This is an effort to hone in on a point. Must I always fail? Just about, yes.
I have no time to write it— it’s a ramble. A ramble that will dig the hole deeper.
If you think this is just a joke… ooohh, boy (or girl) you are in trouble.
My writing (not writing style*)—not to mention
prev. post—may piss some people off;
this blog is an ugly one. (And I’m an ugly one, have no doubt.)
Easy: just a few clicks away from deleting it…
I’m almost an expert on that oscillation.
Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn’t. (Pathetic? Pathetic.)
Always wondering what may hurt someone. (Fourteen-year-olds are reading.)
It’s not necessarily good that I’m doing this.
Because I am pushing limits.
I am teetering on insanity.
Like Tom Hanks on that island, alone, having to talk to a ball.
I am alone.
Bastard. Why do I have to mention my aloneness again?
Because it’s true.
Shut up, brain.
What does that tell you, telling your own brain to be silent?
I’ve listened to you tell me lies for far too long; I need to listen to my heart.
Lies? Do you know how that sounds?
Your heart? All I hear is Bwl-hm, Bwl-hm. It’s a muscle.
I’m talking affection, love— these things are supposed to lie in you!
Coming from a self-avowed ass.
Oh, yeah? What have you said that isn’t crap?
You don’t listen to me when you need me. The same for others.
Oh, so what have you been telling me? The square root of 10 is about 3.162?
And what others?
You push that computation as an alternative. I don’t make you a nerd. You do.
Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, then? I’m stuck talking to you.
Maybe if you talked to others, directly, then something will happen.
Who? My mother? She doesn’t listen or care. I can’t remain stuck with you.
You’ll be stuck with only me if you don’t talk.
[mocking] Before it’s too late.
You believe everything will come crashing down on December 21, right?
Hey— F*ck you, brain! You know things will be financially bombing!
Oh, now the language. Remember when ‘mom’ put soap in your mouth?
Don’t talk about my mother, c***.
Oh, now you’re calling me a hermaphrodite?
You call me apathetic when I really need support!
Again, who do I talk to? Everyone I manage— they turn away.
Just do it. Otherwise you’ll believe this nonsense for eternity.
[groan] Yes. Yes. If only I had confidence instead of myopia.
And only if I tried to make beautiful things come out of my ugly mouth.
Again, as ‘pathetic’ as you sound, you don’t use me, your brain.
In the mean time, you could think about your future, clean yourself up.
What future?! I could never see “a future” since my teen years.
And how the hell could I not have friends at this point, anyway?
You don’t go anywhere. You don’t put in the effort. You don’t seek peers—
—Yes, I’d already gotten that. A long time ago.
You do have me.
Um, isn’t that…I don’t know, selfish?
‘Selfish’ is carrying out plans of ego in spite of advice.
Oh, now you’re capable of getting that out in one sentence?
If you didn’t deprive me of sleep, I might do a better job at everything.
Oh, that reminds me: it’s 5 a.m. I should turn in. Sorry for calling you a c***.
I know why you did. I know everything you know. After all, I am your brain.
[disgust] Oh, gahd. What am I putting out here?
You have a knack for writing.
And WTF does ‘knack’ mean?! No, don’t tell me; I know what it means, but…
I can’t see that any of this helps anyone.
(And I did re-look up ‘knack’ in the dictionary.)
* What writing style? Can’t you tell by now I’m not a blogger?!
Trash is not a style! …I guess it can be…but that’s not the intention.
Dammit, I answered another question that could’ve been answered by a comment.
…Nah, my “readers” don’t comment.
I guess this means good-bye, then. —No, no. Yes? I don’t know.
I don’t have The Crazy™. I am crazy.
Addendumb: Okay, so I’m not that crazy. A stale reference got left unchanged. My perspective on life has changed over the week, though.