(no subject)
Title: "Confusion in our hearts"
Chapter III
Eventually we got home. I walked into the living room, crashed on the couch, closing my eyes, trying to drive myself away from the reality. Ville said he needs to take a shower so he left me on my own.
Take a good look around, Bam fucking Margera cause this is how it’s going to be. This is how you’re going to feel. You can fuck yourself, your money and your fame for you’ll be alone. Completely alone. Like a deserted island.
Who do you have in your life? Friends? The people who lick you’re idiotic ass because they want to appear in some shitty show? People who talk behind your back what kind of moron you are? He’s the only friend you have, the only person who sees you as a man, as a normal living being. Yeah, normal, cause he has no idea how sick you are.
Girlfriend? Sure, I remember I had one for a few years until several months ago. She left me, because I was too occupied amusing Ville, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. Thank you for that Jenn. That brought Ville’s and mine relationship on a higher level. We got another thing in common.
We were joking how we both got dumped by our long-term girlfriends we were madly in love with. Well, at least one of us was.
Ville thought I must be feeling like shit so he was sympathetic. That’s when he started to make jokes again, thinking how now he has to comfort me like I did for him. He pushed his sadness in the corner and tried really hard to pull me out of the depression he was thinking I got in because of Jenn. To speak the truth I was depressed because of the stupid show, but I liked the change in him. So I played along without saying a word.
“You know, I don’t understand women at all, Bam. At all,” He was mumbling one day when we’ve decided to get drunk celebrating our new state of freedom.
“I mean, they say they only want your heart, and how the only thing that matters is you to love them, right?” - he was making an introduction to another interesting story of his. I nodded.
“And you give your heart and what they do? They bury you. But you’re so stupid to admit that, right?” - he was looking at me waiting for a confirmation.
“You’re so right man, so right. But then it’s not enough, they want more, right?” I was trying to encourage him so he could make another “brilliant” theory about love. He loves to do that, especially when he’s drunk as shit.
“Exactly! They make you meet their family and friends, love all that shitty girlish things they’re so fond of. And then, one day you just wake up in your house all decorated in flowers and shit and some grumpy creature, who just reminds you of your beautiful girlfriend, with messy hair is shouting at you, threatening she’ll leave you if you don’t pick up your dirty clothes and put them in the fucking basket,” he was rambling.
“Don’t forget the little monsters,” I interrupted smiling a bit.
“Yeah, suddenly brats are all over your house, calling you daddy, while you’re still feeling like a fucking teenager yourself,” he paused a bit.
“But how do we get there? How come they get us into all that shit?” I asked waiting for another “miraculous product” of his “deep thinking”.
“Because we’re too stupid to realize, it’s not about having your heart. It’s all about dick. They’re just speaking metaphorically, you know. They just want your dick to take your sperm so they could have kids and bound you to themselves, you know. But we’re fucking emotional fools so we fall for their sweet words. But trust me, it’s all about dick,” he ended taking another sip of beer.
“So, if I got it right, then it’s wrong to say “My heart is bleeding” or “You’re broken my heart”, you should say “My dick is bleeding” and “You’re broken my dick”,” I was trying to encourage him to talk more.
“Exactly!” he agreed grinning.
“That’s why I like homosexuals. They don’t have those problems, you know. They are free to give their dicks, not worrying about impregnating another person. And it’s 100% fair exchange dick for dick. They’re so fucking lucky. And we the straight ones, treat them like shit and think they’re stupid or retarded, while when you think a bit about everything, they’re geniuses,” he was nodding looking at me in a way “you know I’m right. Think about it.”
“Ville Valo you’re so full of bullshit man. I really admire you for the way your drunken brain works. Thank God for that, cause if it wasn’t for it, I would be dying of boredom.”
I was laughing looking at him trying to be serious, while he laid in the bed leaned on one hand, with curls all over his face, bear and fag in one hand, covered in ash falling down, because he couldn’t be arsed to take an ashtray. He knows I’ll give it to him at the end.
Just looking at him like that with the serious expression on his face, lips a bit pouted, his eyes trying to tell you “I’m not joking. I’m serious” is enough to make your day.
“Maybe it is crap, but maybe I should give it a serious thought,” he said vaguely.
“Think about what?” I asked a bit confused.
“About becoming a gay,” he calmly replied, looking at me like he really meant that.
That line got stucked in my head. It was constantly repeating itself on and on and I couldn’t stop it. Yeah Bam, he did say that, but he’s not the one who kissed you. He’s not that perverted idiot who got on top of his motionless body, while he was passed out numb to the world around him. You are!
“I feel like raped,” came back to me in the flash of the light, with the paranoid, lost expression on his face, eyes furiously looking everywhere around. Oh Ville, you’re right. You were raped. You just don’t know it was me, fucking, sick, degenerated bastard you call your best friend. And I’m nothing but a coward for not having guts to admit it.
