judgery (douchebaggery)

if you are my friend you would not judge me. you would not laugh about me behind my back. your perfect little life may be perfect for you, and that's brilliant, but maybe we don't all think the same. we don't need to live the same. it's funny how people who profess themselves to be open minded have so much to say about how someone else chooses to live their life. maybe if you really gave a fuck, you'd ask me why i make the decisions i do, the choices i do, instead of talking about it when i'm not there and then pretending the conversation never happened when i am there. maybe you shouldn't talk shit on someone elses past mistakes when you've all made so many of your own. and maybe if you really did respect me, and know i'm not an idiot then you'd trust i can take care of myself. it's fucking sad that putting someone else down can make you feel better about you. look inside, acknowledge your own faults before you point out someone elses..and you know what? if you feel that strongly that a person is beneath you, maybe you should tell them to their face, or at least not smile in it while shoving a knife in their back. 

fuckery

i can't get this music loud enough and this beer is warm. miss misery wants company...

i can't do this unless i'm stuck inside my head unless i'm stuck in adolescent emotionalism. 

i claim this blog in the name of immaturity!!!!! my ocd makes me type 5 exclamation points!!!!!

it's not as if i have nothing. i have things. i have more than most. i thank baby jesus in his little diaper every fucking day for what i have. i want to learn japanese flower arranging. i want to learn to look at you and feel nothing, not even hate. i want to be your biggest regret. 

words on a screen. everything is so fucking impersonal. phone calls begat texting begat emails. less and less connected with every fucking connection!!!!! as long as we don't have to look at each other in 3 dimensions, we don't have to really LOOK! do we??? memories are flat and dull and we wouldn't have it any other way. 

just know this: you are only a distraction. to keep me from feeling any real hurt. 

late tuesday/early wednesday: disturbing phone conversation. disturbing even to me, so drunk i could barely move. i claim i will be on a plane in the morning. you don't believe me. i don't believe me. 5 hours later i am puking in the richmond airport bathroom. then i'm on a plane. 3 tylenol pm's at 8 in the morning. i honestly believe i am going to die on that plane. there are no words to describe how much i fucking hate flying. 

90 minutes later im at jfk. i buy a book. i sit on a filthy floor. i wonder what the fuck i am doing. i can't eat or sleep and i get on the next plane. almost 6 terrifying, bumpy, hours later i land in slc. 

i am shaking.

a cigarette.

a cheeseburger with pastrami on it. 

i am shaking less. 

there's a shower, a change of clothes. after 15 unanswered phone calls throughout the day, a text message. 

am i there yet?

i am.

i imagined that moment a billion times. 

5 years seemed like 5 minutes. barely. 

we should've gone to vegas. or at least the tattoo shop. 

less than 48 hours, to open wounds i forgot i had. 

questioning my decision to come. maybe i just made it worse. 

it was worth it. 

8 am. i meant every word. 

walking out that door into the taxi was the worst moment of my life. there was only one reason i did it, and you know. you have the same one. 

i thought maybe there would be closure. but not even close. 

i hope you don't get pinkeye.

you may have seen every inch of my skin

every scar

every story

and miles apart on a few feet of sheets and sweat

you sleep

and i search

you sleep and i watch

those bottles of glass and plastic hold no comfort for me

and neither do you

stuck

this mess you made with your eyes

and your hands

i hold it now

and not one fleeting thought 

i never was, not in your way

my forehead burned where your mouth was for a moment

you were never really there

until

you saw the back of my head under the lights of the highway

you couldn't drive fast enough 

but i got you there

even if it wasn't really me

this scenery is different but it sounds the same. there aren't so many tourists or mountains, but there are still plenty of empty smiles and a never-ending  stream of words strung together just so you can hear yourself talking. an expert on everything in your own mind, making the mundane life or death for the sake of argument. years and years have gone by, and the mirror shows me more wrinkles but i'm not sure they've brought wisdom. we are all grayer to the eye, on the surface, but beneath, some of us are the same. stuck. fingers in ears, "lalalalalalalalalalalala"...

funny thing is, it's those you're so critical of, those you see yourself so far above, those are the ones who really see you. all the things you're trying to hide, and the ones you don't bother hiding anymore. it's too bad you can't seem to figure out, there is a freedom that comes with letting go. think of what you could accomplish with all that energy you're wasting trying to impress everyone. noone is impressed. unintentional douchebaggery is never impressive. embrace the douche. give reality a big hug. swallow the truthiness, and try not to choke. 

ode to josh beckett

you are a goddamn sexy bitch. 

that's all i got.