Exit Stage Left

Exit Stage Left


I'm sick of the lifestyle I lead. I hate that I am still friends with past girlfriends. I hate that I want to see them every so often. It's a waste of time. I broke up with them for a reason, why am I wasting my fucking time seeing them?

I hate falling to the pressures of my phallic mind. I haven't had sex in ages. Literally ages.

For what reason? For the simple fact that I made a promise to an ex girlfriend and feel too guilty to break the promise of 'not fucking a girl unless I love her.'

How homosexual is that? I still end up hooking up with girls, why can't I give myself the pleasure of feeling complete and whole for a mere 11 minutes inside a girl?

Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK!

I don't want to see any ex-girlfriend ever again. I don't want to see any girl I have ever spent time with; except one. I wish I could forget about them. I want to move on with my life. I want to, really fucking bad.

I want to stop smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day. That's disgusting. I am sick of smelling like smoke. I am sick of smoking.

I want to finally go to school for English in a school far away from my house. I want more than anything to find myself. I feel dis-attached lately. I frequently get headaches.

I want to shave my head.
I want to grow out my hair.

Fin.

A Cup of Dull Thoughts and Two Teaspoons of Sharp Words

A Cup of Dull Thoughts and Two Teaspoons of Sharp Words

On March first, we met too fast--as well as ended all ties just as quick; I liked it though. Regardless how brief. That day my heart pounded like a drum being controlled by a voodoo doll, that still haunts me... It had happened one exuberant afternoon. My mind was lost. I didn't feel like myself that day, or ever since then. My thoughts were one big ramble. I made a collage of a lighter, out of stale matchsticks, when I was done I soaked it in gasoline, and put my cigarette butt out on it, to make it catch fire. I watched the flame flicker in the crisp midnight air. I followed the flame with my beady brown eyes as it transcended into smoke--made up of different shades of gray. That was it. It was scattered. Just gone, just like me. A startling new concept. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything, because she was everything. She was everything, she was an inconsistent giggling sensation. Made up of a precise type of beauty. I don't think I could ever really describe it into words. Let me just finish off telling you what she was like by saying she was brilliant. She made my head pregnant with thoughts of passion, I never had to disguise my amazement to her. Unfortunately, she had a very different look filled with determination to suppress all true emotions As all the others of my age group--and in this case I have no qualms about generalizing--it took me a long time to discover the sacred nature of sex. My belligerent years as a teenager that are coming to a halt soon enough, left me in a turmoil. Consistent to my age of experimental freedom, I had many great discoveries and even more excess experiences, which was followed by a period of conservatism and repression--the price to be paid for extremes that brought with them some very harsh consequences to say the least.