Chewing On Glass Presents… Let the Good Times Roll… (Vulgar)

Let the Good Times Roll

“Holy shit look at these faggots all sitting around doing nothing,” a once familiar voice shouts from across the bar. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say under my breath. My friends Sam and Brian can’t believe it either. We smile and give him a proper hello once he finally makes his way over to us. One that doesn’t involve hate speech or unrequested insults. He stands there in front of us. Staring us down. Taking us in, I guess? “Thought you weren’t ever coming back here?” I ask after having enough of the silence. It is obvious that I am going to have to lead this train wreck from here on in. Of course the one voted most likely to lead nothing has to take charge. “Didn’t think I would ever come back to this shit show or see you sad fucks, but here I am,” he smiles like any one of us really care. Does he not really feel the awkwardness of it all right now? I look at my other two friends. Been friends for as long as I can remember. Too long for them to not see that I’m signaling them to say anything. Instead they each take another sip from their beers. “Why?” I blurt out. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I interject quickly.  He doesn’t miss a beat. “Came to see what you guys were up to. Came to see what’s been happening since I left,” he looks around The Room in disgust. In all fairness we all look at The Room like that. I mean the damn bar is called The Room. But it is The Room how dare he look in disgust at our bar. “You really came all the way out here to see us?” Brain finally questions. About fucking time, Jesus. “Well I mean I wasn’t setting out to come back here. I was driving through on my way to Pittsburgh and I thought what the hell one night in this shit hole won’t kill me,” he jokes. There is no main road from here to Pittsburgh I want to question, but it’s not like not questioning his lie is going to kill me. I take a drink from my beer. “Shit man, wasn’t even thinking. Do you want a drink?” I ask him. “Yeah, I’d love one,” he stares at me. Why the fuck did I open my mouth? Brian still seems very confused by the whole Pittsburgh exchange, which is fair considering he has been drinking since noon. I order him a beer. The same as the rest of us. “How did you find us?” Sam asks. Even with my back turned to them, to him I can already see his dumb fucking face spilling out all the words. Five minutes and it is already high school all over again. No one missed this asshole for even a second. “This crap shoot of a town only has one bar. Wasn’t too hard to locate the three biggest losers around,” he answers. Sam and Brian give a half assed laugh. The bartender hands me his beer and gives me a look that says I’ve heard every word he has said about my place and I don’t like it. I try to give him a look that reciprocates his displeasure. I turn and hand him the drink. “Took long enough,” the arrogant fuck says. One night, a few hours tops, and then we should never have to see him again.

