Ok... break it down. A lot of this peice was tooken from real life. I think that's what makes it so great. Because it's so fucking true.
If I talked to a girl, I wouldn't know what to say
"You look like a horse." "NO! I mean that in a GOOD way!"
"Would you like to see some pictures I drew? Specificly of you?
Yeah about those tentacles, oh I drew those too."
Take this peice for example. There is actually a girl in my school who looks like a horse. And I really think she's hot. In my mind at least, she's one of those cowgirl kinda girls. (Which sucks because with the exception of a horses drug habits in regards to psychoactive experiences when eating sleepy grass, I know nothing about horses. And she loves horses.)
And y'know what else? I also drew pictures of her. She's a bitch to draw, but she has such a unique face, it's quite amazing really. She has squinty eyes and a sharp round nose... and well... I ended up drawing various pictures of her involving her turning into a horse, a centaur, and being raped by tentacles.
This part of the peice was ment to express what would happen if I were to actually bring this up. It's mostly left to the imagination, because when I first met her I had no idea she liked horses so much, and I never knew how she would've responded if I were to have said that.
I have a few thoughts in my head. Being in love, being dead.
And thoughts of regret for words I have yet to of said
What I do know, is that I need to watch what I say, because I may end up regretting it later on. And I say what I think, and I think of some pretty wack scheiße.
Each time I look for love, it is in the wrong place
Either internet websites, or screams towards outer space
My love is such a twisted thing, eternally spiralling down
Because it starts in such bliss, and has nowhere to go but down
I don't suppose anyone else has tried to find love over the internet? I've actually found it. But it's not a romantic love. It's more or less this middle aged suburbanite woman who I deeply love, care for, and admire despite everything that's wrong with her. It's not romantic. But it's love. And then I completly lost contact with her. Which I'm glad. Because if I'd kept communing with her, I know it would've ended up pretty shitty. My only hope is that she didn't kill herself.
As for outer space... have you ever sought love in the heavens? I have. And I've found it. I found it in Jesus Christ. I found it in our Mother Goddess. I found it the all encompassing omnipotent Divine being that brings to me unconditional love. Even if, it's all in my imagination. It's still comforting. Of course, I don't feel it the same way now as I did before. And I think that's a problem, because it means it's deteriorating.
That's why when I fantasize, it starts with hugs and kisses
And then goes onto cum on her face, and it just gets more twisted
So I sodomize her ass, with a strap-on she violates mine
And I can't continue these thoughts, in monosyllabic rhyme
How can I explain that other than... now you know what I do after going to this site and checking my email and DL'ing any files I need and whatnot. I have no fetishes of course, my sexual pallete tastes covers a wide variety of things. It's just more recently that bukkake and mutual hermaphrodite anal have been on my mind quite a bit.
Of course, I have no shame in admitting that. Hell, if a guy doesn't have a wide variety of sexual tastes, then there is probably something wrong with him. Or at least that's the impression I get from spending one too many seconds in the boys locker room.
As I lay awake in bed at night cuddling and
Crying into one of my pillows, I ponder for a moment
All the moments that in a moment made my life
What it is today. If I wasn't so shy I could have
Talked to that girl, and the one I did talk to
I should have gotten her number. And for that
Girl who's number I got I should have called.
And to the girl I did call, I'm sorry I hanged
Up so abruptley. I must've had a panic attack.
Sonofabitch. I actually have found myself cuddling my pillow. It's sickining.
As for the parts with the girls... a lot of that is years and years ago. I'd meet this girl and she'd talk to me for god whatever reason he knows, and I couldn't talk back. I was shy. (Of course I'm not shy anymore, I'm a fucking upstaging attention whore.) And when I was able to talk to a girl, that's about all there was to it. Once I had a girls number, but I never talked to her. In fact, I've had like the numbers to four girls. Only one of them I called. And I hanged up on her rather abruptley and it was quite embarrasing for me to see her at school the next day. I had a panic attack. It was one of my first. And I've had quite a few more since. Socializing is NOT my strong suite. (There is however a difference between socializing and entertaining. Entertaining people is how I'm able to get through school day by day by sharpening my wit so I can tell a dumb joke at the drop of a dime.)
Maybe I wasn't built for love. Wasn't designed for it.
Personally, I have trouble believing in any other conclusion. I think my mission in life is to do nothing more than take care of my pets and my grandmother until they die. Afterwords, I will be incapable of taking care of myself due to the fact I never learned the most basic things in life. (Such as applying for a job, buying a car, cooking something that doesn't go into the microwave, renting a house, cleaning a house, etc. etc.)
I have on of two hopes. One, I meet a girl (Or a guy... when one's life is on the line, beggars can't be choosers.) who's willing to have a backwords relationship wherein she has the career, and I'll be the stay at home dad.
Or two, I become a famous entertainer of some sort and have enough money in which I won't need to take care of myself. Maybe write a book, maybe be a comedian, maybe a musician, maybe an actor, maybe even a pro-wrestler. Why not a pro-wrestler? Every famous American Samoan I know is a pro-wrestler. Just because I have next to no endurance means nothing, right?
Or maybe I should just straighten up and fly right and get a real job? I have no job, no car, no prospects, nothing at all to contribute to society. Yeah, I have a book I want to write. I want to publish a novel about love, and life, and how perserverance for a worthy cause can defeat even the most apathetic of spirits bringing into a person a sense of purpose and a cause to fight for.