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I'm doing my best, waiting for your comments
Chapter III
Eventually we got home. I walked into the living room, crashed on the couch, closing my eyes, trying to drive myself away from the reality. Ville said he needs to take a shower so he left me on my own.
Take a good look around, Bam fucking Margera cause this is how it’s going to be. This is how you’re going to feel. You can fuck yourself, your money and your fame for you’ll be alone. Completely alone. Like a deserted island.
Who do you have in your life? Friends? The people who lick you’re idiotic ass because they want to appear in some shitty show? People who talk behind your back what kind of moron you are? He’s the only friend you have, the only person who sees you as a man, as a normal living being. Yeah, normal, cause he has no idea how sick you are.
Girlfriend? Sure, I remember I had one for a few years until several months ago. She left me, because I was too occupied amusing Ville, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. Thank you for that Jenn. That brought Ville’s and mine relationship on a higher level. We got another thing in common.
We were joking how we both got dumped by our long-term girlfriends we were madly in love with. Well, at least one of us was.
Ville thought I must be feeling like shit so he was sympathetic. That’s when he started to make jokes again, thinking how now he has to comfort me like I did for him. He pushed his sadness in the corner and tried really hard to pull me out of the depression he was thinking I got in because of Jenn. To speak the truth I was depressed because of the stupid show, but I liked the change in him. So I played along without saying a word.
“You know, I don’t understand women at all, Bam. At all,” He was mumbling one day when we’ve decided to get drunk celebrating our new state of freedom.
“I mean, they say they only want your heart, and how the only thing that matters is you to love them, right?” - he was making an introduction to another interesting story of his. I nodded.
“And you give your heart and what they do? They bury you. But you’re so stupid to admit that, right?” - he was looking at me waiting for a confirmation.
“You’re so right man, so right. But then it’s not enough, they want more, right?” I was trying to encourage him so he could make another “brilliant” theory about love. He loves to do that, especially when he’s drunk as shit.
“Exactly! They make you meet their family and friends, love all that shitty girlish things they’re so fond of. And then, one day you just wake up in your house all decorated in flowers and shit and some grumpy creature, who just reminds you of your beautiful girlfriend, with messy hair is shouting at you, threatening she’ll leave you if you don’t pick up your dirty clothes and put them in the fucking basket,” he was rambling.
“Don’t forget the little monsters,” I interrupted smiling a bit.
“Yeah, suddenly brats are all over your house, calling you daddy, while you’re still feeling like a fucking teenager yourself,” he paused a bit.
“But how do we get there? How come they get us into all that shit?” I asked waiting for another “miraculous product” of his “deep thinking”.
“Because we’re too stupid to realize, it’s not about having your heart. It’s all about dick. They’re just speaking metaphorically, you know. They just want your dick to take your sperm so they could have kids and bound you to themselves, you know. But we’re fucking emotional fools so we fall for their sweet words. But trust me, it’s all about dick,” he ended taking another sip of beer.
“So, if I got it right, then it’s wrong to say “My heart is bleeding” or “You’re broken my heart”, you should say “My dick is bleeding” and “You’re broken my dick”,” I was trying to encourage him to talk more.
“Exactly!” he agreed grinning.
“That’s why I like homosexuals. They don’t have those problems, you know. They are free to give their dicks, not worrying about impregnating another person. And it’s 100% fair exchange dick for dick. They’re so fucking lucky. And we the straight ones, treat them like shit and think they’re stupid or retarded, while when you think a bit about everything, they’re geniuses,” he was nodding looking at me in a way “you know I’m right. Think about it.”
“Ville Valo you’re so full of bullshit man. I really admire you for the way your drunken brain works. Thank God for that, cause if it wasn’t for it, I would be dying of boredom.”
I was laughing looking at him trying to be serious, while he laid in the bed leaned on one hand, with curls all over his face, bear and fag in one hand, covered in ash falling down, because he couldn’t be arsed to take an ashtray. He knows I’ll give it to him at the end.
Just looking at him like that with the serious expression on his face, lips a bit pouted, his eyes trying to tell you “I’m not joking. I’m serious” is enough to make your day.
“Maybe it is crap, but maybe I should give it a serious thought,” he said vaguely.
“Think about what?” I asked a bit confused.
“About becoming a gay,” he calmly replied, looking at me like he really meant that.
That line got stucked in my head. It was constantly repeating itself on and on and I couldn’t stop it. Yeah Bam, he did say that, but he’s not the one who kissed you. He’s not that perverted idiot who got on top of his motionless body, while he was passed out numb to the world around him. You are!
“I feel like raped,” came back to me in the flash of the light, with the paranoid, lost expression on his face, eyes furiously looking everywhere around. Oh Ville, you’re right. You were raped. You just don’t know it was me, fucking, sick, degenerated bastard you call your best friend. And I’m nothing but a coward for not having guts to admit it.
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