Fuck You and Everybody Else (242 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by someone (View user info) at 2005-06-05 01:13:19 EDT
t's getting to the point now where I'm happy if I find a decent soul worth talking to beyond my social circle, a small group consisting of ten or twelve hand picked individuals. Either I'm confident that my selection process is so thorough, so precise, that I'm so delusional I think in order for an individual to associate with myself they have to pass a certain criteria that consists of music, food and various cultural references that would go right over most people's heads so that they would quit before they even had really begun. I like it like that.
I prefer being a confused elitist and shutting out people below a certain prefigured intelligence level if they can't cope with even the most intermediate of conversations.
The basis for this rant is inspired, obviously, inspired by four roommates and friends who seem to assume that mainstream post pop-punk is disgusting, revolting, yet listen to equally terrible 'underground' pop-punk with those shallow lyrics and power riffs beginners with a mediocre taste in music loathe. The result is a solitary seat in my room, with 'Out of My Mind' by Tegan and Sara playing lonely on old speakers on even older headphones. I don't need any of you. I once thought I did, the moment was high school, when soccer season equated to the popular, attractive girls in school who wanted (not you) a power seat in the preseason of life. I was starting varsity halfback and a total naive' fool, that was once when I thought life really was as simple as getting a business degree and working your way up the corporate ladder, a CEO position nearing in the horizon.
Oh, simple soul.
What went wrong?
How did I end up slugging domestic beers lonely in a small room with nothing but the mind, keeping myself company--not because I'm not wanted, but instead because I choose not to be wanted, simply because I prefer my company over most others, giving my mind time to sit in liquor pools and nicotine gardens and brood and contemplate this sad sad sad world.
Shoes sit without feet by the doorway. Remembering a very near time when Saturday nights meant college whores, drugs, wads of cash stuffed in jean pockets, bars and beers and smoky conversations with blurry--faced girls. Where did bank accounts go? Lost in ATM transactions. Lost in barroom open tabs and white powder for the nose, green smoke for the lungs and prescription pills for the stomach. Lost in party treat bedspreads for your room, where we would sit and laugh and watch television with altered minds. Where did you go since last week? A moment seems like a lifetime (and very well may be) and it seems like forever since you begged me and teased me and loved me.
I never loved you, don't worry. I was in love with stability, so don't get cocky. This isn't a plea, don't worry. I can find you a dime a dozen lying in desert sand with dollar bills for pupils. Naked, or close to it, music playing in the background as you grind and tease across time dunes and eternal ocean waves.
I'm trying not to think of you, but this alcohol is talking to the segment of the brain known as rationality, and for a second I thought of dropping inhabitation's and fear and calling you--don't worry, I won't actually do it. I'm in love with myself more then you, and therefore the result means nothing else but getting depressed, getting sad and lonely (and secretly loving every moment of it) and thinking of calling you-- but I won't act on it, like I said, don't worry.
Where did you go? I already know, don't bother stumbling over lies to try to tell me. You were looking for white lines on concrete highways, you were looking for salvation in white snow piles with dollar bills stuck up straight as plow protectors.
It really is a shame you couldn't handle self control.
I really wouldn't mind somebody loving me right now.
User Reviews
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-06-05 01:27:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I want to hear the conversaton you have with your spoon and cotton next.