I've been you before.

So I'm alone. On my couch. Upside down (no, not figuratively, my feet are over the top of it, and my hair is grazing the floor). Drinking grapefruit juice because I love the bitter aftertaste. There are few things I love and that's one of them - it's an odd taste - I love odd things.
I feel shitty today. Someone I know uses the phrase "emotionally destitute". Another person uses "non-equity". They're cute.

I had a conversation with someone from highschool today.
It went:

"So do I get to come to ny and see you in a church soon?"
" Um, sure. You should definitely visit......um, church?"
"No, silly, are you getting married anytime soon? Do I get to prepare for that?"
"OH! Ha ahahaa, noooooo nononono. I don't want to get married for awhile. I just got away from my parents. I really want to DO something with my life first, ya know?"
(pause)
" Oh, ok,totally, I totally understand. So..........what are you.....what are you DOING with your life then?"
" Nothing. Hold on a sec, I have to go kill myself."


I don't write that as a memory trapped in time, I write it as a precursor, as an explanation for my mood. Just getting it out folks.

There are so many of you. And I know exactly what it's like to be you.

O Heartbroken. I know you so well. I know your "two pennies crushed into one on the tracks" and when you said to me " Wow,you're more neurotic than I thought" I nearly killed you. Instead I smiled like Mona Lisa. I know what it's like to not be able to fuction because your heart is not in service at the moment - it's broken. Yes, I know wasting time in the name of heartbreak. I am you.

And O Hopeless, I stand in your shoes as well. You know so much about the world.Facts. Things that are run by Hatred. You are made miserable by your knowledge. Knolwedge of nine tails flays you constantly.I know and love you more than anyone, but fear you more than anything.I hate your phonecalls, but would't live if I knew for sure I would never get another one. I am slowly becoming you. I still have hope so I am not you, but that is tempered and whipsawed by confusion.
Thank you microchips and waterboarding.

O Misunderstood you asked me to grow up and treat you as a person a few months ago, since this happens to you often, and I told you being an adult wasn't my first priority. It still isn't, as adulthood leads to senility leads to death. But I know you. I still feel I owe you nothing but common courtesy. But your fingers are red and outstretched from grasping at the air in hopes that some partical of it may love you. Someday I may kiss your fingers, but I hate it when I am you.

O poet, O Restless, O Wilted believe me I know you better than anyone. You are empty and sometimes desperate to mean something, anything. It, the ever present status-quo kind of 'it', is never enough for you, and the simplest thing (like just saying "Hello") can be titanic obstacles. You are maddened by the stars. Granted.....you did just make a wish, didn't you?
It doesn't matter, I am you too.

Gotta love the company I keep. No really, I have to.

Those who have been in love with me (if I may be so bold), are probably saying " You are so ridiculous. Why aren't you happy? You could have had ME." I think I'll smile like Mona Lisa again in response to that.

Poco loco, yo.

Next blog will be hilarious.