He takes a drink from his beer. The first of many. “So what have you fucks been up too?” You all marry the town sluts and pop out a few worthless people yet?” He half jokes and half means. “You haven’t changed much over the years,” I say before finishing my beer. “What has it been? Something like eight years?” I ask before ordering another one. “I think so. Something like that,” Brain says. “None of us are married or have children,” Sam adds. Stressing children. “We’ve all been just working or going to school. Robert just got back from Harvard yesterday. It’s crazy really that you just showed up today because we are actually here to celebrate his return,” Sam continues. I nod my head. “No fucking shit? You went to Harvard? And to think I thought your dumb country ass was still digging holes for the dead,” he says. Thanks, it was a lot of work,” I say. “What did you go for?” He questions as though I am lying. “Pathology, but majored mostly in the forensic side of it. Got a job here in town. Coroner’s assistant. Nothing too exciting,” I say. “Nothing too exciting?” Brain shouts drunkenly. “Now we can hide the bodies,” he whispers jokingly.  I give off a smile, “Totally.”  This sets off another awkward silence amongst us. It was already a little weird and then he showed up. Again I have to take the lead. “What have you been up to Nick? You were always the one who was going to get out of this town and do something with yourself.” I ask with little actual intention of listening. Scanning the bar it seems rather empty for a Friday night. He doesn’t answer right away. We all haven’t been up to much, but his inability to brag about himself right now seems odd. “You know this and that. Nothing like Harvard or anything like that. But who wants to talk about the past? We are living now,” he finally says before taking another drink. “Well why were you heading to Pittsburgh?” Brain asks barely able to lift his head up off the bar. He should be almost done by this point. It is interesting how much like our parents we try to not be. Seems almost as if we are trying to outrun a shadow only to embrace it. “Remember that time you fell out of that tree and broke your arm?” Nick deflects at me.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t fall though. You pushed me for being scared,” I say rubbing the scars along my right arm. “Had to learn to write left handed for months,” I say in aggravation. “That’s not how I remember it. I thought you were writing left handed because you wanted to try something new,” he tries to play off. “Yeah, because I wanted to be made fun of for writing like a “retard” or so our classmates used to tease me,” I reflect. “I remember that,” Sam adds. “They picked on you pretty bad for that. Didn’t you break it again after that fight with? What was his name? Steven or Scott or something,” Brain chimes in out of nowhere. “Mike, fat mike they used to call him,” I say. “He beat the fuck out of you. What happened to that obese mother fucker?” Nick asks. “He killed himself not long after you left. Shot gun blast to the face. He didn’t die right away, but in the end he passed. My dad said it was gruesome. Said even though he was dying he kept trying to say something. Some people believe it wasn’t a suicide,” Sam says in solace. “You look empty Nick,” I say as I pass him another beer. He catches it as it slides across the bar top. I raise my drink and pretend to take another drink. “It is sad really all the stuff the people here have gone through. The hard times and the good. Life here is always filled with so much tragedy,” I say. We all take another drink in silence. “Remember Becky?” I ask the group. “Oh I remember Becky,” Brain says a little too loudly. “Wasn’t she that big chested whore that was a grade or two above us?” Nick asks. “I remember Becky,” Sam says staring at his bottle, “That’s when the murders started.”

“Murders?” Nick asks in genuine shocked. “Probably a year after you left. People around town started to disappear. It was one of the reasons I got the fuck out of here,” I say. “I don’t ever remember hearing anything about any murders,” Nick says in confusion. “I suppose you won’t. There aren’t many people here in town willing to talk about them,” Sam says. “You really disconnected when you left for the city Nick,” I add. “I guess I really did. So what happened to Becky?” Nick asks. Sam looks over to me and then to Brain. I’m not volunteering to lead this one I think. “It was pretty messed up,” Sam begins. “She was never one to date anyone good for her and she had a reputation of dating more than one man at a time,” Sam continues. “Because she was a whore. Don’t waste time telling me what I already know,” Nick interrupts. “Right,” Sam says rolling his eyes and taking a drink. “Any way one night Becky doesn’t come home. Her parents don’t think much about. She goes out a lot, she is an adult, and what are you going to do? Typical missing person story. After about three days though they began to get very worried. No word and no sightings. Would scare anyone in this town. So they go to the police and they set out looking for her. It took a few days, but eventually they found her. Dead in the woods. Deep in the woods not too far from the state park on some private land. I guess she used to go out there to get busy,” Sam takes a long breath and an even longer drink. “That’s it?” Nick asks. “They just found her in the woods dead?” Nick takes another drink. “Of course that wasn’t it. At the time though they just thought it was a lover’s fight gone wrong. A fucked up one, but an isolated incident. My dad was the medical examiner for that case too. Told me they found her dead from a shot gun wound,” Sam says. “Just like Mike and no one thought that might be connected?” Nick interrupts. “This is the sticks Nick. We don’t get a whole lot of murders and let’s not forget the fact that we all have shotguns. Hell I’m driving my dad’s truck and there are two in there right now,” I say. “Not to mention she didn’t die from a shotgun blast to the head like Mike,” Brain again says out of nowhere. “No, someone had taken the barrel of the shotgun and stuck it right up her. Right up her vagina and pulled the trigger,” Sam says in near silence. “Finally found a load she couldn’t handle,” Nick says off handed. I try not to laugh as I pretend to take another drink.

