Was the sky as blue as it is now when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth? Did their scale-scarred eyes and fear induced insomnia witness the brights of blues and the serenity of an explosive, unexplainable sunset? Stop – I sound like such a jackass for asking this, but come on, it’s an honest question. I know the reason it’s blue and shit is because of all the light and elemental chemicals in the sky and how it curves or whatever; but really, was it the same color? As I walk down the path to Mr. Gleason’s apartment I realize that I have two hypotheses, I think that’s the right word – I sleep in biology, or at least I try to. The first h word is that nowadays there is more goddamn shit in the air like smog and crap from China, like so that we wouldn’t be able to see all of the bright colors as clearly as dinosaurs did. Wait, could dinosaurs even see colors? I hate bright colors by the way. I mean calm the fuck down. You have no right to get all up in my grill. I don’t know, I guess I don’t like it when people get too close. But I mean, back the fuck off. Jack Daniels always has it in just the right balance that way. He has his friends and his boys, but they’re all not too close. He is still shrouded in that mystery. I mean, he’s still a jackass, such an annoying prick, trying to act all cool and shit, but in the end he’s got it. One day, Jack and I were partners in Latin. I fucking hate that class. It’s a dead language, you know. Why even teach it if it’s gone? I get about the dinosaurs and how that relates, they actually lived, but dead things that never really existed like Latin, I just have no appreciation. Why appreciate - anyways, dead things cannot come back to life, at least I think. There I go again, the world energies and fuck, getting all spiritual and shit. I don’t really know what my religion is, some people are like no, once you’re gone, you’re just a bag of bones. My parents, I think, believe in Heaven and Hell. Bunch of liars and jackasses, I tell you. They all try and act all perfect and never commit sins, but we all know they’re fucking it and themselves up in the shadows. Religion, the climactic source of all energy. People should be allowed to choose. Oh, and don’t get me started with those shit eaters, you know, those kids that are strange as fuck and believe in the reincarnation stuff. They’re all high as shit. Honestly, I wouldn't know though - I mean, I’ve never smoked; I tell people I have, but I always pussy out before I get the chance. I just worry too much that I’ll do something stupid and people will see me. People don’t get second chances anymore. You have your fate and you can’t change it. Well, I mean, I don’t know. I think that fate is either fate like it is what it is, even when you think that you are changing it, fate already knows that you were about to do that and has all your mistakes planned out and all your decisions made - or its the other, darker one. Honestly, I like the first a lot more than the one that lurks in the back of my mind. It has been eating away at my brain for the past couple days. I know, its pretty lame, but its true – I’m an honest guy, really. Maybe, you can change your fate. Like work hard enough and then boom, its different. But then that would mean the rest of your life would be different. That’s not the thing that bothers me though. The fucking weird as shit shit that freaks me the fuck out, is that the two would both be the same fucking fate. You kill Bill in one, and he still dies in the other. Either way, you’re fucked. And you know, I can’t get a fucking minute to think about anything anymore. But it’s not the people around me and my room, which is always loud from the echoes and reverberations of the “neighbors” that keep me up at night. It’s inside me. I can’t fucking focus. I used to be so good at memorization. Back when we were little, my sister and I would battle each other in memory games, the states, the capitals, shit like that. Now, and ever since we both got fucked up, I cant. Obviously she still can. Three years younger and three grades above. Not really, but she might as well be. Either way I got the short end of the long stick, I think that’s the expression. I’m not short, trust me, I’m tall, probably about five eleven now. Short people got it rough though; I mean you can’t even try to change that. Your fate is fixed. They can smoke a joint or take some meds and get cancer or shit like that, but they’re still going to be fucking short as fuck. Little fuckers, I mean they all try and act cool like they got all their shit together, but you know it, you can see it in their eyes. Haha, Ruby was pretty tiny, but it’s different with girls, you know. It’s cute. The small girls always have the walk, you know. With the little Converses or whatever, and the tight jeans. "Walkers."
I had a dream. Not one where I was asleep but one of
the ones that blocks my vision and blurs my mind. It was a memory that my intellect formed from the dust that
had fucking collected in the wasteland that is my skull. Deep, I know. Sometimes it shows and cracks its way through. I fucking try and hide that shit. I actually tried to act stupid around
Ruby - told her I smoked, partied,
played three varsity sports, you know, "Jack Danieled." I even made her believe I had an alcoholism problem, all
through text and crap. I don’t
know – she was just so beautiful.
Her hair, I don’t know what its called, but it was all like choppy and
stuff, but still looked so soft, like a little store shop teddy bear. Fuck, what the hell. Anyways, I was at the beach, no it was
more like a cliff. Wish I was there now - but instead I have to tell Gleason that my fucking clock is up with the shop. A bunch of bullshit, if you ask me. Anyways, the cliffs - the stone was
rocky, rough to the touch, yet calm enough to have crests that mimicked the
arches of the waves that served as skilled sets of accompaniment to the underwater organisms. Lucky bastards - always swimming around, hidden by the thick, moist blanket of their home. Ha - Ruby hates the word moist. I'd tell her to calm down, its just a word, but scaring walkers never ends up right. Fuck - what even is right.
No comments:
Post a Comment