today is a brand new day,

but i have to get up on time to hate life again tomorrow.

i'm not entirely sure that life is worth living. not just mine, any.

a loud noise. blurriness. the cold slide out of warmth, as we must feel being shoved from the womb. the cell phone alarm, the primer. right next to my head it is instinctively turned off, sometimes without being aware of it. then, something like peace again, but only for a moment. the music begins. easy at first, nothing so harsh, yet noticeable. it will be playing as consciousness intertwines with dreams. then the grand finalé. i have to get up to turn this one off. this is the one that is supposed to really wake me up, though i normally just go back and lay down. it's too cold. it's too hard being awake sometimes. eventually, after i think i can't possibly waste another moment without some sort of repercussions, i go into the shower. for a moment it too is warm and feels like a comfortable return home. but it too ends, cold, unhappy. no time for food anymore. just driving, only half trying to not ram into the person in front of me as i watch the break lights go on and off. still thinking how much better unconsciousness feels. the computer i will sit at for the next eight hours will be my only friend, lover, and enemy throughout the day. i feel more a relatitonship with it than any of the people who recite their recycled stories and respond with obvious anecdotes and stock phrases. good days and bad blend together into a miserable dance of servitude. the day closes, the sun goes down, the computer i spend my remaining conscious hours with at home is a nightly affair to the machine i use durring the day. every second of it all, i feel as little as possible. eventually this must end. it has to.

we can fly the jets. all to the moon. fueled by love. hating everything we leave behind.

her love takes hold. remembering life as it used to be, it's more like dreaming of someone else's life. there's no use in not trying for something grand. we're only going to end up ruined and broken anyways. her love is a reminder. it's something that can't slip through her fingers one day. she can't even hold it in her hand. sometimes she's not even sure it was ever there. but every now and then it grips her, like comprehending life in its entirety is almost within reach. then it slips away.

25 years later, thinking: was i always such a freak?

comments welcome.

easter is coming.

this easter, let's drink a bottle of red wine alone. again.

every day i feel more defeated.

this is a world full of people i want nothing to do with.