The night goes on. Drink after drink. Nick gets drunker and so does Sam. We talk for hours creating an alibi. People in this town don’t ask too many questions I think. Sam calls in a ride for him and Brain. I offer Nick a ride home. Where ever that might be. “How are you still sober?” He asks me in a drunken slur. “College taught me more than just what was in the books,” I play off. Loading Nick in my truck took more care than I was willing to give. Nearly crushed his arm when I slammed the door shut. The weather turned cold at some point. The seasons are changing I think as I look at his car sitting there in the parking lot. “Freezing balls here asshole turn on the god damn heater,” He shouts from within the truck. I open the driver’s door and climb in, “It takes a second to warm up.” He tries to talk to me in small talk but most of it comes out in inaudible slurs. “Your parents still live up on Oak Street?” I ask knowing his answer doesn’t matter. His distorted speech starts again and then stops. I look to see if he is sleeping. Wide awake he appears to have something on his mind and is trying really hard to say whatever it might be. We pass street light after street light until there aren’t anymore. The road turns dark. Flashes of trees from the head lights. “Robert can I ask you something?” He finally says clear as day. ‘Of course,” I say curious. “In high school didn’t you try to date Becky?” he poses the question as though he knows it is fact and yet very confused at the same time. “As a matter of fact I did,” I say as a matter of fact. We pass more and more trees until I start to slow down not too far outside of the state park. Pulling into an odd clear space between the trees. A trail I found so many years ago. I wanted nothing more than to get away. Same as every kid I assume, but time has a way of drawing you home. Even wasted Nick begins to question what is happening. “I’d love to say that our story ended there. Becky and I. Well to be completely honest I’m a little more than proud our story didn’t end there. See part of that story you heard tonight was true. A lover’s fight gone horribly wrong, but one would have to say that we were lovers to really claim such a thing. I didn’t love Becky. I resent her for what she did. For what they all did really. Everyone who has ever scorned me,” I pause. “I think here is a good place to drop me off,” Nick fights to get out of his mouth. Pulling the handle of the door over and over to no avail. “Yeah, that is broken. Maybe I should have mentioned that. My father has been busy you know. Getting older and what not. And no good friend just leaves someone lost in the woods so unfortunately for you here is not a good place to stop. But I know a really good place. Trust me,” I smile. We keep driving through the woods slowly as I try to remember the exact path. “Where was I? Yes, Becky the big titted whore. She broke my god damn heart. Almost like how you broke my arm. She pushed me beyond my limits. I will admit that I had every intention of killing her that night. Shotgun blast right to the head just like Mike, but then things got weird,” I say. I turn my head to look into Nick’s scared eyes, “Things always get weird. Nothing goes as it was planned.” I turn my head back to the makeshift road.

“It wasn’t my plan to kill you tonight. That was a serendipitous occurrence. To be completely honest, and I feel that we can be after all these years. I planned to start my return off with Brian. Then you appeared. It almost makes me believe there is a God up there looking out for me. Then again if they were so concerned with me to take the time. I think they wouldn’t have let you and all those assholes walk all over me. It always seems though that things get weird whenever it is time so, I am always torn. Becky is a prime example. I didn’t want to shove a shotgun barrel up her cunt. It was supposed to be so much simpler than that. But being the whore that she was. It didn’t take much for her to slip off those clothes. Took even less effort to take my cock out. Apparently all it took for her was the right location.” I bring the truck to a stop in the middle of the woods. “I can’t move,” Nick says to me. “The sedative I gave you seems to have that effect. But enough about you,” I say reaching behind the seat of the truck to grab the shotgun. “No, Becky liked dick. She liked it a lot. Lost my virginity and then some that night. Which was kind of a problem. That much evidence just sitting up in there. What was I supposed to do? Blow her fucking head off and let her leak all the evidence all over the place? I might not be the brightest person, but I’m not stupid. Do you know what she said as I slid the barrel into her pussy?” His mouth moves, but no words come out. “I learned way too much in college to not explain,” I joke. “As I slid the barrel deep into her pussy Becky couldn’t help but get turned on. She said to me with her eyes closed, “How can you still be so fucking hard? Fuck me again with that rock hard cock.” So I did. Pulled that trigger and watched her die. Her tits all covered in blood and bouncing. The smell of her flesh cooking against the sides of the barrel. Left nothing but a bloody hole in the center of her mass. If I had to say so myself. She never looked better. Fought every urge to pull that barrel out and fuck her one last time. Could you imagine? My dick pumping away at her and coming out the other side. The juxtaposition of such a thing? If I had one regret in life. That would have to be it.”

