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"We are Born like this Into this Into these carefully mad wars Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness Into bars where people no longer speak to each other Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings Born into this Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes."
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"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often."
My g0d, Mr. Bukowski, you hit the nail on the proverbial head. Ever sit down or walk around and feel so totally empty? So lost,even though your surrounded by people? Going somewhere and actually hating hearing people laughing and having a good time? Resentment is a horrible, horrible thing. I suppose it's life's way of mocking me. Shouldn't I be conditioned to it already? Sort of a Pavlovian thing? I try not to think about it but I can't help it...it hurts.
For example, I went to Blockbuster tonight, just to get out of the house. I can feel the 4 walls litterally closing in on me. Anyways, I went there and walked around,somewhat in a daze. While walking around, I noticed so many couples. I guess BB was having a couples night promotion. I couldn't wait to leave.
And I did, and I'm home. I logged into my "fav" social networking site and saw faces scroll by. So many faces, faces with stories. Some , craving attention like a junkie for his next fix, others looking for potential prey, still others, waiting for that ever elusive "so and so likes you". Do you ? Do you really like me? Or is the cutesy , pithy comment i always have as a status message?
Yet , I still come back for more. It is the pavolvian conditioning. Waiting for that "one" to acknowledge my existence. That I'm worthy of your time and consideration. How I wish I could drown my sorrows in cheap liquor or wile away the time with some mind altering substance where at least,for a moment, I didn't have to think or dream about anything.
Dreaming is my favorite pastime. Yet I hate it. I day dream. And at night,when curled up in my empty bed, I dream. Dreaming about what could have been. What I could have been. What should have been. I dream about wonderful things, such as life, success and yes, love. One outta three ain't bad right? My dreams are so vivid, so alive, it's scary. Scary how i can imagine things with such detail yet when I awake, all is gone. I have nothing to show for it, not even remembering most of my dreams. Even in sleep I'm cheated.
I wish, I envy, I think , I envy, I dream.
