There's a saying I believe that goes something like "The feeding pasture is vast, keeping your eyes down will help you avoid the turds, but you will never find the gate. Do the opposite, you reach the gate faster but then you'll need to wash your shoes" or so...
I wonder where will I be at the exact moment, 1 year from now. I'll let you know next year.
You know how it feels like to want something or someone so bad, but you know that, that something or someone is bad for you. How you always ended up cursing at yourself everytime things fucked up between you and that someone but when you're alone, you started cursing yourself for letting that someone or something go? It's such a pretty shitty feeling.
I wish feeling are like some body parts that you can cut without side-effects. Like tonsils or appendix. Yeah. That'll be great.
Dont worry ( just yet), I'm way past mixing vodka with orange juice (more vodka than orange juice please) or burning myself with ciggies or stitching patterns onto my skin or piercing holes just for kicks... That's for pussies. I have bigger plan for myself.
Then there's the option of donating body parts... The problem is... They wont take living, breathing person. I guess I'm not quite ripe for the picking.
And this stress-without-a-real-cause is making me crazy. I think I am. I can be talkative to the extant that people around me will look at me sideways and think that I'm on drugs or stoned or drunk when I'm not...
Then I'd be so miserable beyond words. Somewhere between these two extremes, lies a gray spot where people sees me. Some kind of public perception of myself.
It's like having different people living inside the same body with unscheduled appearances of the wrong identity at the right time.
I'm old. But not that old. I challenge anyone to remember far, far back into their childhood. A journey to the back of ones' mind is like, well, a journey. It's like redecorating your wall and then realising you don't really fancy the end product, you tear things apart and start all over again. Not many people have the chance to do it, let alone to do it over and over again. Even too many layers of fresh paint will look ugly. Just like everything else in life, too much of something is never a good thing.
I am feeling strong and weak at the same time. Dead and alive. I'm halfway there. We all are.
If I can choose, to grow old and bitter, or die young and bitter... The choice is obvious... Long live teen suicide.
Life is just a bad horoscope that people don't care to read or misread.
Let's turn back time and reflect the signs. Let's go back to the time when I was younger and fell for that certain someone who happens to be a Pisces- a lying promiscuous ungrateful subperson. Aries- an unreliable charmer. Capricorn- Living on air, too dreamy, self-destructive, suicidal. Taurus- Kiss and tell to the whole world. Gemini- a sadist. Scorpio- nips at one end and stings on the other end. Cancer- might as well be alone, enough said. Leo- he/she doesn't need a lover, the new japanese sexbot will suit them fine. Virgo - Dont ever believe someone who claims he/she is (still) a virgin. Sagittaurus - a tease, all talk and no play. Aquarius - boring. Libra - So and so, but plain to look at, let alone to talk about.
So there, I've ultimately revealed that I've screwed at least 12 people. A complete set of the horoscope.
Am I happy with that? Hell no... But in the search for the right person, one can be forgiven to have some fun with all the wrong ones. Next, I think I''ll be taking a look (and then some) at the chinese horoscope.
As I said, my car, my dick, my life, my blog, my fuckin business.
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