I get out and pull the release handle on the driver’s side door and hop out of the truck. Nick sits there paralyzed as I walk around to his side of the vehicle. Body pressed against the door. He falls hard onto the hard ground as I open the door. I hear something crack against the ground. “Opps,” I say before laughing. “I’m sure your head is ringing from that fall, but even in all of that you have to remember like I do. What you said to me that day you pushed me out of the tree. Opps. Opps? You were supposed to be my fucking friend you worthless piece of shit,” I scream into the night. The words echo, but there is no one besides us around to hear them. “I remember so much about our childhood Nick. You really shouldn’t have come home. But I’m so glad that you did. Saved me the hassle of finding your good for nothing ass later.” I grab him by the back of the shirt and drag his ass to the front of the truck the head lights lighting our way. Dropping him with another thud on the ground. I begin to strip him naked. “I just want you to know I won’t enjoy this part of it, but we have to make it look like it should. The dumbass police need to know who this kill belongs too. Same as before. They need to know. The people of this town need to know that I have returned. They need to know that things have started once again,” I say into his ear. He still can’t talk which disappoints me, but his tears are more than enough to make up for it. His tears shine in the light from the headlights. Slow streams of moving water. Life is like that. A slow constant stream of moving water. Sometimes there are rough waters, sometimes the stream moves quicker than you’d like, and sometimes it almost appears as though the stream has stopped forever. But we all know the stream must keep going as long as it exists. I shove the cold hard barrel of the shotgun up his ass. “However this part I will always enjoy,” I say into his ear. Gripping his bare shoulder as I thrust the barrel deep inside him. “Opps, hope I didn’t tear anything too vital,” I laugh. He tries to scream but the pain is so horrendous he can’t seem to make any noise. I pull the trigger of the shotgun filling the cold dead silence of the night with a shattering boom. A crater blows out the back of Nick like one bad shit gone wrong. Images of Becky dance within my skull. Not nearly as beautiful, but enough to satisfy the demon in me. What’s left of Nick burns and sizzles on the barrel of the gun as I pull it out.

“Took you long enough,” Sam’s voice comes from behind me. “Sorry, if this is one kill that I felt the need to enjoy,” I say to him. He throws me a towel and I wipe the blood from my face. “We are going to have to find a different place for Brain,” he informs me. “No one is going to look for him out here,” I tell him as I kick the body next to me. “No, no one is going to look for some asshole that doesn’t live here anymore that is true, but we can’t just drag another victim into this mess,” He says. “No one’s going to be looking for his asshole anymore because it literally doesn’t exist. Oh wait, I think I see a little left on the barrel,” I joke. “Shut the fuck up and listen,” Sam says sternly to me. “Do you want to fuck this up? All this work? All this time?” He shouts at me. A rage builds up in me, “No.” We stare each other down and I think of all the ways I could end him here and now the shotgun still very much in my hand. “Know your place,” he finally says to me. “We are partners in this not enemies. Let’s not fuck this up after all this time,” he says to me in a calm voice. I can still feel the adrenaline and blood pounding against my skull, but I know that he is right. I need to calm down. It is the murder effect. He is not my enemy they are. Each and every one of them that ever laughed at me, tortured me, or held me down. Those that held us down. Sam is my friend I think to myself. Sam has always been my friend I repeat to myself. I take a deep breath to calm down and exhale loudly to break the tension between us. “So what do we do next then?”

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Something Different… Q & A… Nothing Has To Change…

Game 2… We are playing The Ungame once again… Let’s get right into this…

Question 1… If You Could Hang A Motto Or Saying In Every Home In The World, What Would It Be?

