There is no music playing right now. It is Friday and it is late, not in the evening but in the week and this is far over due. There were thoughts that I had before and then there are thoughts that I have now. The main factor is that the sun has gone down and I am still without a drink. That is my choosing at the moment however. Well, mostly because I need to get this done first. There’s an order to things.
Now concerning that order and the last few orders that I’ve received, I haven’t received them nor do I intend to. Because I am the hero, damn it. I am the anti hero. I am and always have been the hope and destiny that has been instilled and spilled into the nuclear family. I am the shine of light, or aren’t I? If I am that, then what are you? And if you claim to be that, what does it make him into? Some sort of monster? Some sort of villain or are you the villain, or I? I would bet a dollar on me, but I’d rather drink with it. Would you have a drink with me?
Being the anti villain or hero or chump seems to have worn me out like a shoe or a nerve or something else that wears after time and is inevitably tossed away. we stand at the edge of something and I don’t know what it is but it hums and it glows and it seems to be of some grand importance or the delusion is talking again. I wonder where to go now and what to do and if another pack should be bought and I know it should because I need to stand for what has been forgotten or I will be forgotten and I can’t stand the thought as long as I live. I won’t live to see if I’m forgotten and that may very be the point in all of this.
But allow me for a moment to get angry and develop some sort of something that I know won’t do but I’ll be damned if I don’t try, try, try again. I want to hope and believe that there is justice and that I can stand for it but half of the time I spend thinking is about how benevolently evil I am which is impossible to be actually aware of. I have to wash my hands because they sweat too much and this keyboard is just plain awful and I never really learned how to type properly or effectively. Some fucking writer I am.
That was pointless. They will just continue to sweat for no reason that I am aware of. I just wanted to get up because this task is just far too daunting. I just wanted to stand and look at how grey my eyes look in the mirror. I like the idea of having grey eyes. I like the idea of having green eyes as of now, but I’d like grey someday. I used to like the idea of blue eyes but that has since gone. I’m wearing blue today, which would mean that my eyes will look more blue. I can say nothing of substance right now. My share of gold for a type writer and some whiskey and the stomach to handle it.
There’s 10 minutes left until I am going to get up and go out of this room and go where the world shall take me. I spent time with people and thought about things and I can only do that more until I figure out what it is I want or am supposed to do and if anything or any of my ideas of anything actually have some worth. I have spent my life wanting to be this lost soul cast away and aside and because of that is cursed to be the sight of intrigue for others. I wanted this and now I have to deal with it and myself. I have to show confidence when there is none by not showing my thoughts but show that I have them. I want you all to know that I spend my time thinking but I will never tell you what I actually think about because I’m ashamed and afraid. Even if you think I’ve told, I probably haven’t despite how much I talk. I don’t imagine it’s actually a very big deal, I just want to make it into one.