Tag Archives: sad

It’s funny (odd)…

how…
people tend to weave in and out of our lives like crochet needles making more itchy knots
some people mean more to us than others, especially when we mean nothing to them
a JERK can command our deepest sympathies and respect, even a supercilious asshole bastard
a beautiful being can kill us with kindness, because we secretly want to be cultivated with sadist animosity
we love and hate ourselves, both so equally interchangeable we can’t decide if our friends are our enemies or our enemies are our allies
we understand more everyday and feel less
we feel more when we feel less, because we open up more and all we thought we felt was just nervous excitement

How…
terrible it is to speak and we can’t shut up, especially when we have nothing to say, we want to be heard
misunderstood we feel and we continue to misunderstand others in turn
lonely we are and we continue to make walls to fall deeper and deeper into bitter enthronement
our cats want to shit on our beds when we ignore them (our kittens anyway, cats are too dignified)
happy and sad we can feel in a month, an hour, a minute
we can want to be with someone and yet fear it at the same time, because then we will be discovered, and we haven’t yet discovered ourselves
we hate our lives and yet never want to die or grow old, they just keep ticking away and all our dreams get fuzzy
age scares us in every moment, even if we’re not aware of it, because we still want to do something special
influential architecture and interior design are on a subconscious level, like film directors creating a set to spark the imagination and create feelings
the way one talks is often more important than what one talks about, and how we look into each other’s eyes

How…
quickly romantic love morphs into resolute distaste, aversion to what we thought we knew and wanted, distaste for how it begins to want us back
blind self-hate is when it looks at itself in the mirror, and thinks it’s in love
clarifying a reunion can be with a friend, remembering thoughts you’ve had, and seeing a future boosted from the past
simple true love is, when recognized and nurtured, in balance with solitude and respect
complicated it all appears when we want drama, we cease to accept silence, we poke and burn and destroy
funny, sad, and odd to feel alive in this incomprehensible world, growing less comprehensible by the moment…

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Just a bunch of gobbledeegoop…

In the beginning there was man. He talked a lot about his Transformer collection, and memorized quotes from the Big Lebowski or Nietzsche, depending on his daily leanings and mood, in order to impress his friends. And then he met a girl and she was heartbroken over a guy. He thought maybe he could help this girl feel better, and he liked how sad she felt next to him. And so he followed her around like a labradoodle. And then the girl became happy, and she made impossibly witty jokes with a straight face that could confuse people because she looked really sweet but she was downright caustic at times. But he liked it a lot and they lived happily ever after baking cookies, and talking about their dreams to make a darkroom, travel cross country to ghost towns interviewing redneck ranchers and diner waitresses, and try new sexual positions together. But this only lasted for a very short time because soon she was too happy and he saw another girl that was sad like this girl had been, smiling sweetly and nearly completely mute because it was so physically exhausting to be sad that talking was too much of an ordeal for her mouth. And so the guy started to fall in romantic love with the second girl, and I only say romantic love because it wasn’t obviously real love. Because real love doesn’t just transport itself from one girl to another the second aforementioned original sad girl starts to tell jokes and smile for real. It was only in this romantic love state that the Jung and Nietzsche and Osho and Blake quoting guy could stand up proud and say he was going to save another girl, like a knight, with a white horse, and shiny armor. But he stood and his zipper was unzipped, and he was embarrassed. And he took the new girl by the hand but her hand was clammy. And the original sad girl was sad again, so much so that she couldn’t form a sentence, and her eyes shone sparkly in the sun like pools of tears gathered between trees of lashes; and sad girl number two was too happy to even notice that the boy was unbearably discontent, like a horse with a barrel of bananas instead of carrots. And so there was man and being as he could never be happy with what he had man was eternally disappointed, and couldn’t think of a thing new to say that could impress even himself because all of the new movies had bad dialogue and relied on CGI effects to make them worth their insane ticket prices…and everything else had been written in real books with wisdom, but looked cheap in Kindles and therefore couldn’t be oralized with any gumption whatsoever. It was a really sad conclusion to man who as a boy had dreamt of meeting a strong happy girl, and as a boy had wanted to hold her hand as an equal, an artist, a lover, as a man.

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