These are some long ass questions… maybe it is my fear of speaking in front of people… but if I was playing this game with actual people… I’d have quit on turn 1… This one is easy and hard for me… easy because it comes from the same source and the same song… hard because I don’t know which line I would choose… I can’t even decided which line to tattoo on my body… The two lines tearing me apart are… “Not all martyrs reach divinity but at least you tried,” and “Get off your fucking cross.” Both lines are from the Tool song Eulogy… I have them written on nearly everything… I have “Get off your fucking cross,” written on my keyboard… it helps me write… motivates me… brings me back to reality… reminds me that I’m not fucking special… I’m just me…

and right below where I rest my keyboard I have a piece of tape with the words… “But at least you tried”… Which is actually something I put down during my dark times last year… when I was feeling sorry for myself… feeling like a failure at everything… that line really stuck with me through those dark days… that line helped save me among other things… that line gave me a lot of strength to believe in myself… I will fail… I’m going to fail… I am failing… but at least I fucking tried… what else could I have really wanted out of this day, but a chance?…

Question 2… What Do You Like Most About Yourself?

That I don’t like myself… it allows me to be very critical of myself… allows me to tear myself apart… and not feel bad about it?… I’d say I’m pretty normal in that I don’t like myself… at all really… don’t like my name… don’t like how I think… don’t like what I waste my time doing… if I could tear off my own flesh and slap on a fresh one… I don’t know that I wouldn’t… but at the same time you have to make the best of what you got… so that’s that… if I had to pick a body part though… I’d have to say I have some pretty amazing legs… no one is ever going to see…

I was watching this reality show or documentary when I was younger… what’s the difference anymore?… and there was this guy who was going to get calf implants… because he felt like his legs weren’t the way that they need to be… drama… drama… drama… big reveal… his legs looked basically like mine… except fake… that made me feel pretty good… was still a hundred pounds over weight and ugly… but I had legs someone was willing to pay to get… look for the positive in everything I guess…

Question 3… If You Could Have Been Someone In History, Who Would You Have Been?

You’re look at it… I am history in the flesh… haha… I’m confused by this question actually… am I supposed to pick a person I could have been or am I supposed to pick someone I would have wanted to be?… If I am supposed to pick someone I could have been… then that is stupid… because there is a reason they are part of history… there was something about this person that made them unlike anyone else at the time… in few cases something made them unlike anyone else ever… does that sound crazy?… am I avoiding the question?… is saying Jesus… hitting the nail on the head a little too hard?… : )

Let’s get off that fucking cross for a moment and assume they want me to pick someone in history I would have wanted to have been… how does one make a choice on who they would be… money?… power?… courage?… selflessness?… That is such a hard question to answer… I think I would want to be someone who made a difference in everyone’s lives for the positive… Someone like Martin Luther King Jr… Susan B. Anthony… someone who fought for civil rights… for everyone not just themselves… I think being selfless… is so admiral… should be celebrated more… because we as humans are very selfish… so to be so selfless… to give so much… to care about more than just me… goes against our very nature… I would want to be someone like that… to get in their head and see how they think… see how they see the world… feel how they see the world… even for a day…for a moment… would really be interesting to me…

Question 4… If You Could Change Your Age, What Age Would You Rather Be?

I’m shuffling this cards better next time… way too much reflection for someone who doesn’t even like to look into a mirror… depends… would I just be younger now or would I have to be my younger self?… younger now with all my thoughts and feelings would be ideal for me… though I think my wife and daughter would find it creepy… going back and starting at a different age that I was before would be so shitty… more so if I knew what was already going to happen… through out all the negative shit that happened to me… that I have been through in this life… could you fucking imagine the torment of knowing you had to wait even a year for the internet to become a thing?… holy fucking shit… I’d rip my god damn hair out…

I mean I’d have to actually watch a movie?… and not search Wikipedia to read ahead… I’d have to actually watch a film without knowing the trivia from IMDB?… I could only talk to someone I could find in a phone book and even then I’d have to call 15 Smiths before I got the right one?… Shit I’d have to actually leave my house to do anything?… Anyone born in the last ten years and beyond needs to change how they greet us old timers… “Thank you for your sacrifice”… should be the first words out of their mouths every time they see us… and you are very welcome… (seriously though… how are any of us still alive?)

