“what brings you here today?”
well, uh, you see, i had figured that my self-destructive tendencies had gone away from when i was 16. it turns out giving yourself a black eye or a busted lip is harder than it looks, but convincing a friend to do it is even harder.
my daydreams consist of every bad thing possible happening to me. a black clothed figure breaking into my house to gun me down, walking home to a white van waiting expectantly for me. the kidnapping process runs through my head over and over again and i can never picture myself crying in horror or begging to be released. i really don’t want to die that bad, but the only thing i can see myself mouth is, “you’d be doing me a favor.” getting with someone and picturing them hitting me for the first time and still having no reaction, getting into a fight with no one in particular and sporting a black eye at the end of the match. then the news come on and i feel like a grade A douchebag. a space cadet asshole. and marginally glad it is not me they are talking about.
from the bottom of the barrel,