my freedom lies in the fantasies of a generation that lost it's way ten thousand years ago in the crucible of the big bang when nothing and everything were there and drank three beers together at the local bar. and I found that in that time I was drunk on something that I never seen before and I wish that I could stay here in their eyes but I have to move on and I don't really remember where I parked the car and so I wander in the parking lot of Wal-Mart waiting for salvation and the designated driver to come take me away but I know that he's not coming only cuming and I'm not responsible for that either. and where is the future certainly not here or there and I can't see much anymore because my eyes have gone bad from reading too many web comics where the hero always wins even if they don't deserve it and I wonder sometimes where the villainy begins and if anyone ever considered their childhood while their burning them alive. where was their redemption? probably where I left the car. and I watch the laughing man but he isn't funny unless you consider terrorism funny which no one does these days and was jd salinger really all that brilliant or did he simply put on paper what the rest of us were thinking and if so, where the hell is my Pulitzer? whiny little boys and ditzy little girls will get together and it won't matter in 20 years anyway, just a story you try to hide from your teenage daughter so that she doesn't make the same mistakes you did you know, bob, or whoever your mistake was. and my mistake was being here or being at all I am the child that shouldn't exist the abortion that should have happened and I'm floating in obscurity with a family that doesn't really care, but they like how I look in chains. and sex is such a funny thing a right of passage and a dirty sin should I hire a hooker or just become one? and the homos are getting married and heteros are getting divorced and maybe we're all wrong after all and marriage is just an illusion of a relationship you wish you had but in reality you'd rather screw the pool boy while your husband bangs his assistant his male assistant. and I'm ashamed of me and you and all of us after all what the hell have we done that's so important? and I'm tired of apologizing and sorry is such a cheap word these days anyway and why why why can't I just say FUCK YOU to those who deserve it and I'm tired off lying and cheating even when it's really the truth and I might die tomorrow and I might plan it that way but before I do I have to see a dentist about this tooth and what does one wear to one's funeral anyway? and I'm swirling but not in the good way and pot is only good for nothing and I wish I could get high bring me another mai tai please. slurring sounds like a good idea right now. and I'll be 21 soon enough but I've been old for eight years now and I'm aging too fast and I'll probably be 80 next week, but at least I won't have to chew food anymore liquid steak anyone? and my leg hurts from sitting on it but I can't move because they will get me who? the people who knew I wasn't good enough the from the start. oh god why the hell am I still here? this doesn't make sense anymore but it never did and I wish it did but I'm almost done and the potty beckons with it's filth cover insides so much like mine I've failed you again darling I hope you can forgive me because after all your the only one who can give me redemption.
Ramble ramble, oh why are you listening? by Not Quite Real
Fiction » Essay Rated: M, English, Poetry & Angst, Words: 707, Published: 2/14/2006