Question 5… How Would You Describe Peace?

Peace would be… an operating table with an endless supply of bodies… instruments… and time… : )

Question 6… Make A Statement About Beauty.

It’s not what you think it is…

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Chewing On Glass Presents… Passions…

“So here we are once again. You with the gun and me with the hostage. Who do you think is going to win this time? Me or you?” The madman with the barrel pressed against the victim’s head ponders out loud. “Things may seem like you’ve got the upper hand, but I’ve got something you don’t,” the half-naked, half blown up, and one hundred percent out of patience hero says. “Oh and what’s that?” The villain pulls the hammer back on the gun. “A chance.”

“Can you shut that shit off already?” She moans. “How can you even watch this crap?” She asks letting me know she isn’t going to stop without an answer. “Why do you do that? Why do you have to interrupt all of the best parts?” I ask. The sound of me hitting the space bar fills the room. “The best parts? What could have possibly been the best part of a movie that failed to get one star?” She badgers. “I don’t know maybe when he pulls a gun out of nowhere and shots him off the building like in Harder To Die, Than To Live,” I answer. “Wait so you’re telling me the best part of a film is a copycat scene from a film you’ve already seen?” She mocks me. “Well madam it’s not a complete copy since that would be illegal. It will be different to a point though overall the same scene in a sense. Plus this one didn’t go to theaters and is unrated. Which basically means there will be more blood and the fact that the hostage is a woman means there is a good chance of a topless scene. All of this could add up to a better or worse ending than the “same scene” in another movie,” I explain. “You’ve got to be kidding me right?” She looks more annoyed than confused. “I didn’t invent the male brain. I was just born with one,” I smile.

She sighs in disgust. “What would you rather watch another movie about two people falling in love after overcoming some stupid obstacle?” I ask her. “Of course at least they are original,” she says. “Original? Right let’s see the last one we watched was about some couple who fell in love, but then the lady had a dog which just so happens the man is afraid of so, they spend the next hour getting over that. The one before that was about two people too afraid to leave their house though they fall in love over the internet so, they spend the next hour and half getting over that. An hour and a half wondering if they will ever be able to be together through this dire situation that is somehow too impossible to get over. How are either one of those movies not the same?” I question. “That last one won an Oscar by the way so, what do you know?” She says defensively. “How can a movie about nothing get any sort of reward?” I mock. “It got six, but that is beside the point,” she tries to play off. “Nothing happens for almost two hours,” I won’t let the point die. “You try making the hottest actress in Hollywood look ugly and then you tell me you didn’t take a chance,” she rolls her eyes as though I am the ignorant one in this situation. “They put a bump on her nose and she was still hot. They could have lit her head on fire and put her in a full body cast, and she still be hot. Changing one thing about someone is not taking a chance,” I protest. “Neither is watching a movie because there might be a topless scene or more blood,” she protests back. The screen goes black.

“How can you watch this shit?” An angel with giant white wings asks. “What are you talking about? There is so much passion over nothing. How could I the Lord not watch?” A figure of immense light and a voice that could crack the sky asks right back. “I don’t know maybe because there are about seven billion and growing other issues you could address. I mean it is all the same thing. Over and over about nothing at all. Couldn’t there be anything else you could do today? I just don’t get it,” the angel tries to reason. “What’s the point of being a God if you can’t enjoy your own creations?” The question hangs in the air. 

