May 2, 2005
I wrote this treatise to my fake friend from school. It's 100% real. Alright, now we've got something. I wonder if you think this (your) story is unusual to me...it's not. I mean I definately come from a place where it was in your best interest to hide whatever it was you were feeling or whatever it was that was going on in your fucked up home. I've got stories way more "interesting" than what I've already told you. Everyone I know is hiding something. Everyone's parents' are alcoholics and/or drug addicts and at this point so are we. I've had a really weird night of true and false where I'm finally left the more sober one, rejected by the person pleading with me to leave him alone in the bathroom. And then cleaning up, like I'm at work trying to keep the crazy (drunk) person from totally losing it. Which is where I have to be in less than 7 hours, where I'm paranoid every second that I'm going to be fired for some nonsensical oversight but which pays me enough so that I only have to work a couple of days a week so I can't afford to lose it. But that still doesn't excuse the $17,000 in credit card debt or the approx. $40,000 in student loans. Did you ever see Barfly? The ridiculous movie with Mickey Rourke as Charles Bukowski? That's what my life has been like lately. Tonight I felt like I should be taking some ears of corn from someone else's garden and eating them raw... Allen and I were talking about people earlier, while drinking a bottle of jagermeister in the park. I don't say these things to sound "cool," it's just what it is. And I think for the first time we both realized through the crying that people are just fucked. I mean we knew individually, but not as a team...I feel like a freak because I guess I realize who I am. I'm not really trying to hide anything anymore, I'm not afraid of what I feel. I've been through a lot of shit but on the flip side that means other people are either afraid or jealous of what I have the capability of saying or acheiving. And that fucking pisses me off so I don't say Anything. Nobody wants to be fucking human (definition: subject to or INDICATIVE of the weaknesses, imperfections, and fragility associated with humans) anymore. If they ever did. Everyone's afraid of feeling a connection with someone else, of realizing that whoever's (i.e. Tom, DICK, or Harry's) situation isn't that different from your own, which is what I assume(d) is your problem. Where it's like if you spend any time thinking about someone else outside of yourself or immediate circle then there's something wrong or illicit going on. No. Just being a fucking human... Anyway, I've wrapped skids, received skids, called for pick ups, put skids on trucks and lost count of the number of jobs I've had in the last 12-16 years. All while being somewhat of a petulant genius that wasn't quite good enough and preferred to get high and drink wine out of a box near some covered bridge in a remote area of Chester County (I'm actually from Maryland, but very close to the PA border). Alright, so the times are a little overlapping and confused but it's all true... I'm rather jaded about the whole education thing, since I usually realize I'm smarter than most of my professors anyway and spend a lot of time rolling my eyes, I'm just much worse at articulating myself. Thank you for telling me about yourself and (please) don't hesitate to keep it up. We're all in this together Goddammit. xo, j
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6 years ago