nothing deep today,just complaints.
bragging: i always have awesome shoes.
admitting: that's the only reason i chose this picture.
baby, i'm not negative.
you've just caught me at a bad, bad, bad time.
you've just caught me at a bad, bad, bad time.
there's something about the body,
there's always something, you know?
if it's not your back, it's your teeth,
and if it's not your teeth,
your sciatic nerve doesn't know what it wants to be when it grows up,
always something.
trying to clock in, trying to tally up, my schedule says today is just two miles, just pack in two miles. dad and i ended up at the most beautiful trail today in mogadore. fucking, wow. the water, the trees, the weather, you can't make this shit up.
but it's not about the perfect state of everything around me, it's about me. my calves hurrrrrrrrt, and it's great.
current city: emoville. i've unpacked my suitcase, i think i'll stay awhile, the one thing i've been loving lately is now taken from me, woe is kendall.
cement walls slope gently and stop the water, because we're human and we can do that (sometimes). the trail wraps around the edge of the reservoir, and i stared at the lake and i became upset. i realized i didn't have a way to describe, with words, the way parts of the land jut out into the water. i'm making the motion with my hand right now, but i can't dictate it how it needs to be dictated, and i'm upset.
i collapsed. plopped right down in the middle of the trail, in the middle of nowhere, and i cried.
well,
i tried.
nothing came out but the few whimpers i could muster.
they were pathetic. dramatic. (drathetic. pathatic.)
the way a toddler whines when they don't get their way, but no one is around to listen? that was kendall today; kendall didn't get her way. on my back, i covered my face with my hands, i whimpered again to hear the sound of my voice. and you know what?
it felt great.
i sat up, looked at the water, appreciated the perfect temperature, sucked in the fresh air, soaked in the beauty. it felt great.
then i stood up, resumed my shittastic mood, heard the medial tibial stress syndrome shout my name, told it to fuck off, and felt sorry for myself all over again. it's back to emotown, and though it hurts like hell, i think i'll run for mayor.
there's always something, you know?
if it's not your back, it's your teeth,
and if it's not your teeth,
your sciatic nerve doesn't know what it wants to be when it grows up,
always something.
trying to clock in, trying to tally up, my schedule says today is just two miles, just pack in two miles. dad and i ended up at the most beautiful trail today in mogadore. fucking, wow. the water, the trees, the weather, you can't make this shit up.
but it's not about the perfect state of everything around me, it's about me. my calves hurrrrrrrrt, and it's great.
current city: emoville. i've unpacked my suitcase, i think i'll stay awhile, the one thing i've been loving lately is now taken from me, woe is kendall.
cement walls slope gently and stop the water, because we're human and we can do that (sometimes). the trail wraps around the edge of the reservoir, and i stared at the lake and i became upset. i realized i didn't have a way to describe, with words, the way parts of the land jut out into the water. i'm making the motion with my hand right now, but i can't dictate it how it needs to be dictated, and i'm upset.
i collapsed. plopped right down in the middle of the trail, in the middle of nowhere, and i cried.
well,
i tried.
nothing came out but the few whimpers i could muster.
they were pathetic. dramatic. (drathetic. pathatic.)
the way a toddler whines when they don't get their way, but no one is around to listen? that was kendall today; kendall didn't get her way. on my back, i covered my face with my hands, i whimpered again to hear the sound of my voice. and you know what?
it felt great.
i sat up, looked at the water, appreciated the perfect temperature, sucked in the fresh air, soaked in the beauty. it felt great.
then i stood up, resumed my shittastic mood, heard the medial tibial stress syndrome shout my name, told it to fuck off, and felt sorry for myself all over again. it's back to emotown, and though it hurts like hell, i think i'll run for mayor.
hey buddy? thanks for being honest. being messy stinks.
ReplyDeleteI remember well when I first started "getting old"....everything within me began to ache. If it wasn't my back in the morning, it was my shoulder blades or traps....my thighs or my fingers ached to the bone. Yes. It's always something with this body of mine. I recall younger days, my body was in peek physical condition (a hilarious thought seeing as I spent most of my "childhood" obese ha) I could carry my body weight on a single arm and run for what seemed an eternity...I would stay out all night, every night and drink 5-8 monsters every single day, and drink half a container of Nyquil every single night. God how I mistreated my body. Maybe all that "partying" has just finally caught up to me? Honestly, I believe it was my work....being an electrician is a brutal labor...my dad is always complaining about aches and pains, and when I was young...I almost mocked him for it due to how much I despised him. I was so glad that he was hurting, even though a piece of me thought he was full of shit when he said it since he said it all the time. Now I laugh at myself, I am always saying how old I am getting, and people think "haha, there he goes saying it again...he is so young" and yes, I do make a joke of it...because I find it hysterical that I mocked my father for years thinking he was full of shit and deserved it if he wasnt....truthfully, he did deserve it. I cannot tell you how many times he has looked me in the eyes (well, the best he could at the time seeing as he was piss drunk) and threatened to kill me and my entire family if I didn't shut up.
ReplyDeleteNot many people know this, but I've been afraid of the dark for a lot of my life...in fact, I used to sleep with all the lights on. I wasn't scared of monsters you see....they arent very scary. I was terrified of the night because I never knew when he was going to come stumbling in through that door. Would he be aggressive and physical? Or would he just pass out on the living room floor....which seemed to be a favorite spot of his....It was always a coin flip...it could go either way. But I was only ever truly scared that I'd fall asleep and wake up the next morning to find every one dead. Murdered in cold blood. I've seen his anger, ive heard his threats...I know what he is capable of....and trust me, murder is not far off. I think that's why i've been an insomniac most of my life....i was scared to fall asleep. I listened to every word, every blow, every beer bottle shatter as it attempted to rape the wall....and yet I always pretended to be asleep....lies lies lies.
Gosh, this has gotten waaaaaaay too long, and waaaaay to morbid. Time to stop! :) I didn't really manage to comment much on your post -.-; Kinda got off on a tangent. Sorry......
:(((