posted on Feb, 12 2013 @ 05:38 PM
I wrote this about a year ago now, I felt like this would be a good place to share. One day I will finish it, but for now there is a temporary ending
(I wrote it as a short-story for Uni; but many have told me I should expand it, and I have a little bit, so this version is not like the original, nor
is it the finished product). Hope you guys enjoy, I'm open to ideas, suggestions, questions, what have you.
Life can drag you down into a spiral, leaving a bitter haze in your mind, the kind that makes you want to punch a baby. I seem to spend a lot of my
time in this mood, I never use to know what anger was but I guess everyone’s mind starts fading, baggage leaving damage; a never ending vicious
cycle of wanted and unwanted change; sink or swim in your own thoughts.
My story is no sadder than anyone elses; I’m not special. I can’t stop a bullet with my face; my memory is far from photographic. I live life not
knowing if I’m crazy or sane; and too worried to get an answer because then I’d have to do something about it. The line between crazy and sane is
a hard one to draw. Harmless people who feel a little bit sad some or a lot of the time can be classed as mentally defective, something is inherently
wrong with their brain and only prescription drugs can fix their insanity. Apparently it’s completely illogical to be lost, confused, anxious,
and/or sad in today’s society, there’s no amount of rationality or talking that can save these people according to your average doctor. Then
you’ve got your serious crazies who frequently hallucinate as if they’ve been downing every mushroom they walked by, regardless of its
hallucinogenic properties. Again the solution is drugs, not talking to them or helping them come to terms with what’s happening. We load them up
with mind numbing drugs. Hoards of zombie-esque people shamble down the street not knowing what purpose they serve. Just as lost as before, twice as
Everyday it’s hammered into our brains; we’re all #ed. It’s been happening for as long as I can remember, SARS, Y2K, bird flu, swine flu, etc.
Tomorrow’s headline: ’Strange Snake Syndrome set to annihilate the planet; keep watch for snakes foaming from the eyes’. Unless 2012 gets you
first; if that fails there’s always global warming to look forward too. You better start wearing sunscreen; or maybe there’ll be a law to make
sure we wear sunscreen; similar to the seatbelt law. We need to be forced to not die. Speaking of enforcing things, I have a hard time taking law
enforcement seriously, 9 out of every 10 police officers are giant douchebags with a hard on for justice, be it stopping hitchhikers or telling people
not to consume alcohol outside and that’s about the extent of their work. There’s 4 cops in Maleny and I know for a fact that the most work they
ever do is raise revenue from someone’s bald tyres; or harassing skateboarders. The older I get the more I want to opt out of government services
and tell the whole world to leave me alone. Find a nice hill somewhere and let the eyes in my head watch the world spin round.
Finally Bob moves his fat ass out of the police car parked behind me. I’d been sitting in my car anticipating my fine for my missing headlight for
about 20 minutes. I watch in my rearview mirror as he waddles up towards my window, it’s the only bit of pleasure you can take in talking to the
police. If you show the cops any hint of personality or free thinking they will get very angry and talk over you. His fat fingers make it hard to take
the piece of paper. He stops me.
‘Let me explain this to you, you have to pay this amount by this date or else’
I can’t tell if he’s stopped for breath or forgot what the rest of the sentence was;
‘Or else what?’
‘Look mate, just wait, I’m going to explain that in a second okay? Just don’t talk over me.’
I stare at my steering wheel until he shuts his fat #ing face up; knowing whatever he’s going to say is going to be written on the fine that I will
avoid reading for the next month. Eventually he stops talking either because he realizes I’m not listening or because he’s out of # to say. I grab
the fine, say thanks and wish the officers a wonderful evening. The funny part is, I’ll be driving home drunk later and I just know neither of these
guys will be there to catch me. I never get caught for doing any of the many illegal things I do, I’ve only been caught for: not stopping at a stop
sign for 3 seconds, not having a p-plate displayed and now my headlight; never the bags of drugs in the back, or the intoxicated driver.
I drive onward toward a party that I’m really not in the mood for; but go because there’s nothing else to do. However, I did look forward to the
alcohol that would soothe the rage in my head telling me to do bad things to Bob’s house. My friend in the car; Jude tries his best to cheer me up,
it doesn’t work.
We get to the party, my friends quite popular in the area, he’s greeted with hugs while I stand aside watching on, slightly envious only because I
could use a hug. Plus it’s dark and I can imagine whoever I want holding me in their big strong man arms. Finally a tall, lanky man named John hugs
me, long tall Sally in my imagination. I stumble further into the darkness, finally we can see the house. It’s big, there’s a lot people I know
but don’t really know. So I drink, and drink, next thing I know I’m wasted and everyone’s asleep, I stumble around the house trying to find
signs of life before eventually passing out on the floor.
Jude wakes me at 6 AM, I stole his blanket in my sleep apparently. I stand up and realize it was a bad idea. I’m still drunk. Jude guides me toward
food and car, first food, we walk to McDonald’s. It’s a quick walk because I’m rambling drunken non-sense. We eat and then I stumble back
outside, coffee in hand. I spot a tree, and take some frustration out on it, I’m not sure why; but the tree and I had become quite intertwined, a
cyclists cycles by, yelling something at me, something insulting, and I knew it. I pulled myself out of the tree and set chase to the cyclist, I
didn’t stand much of a chance so as my last act of defiance I hurled my coffee in his direction; it didn’t make the distance though.
Soon enough I spot my car, “I am the walrus” written on the back; I like the Beatles and my car sounds a bit like a dying walrus so it’s a match
made in heaven. I feel around in my pockets, Jude waits impatiently on the passenger side. My heart rises to my throat, I know this feeling.
Something’s terribly wrong.
‘I seem to have misplaced my keys’