But how can I write about such a thing, when I myself am an apathetic spirit who has no sense of purpose and a cause to fight for? This isn't a fucking comic book or a cartoon show. Y'know if I ever have kids I'm going to seriously limit what they watch on tv. I am shocked every day that I have any muscle on me whatsoever. It's probably genetic since my dad was a skinny jew, but the amount of junk food I eat and the amount of time I spend in front of the television and computer... goddamn I am a real American. So why aint I fat? I know if I have kids I aint going to let them be in the same position as me. I'm going to teach them fucking Bushido and Ninjitsu. Any kid of mine'll be like a Ninja Turtle. Whoo-Pah!
But for reals. It's all tied in together. My inability to get close to anyone in real life. The fact that I know I am capable of love, even if it's not romantic. My current sense of purpose in life which is measured in numbered days by my grandmothers life span. My only ability which is entertainment, the only thing which can get me through the stress and the fear that stems from interacting with humans on a day to day basis. My inability to write what I don't know, and my ability to write what I do know with no shame.
And y'know what else? I sit here... typing this... and that fucking smilie is pissing me off.
This one:
It's pissing me off.
Hm... y'know what happened to me today? I got called good looking. At lunch, at school, I was standing there doing nothing. Waiting for one of my friends to leave school grounds so I can bum a smoke from him like the fiend I am. And this girl who I guess I'm friends with was standing with me. (It's strange, for once I can't find a single person who hates me. In fact, everyone either likes me or is indifferent about me. It's the best I could ever have hoped for at school.)
Anyway, she's a bugger. She's weird. She reminds me of me when I was young and immature. She gets sent outta the class for talking to much and making inappropriate comments. (Actually, I still do make inappropriate comments, I just make sure the teacher can't hear.) And all in all, is behavior that isn't that far off from mine before I decided to act mature.
And she was looking at me. Face to face. And then she'd slide to the left and look at the left of my face. Then slide all the way to the right and look at the right of face. And she'd keep doing that.
Finally I said. "Having fun?"
"Oh yes, definitly." She said as she continued going left to right.
Hm... I thought. "Oh, is it because I'm so damn good looking?"
And y'know what she said? She said, "Oh no, well you are, but that's not why."
WHAT THE HELL? THEN WHY WERE YOU DOING THAT?!?! Ugh... women. Actually... I think I know why she was. See, while I may sexually, emotionally, and socially mature, I have yet to grow any decent facial hair. And one of my sideburns happen to be thicker than the other.
But that's not the point. The point is she thought I was good looking. That is wrong on so many levels.
And y'know what? She's not the only girl who ever thought I was good looking. There had been others. (Y'don't get a girls number being butt ugly... except somehow I did...) And all the girls who ever thought I was good looking... have all been buggers. They've all been tripped out one way or another. Generally they've been like me, antisocial agoraphobic losers.
And y'know... each one of those girls I really did like. I can't say I loved them, but I liked them. A lot. But I aint never hit it. When I was younger, I was too scared. Now that I'm older, I'm too smart to get involved in that scheiße. I know if a girl thinks I'm good looking, their must be something wrong with them. And I know it'd be wrong of me to get involved with a girl like that if I can't take care of them properly.
One of them was sexually molested as a child. That is a horrible thing to have happen. And I was friends with her and all, but our relationship was more or less me counseling her in regards to that. And I have very limited knowledge when it comes to such things, (Actually in comparison to your average jabroni, I've got extensive knowledge on the effects of abuse upon people. However, it's not enough to get my Phd in psychology.)
But the fact is, I would never want to take such baggage into a relationship unless me and her were completly committed. Because a woman can't heal from that stuff overnight. And I know it's girls like that which are attracted to me. If I was to ever be with such a girl, I know it would have to be a committment since I know she would be just as determined as me for her to get over the pain.
And that's something important. I have no idea how well I work with committments. I've never actually been in a
real relationship with a girl. I don't know if I could ever make it work for a lifetime. Hell, I've been with rapbattles.com for what? Three years? And I've tooken quite a few breaks that lasted for months. And this has been one of the biggest committments I've ever put anything into. Hell, I've never stayed in the same school for more than four years. (K-3, one school. 4-5 another. 6-8, middle school. 8-10, high school. 11-12, alternative highschool.)
As a human being, I have no idea about anything that is there that makes my life worth it. I can only hope and pray that I develop something real soon that is truly worth giving and that will provide for me. Let us look at the facts, yeah, I can write poetry. But so can a billion other people. The most famous poets never make a dime. I know Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets had rarely ever left her house if at all and wrote hundreds of poems. All I can think is, fuck, that is me right now. I aint never leave my house except for school and occasionally go to the store right next door for a snack.
And I don't want to be a modern male Emily Dickenson. With the exception of possibly her sister, she had no one to love or make love with. And while I've lived my life like that, I can't imagine living an entire life like that. And to be honest, that's my only gripe in regards to the agoraphobe minor that I am.
My grandmother can't live by herself. She's old, that's why I'm around. Her own children may have left her, her own grandchildren may have left her. But I'm the youngest, and more importantly I have no where else to go. Quite frankly, I'm afraid to have to live life without her since she's my free ride. I don't have to pay for room and board. Except maybe in the work I do cleaning and maintaing the house and her existance. And for that I have no gripes since to me it's more than a fair trade.
Thing is, it could be decades before she dies. She could end up living to be a hundred. What's this mean to me? I don't know. She could be in her bed right now dead, god forbid.
If all I have left to truly fall back on is my writings, how much can I develop and how much can I get done before I end up actually having to fall back on it?
Hm... I've been writing for so long on this post I don't want to stop. But it's actually been over an hour just about. I need to stop though. It's two fucking o'clock in the morning, and I was supposed to go to bed at midnight.
~Sha-Fucking-Lom~