here. Let me bake in whatever despondence I have left, because at least I know it is mine. What works for you probably won't work for me, so let me go on not working, and that way at least I'll have an excuse. Can't you at least grant a man an excuse? That's ridiculous. Don't listen to me. Now I'm just spouting pathetic confessionals because I can, and they don't mean anything, or so I think. In three or four years, I haven't changed at all. To strip the world as naked as I feel. Though it's probably pretty bare already. Maybe. I don't know. I would like to. Would I?
You are the exorcist. When I am with you there is no demon. I am the best of me. When I am alone there the demon is again. And he doesn't go away until I see you again. And then I am good, I am as good as I can be, and I don't even have to try. Maybe that's the true reason I can't leave you.
And I shout that you're all fakes, and I should've seen the look on your face. I guess that's something I would say when I'm drunk. Except I say that I'm treading the thin line between loving everything and wanting to destroy everything. Except I mean it.
Listening to A Lonesome Crowded West. That's how this space is: lonesome, and crowded. Lacking in people. Overflowing with ghosts. Regrets? I never had any. So I choose to delude myself. Choose your lie. Cast your vote. And don't complain when you get what you wished for. That's right, I should not fucking complain. Ridiculous.
More drunk than I thought, am I? Should've expected that. Whatever. Played techno music in the courtyard today until the security guard came over and told us to shut it. Good enough run I guess, an entire career came and gone within two hours. I kid. I wish I knew something about the music industry. My ignorance is embarrassing and will forever be so.
Been back at school for a week already. Good enough, sustaining myself, maybe I'll actually do something soon. Only person out of the four people in this apartment not having a job. Speaking of which, our apartment is huge. I mean gigantic. It's bigger than my home in Taiwan, with one more person living here. And since all four people are hardly ever in the apartment in the same time, it's positively monstrous. Everyone who has visited has been shocked.
Here's the truth: I'll tell it because I am drunk out of my mind. You may not get the chance later, since this inebriation does not happen every day, despite what it might seem like. Appreciate it while you can. I am scared of people. I am absolutely terrified of those who seem to have no doubt in their lives. I am so goddamn petrified, in fact, that the only thing I can bring myself to do is smile, say hi, and feign confidence. Those who thrive in the poisoned lake must be monsters. Old B-movies say so.
Everyone is either drunk or asleep now. The drunk people being me. Goddamn it. People should just go lead their lives. I can't participate in this, I can't fight for my say, I'm too scared. I just hold my silence like it's the last thing I have, and somehow it is. Lead your lives. Claim your happiness. It just alienates further. Just don't let it have anything to do with me, because seriously, I want no part of it. Is that truly what I wish, to be so detached that I don't even need to acknowledge anyone even if they are closer to the conclusion than I am?
You may have your better way of living a life. I don't care. Let me stay here. Let me bake in whatever despondence I have left, because at least I know it is mine. What works for you probably won't work for me, so let me go on not working, and that way at least I'll have an excuse. Can't you at least grant a man an excuse? That's ridiculous. Don't listen to me. Now I'm just spouting pathetic confessionals because I can, and they don't mean anything, or so I think. In three or four years, I haven't changed at all. To strip the world as naked as I feel. Though it's probably pretty bare already. Maybe. I don't know. I would like to. Would I?
You are the exorcist. When I am with you there is no demon. I am the best of me. When I am alone there the demon is again. And he doesn't go away until I see you again. And then I am good, I am as good as I can be, and I don't even have to try. Maybe that's the true reason I can't leave you.
And I shout that you're all fakes, and I should've seen the look on your face. I guess that's something I would say when I'm drunk. Except I say that I'm treading the thin line between loving everything and wanting to destroy everything. Except I mean it.