You Stupid Fuck

    -"One never knows what to expect," he spoke to himself "...but one always expects the best." He finished that sentence trying to actually believe it. He cursed all his decisions up until this exact moment, yet that never means he would change. He never does, its too difficult for him. He would be able to keep the change for a few days but his monsters always came back, monsters he always kept to himself and hoped no one else found out. Maybe that's he stayed away from most people, he was scared of them finding out who he really was, who he really wanted to be if it weren't for all the social bigotry that would entail.

   He saw him walk away that day at the park after exploding in anger and self pity:

   He just stood up and left, without a word, without much more than a sigh and a hit from his cigarette. He was gone for good I had hoped. It is an unfortunate situation when all that I said I completely meant. As I watched walk away I couldn't help but be scared that I'd never see him ever again but I caught myself sighing in relief. I stood up that after a few minutes of watching the people in the park, the "normal" people, the one who have enough commodity to be running on the green grass while I'm banging my head against my bedroom wall every night from frustration and insatisfaction.

   Nobody seems to care that he's in the fight for his life, no one around seems to understand how life disappoints him most of the time, beginning with the fact that life now is a responsibility not an opportunity and from there you have to find whatever small piece of time you can to build a life. Everything is a career; everything is a memo; everything is numbers; everything is taxes, money, convincing, saying goodbye, never cumming. Everything is papers and signatures, everything is contracts and revenue, everything is an erection only half hard. Most of life is a disappointment.

   But he keeps all of this inside, inside him, inside his room and in that dent on his bedroom wall. Just the other day after a extremely disappointing afternoon he banged his head in that familiar spot and noticed something warm sliding down my face, the carpet was dotted red and so was the dent in the wall. He cleaned up what he could and put up a picture to cover the hole. Most people would stop after that, the smell and sight of blood would make people freak out and reconsider, as if blood was something so fucking priceless. Most people don't realize that I have just as much as most and that makes me just one more from the crowed.

   -"I'm tired of this," he said to himself but then chuckled to in his own silence and heard himself say...

    -"You always say the same thing, you stupid fuck."