Pretty basic and short story… I’m sure when I wrote it the first time I had so much more to say about this story… finding it years later… I decided to put a little twist on it… a twist of an idea that I think about a lot… I’m sure we all do… if someone was watching us?… Why?… this story to me was more of a way to present the question to others… rather than answer it myself… nothing flashy just a thought in my head…

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So Much Better On My Mind…

Always There

My guilt takes precedence
Like a hit that I can’t get rid of
Feel like shit but at this point
Who doesn’t wish they were dead
I bring the fire and I bring the pain
Wish I had more like something to say
When it is only a feeling it is much harder to convey
My thoughts are my actions
And I’m making them every day
All I really want
Is for this to go away
Tomorrow may be new but I already know
It will feel the same
My guilt grows like a tumor in my brain
I hate myself but I wish I could cut it away
Even if I could stop I already know
It will, this feeling will stay forever

Now Available On Amazon

Broken Thoughts Vol 1: Between You and Me

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Broken Thoughts… Sinking Deeper…

Bowing before the evil laid out
A master plan with no eyes
Built upon treacherous lies
The master is the power
Power by thy name
We continue to follow a path
Built upon sin
Smiling as we skip along
Oblivious to what we have done

Light headed and passing along…

Setting the world on fire
To see you burned by the flames
No one ever told me
It was the same as living
Everyday
Sinking down in the ash
Think I’d forget what it all meant
Be wrong to think you’ve
Ever known anything
The rain will come
Take away the memories
Broken thoughts and heartbreak
The rain will come
Wash you away from me
The rain will come
Resetting everything
They’ll remember me
Because I won’t let them forget
Carving my place in the ground
The sun will return
And cleanse us all

While the depression only grows…

Locked inside my head
I’ve never questioned
Why I wanted to be dead
Looking past the reflection
Blurred lines of what I observe
Scratching at the walls
The scars hurt, scars aren’t small
Locked inside my head
I’ve never questioned
Why I am the way I am
Hollow shell with nothing left

A lot of thoughts burning through my head… banging against my skull… what am I going to do with the rest of my day?… still plenty of stories to edit… post… work through… videos to make… things to do… not sure what it is I want to do at all… take a break… get something to eat… push through all of this… push past the need and succumb to the want… haven’t already… what is one more…

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Chewing On Glass Presents… I Remember You…

I Remember You

“Meghan is that you?” She turns as though my voice is familiar and yet somehow distant.  We lock eyes, “No one’s pronounced my names right in years.” She stands in front of me after all these years later. “I’m sure they haven’t. I’m sure you made sure they got it right in the end though,” I say to her. She gives off a fake friendly laugh. A chuckle really if you should be so lame. She follows it up with a smile, “You’d be right, but then you always were won’t you?” I don’t smile because it wouldn’t be who I am in the face of the past. “I missed you too,” I lie because that is who I am. It’s been so many years by choice and vast amounts of distance. Why she is even here in front of me is puzzling on its own, but here she stands none the less. Though in a way this all is just petty. Her need for childish attention drove us apart. Made us two very different people and in the end made us nothing more than friends of the past. How we related in the first place is beyond me. Even now after all these years I still don’t really miss her. I still don’t really care, but being human of course I do in some sense.

“How have you been? How was California?” I ask her. She thinks I care. I can tell by her surprised look that she thinks that I have been keep tabs on her. “California was good. A long time ago, but it was good. Super expensive in the end so I had to get out of there,” she keeps her answers vague and short. It seems so out of place for her to be here. I can’t tell if she’s sure she wants to see me or why she would want to. I’m past history. A foot note in her life as she is in mine. The last time we spoke we didn’t because I walked out. Walked out of her life as if she didn’t matter and in a way she didn’t. I didn’t feel guilty then because I thought I never see her again. Yet as she stands before me I can’t say the same thing. Guilty feelings about how things ended so many years ago in Washington. “It is crazy to see you here of all places,” she finally breaks the silence growing between us. “Never thought you would move to Texas,” she adds. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d live here either. Haven’t been here too long though. Did a spell in New York for a while and then ended up here,” I answer. “New York is where your mother is from right?” She remembers and I node my head. “Yeah, my wife’s family is from here,” I tell her like I tell everyone. A constant denial that I would move here by any other choice. “So you live here?” She asks me like a detective trying to get the facts straight. “Yep,” I say confused to this line of questioning.

“A bit of a cliché don’t you think? Ever think of someplace to go without training wheels?” Lighter, can of gasoline, and check mate. Her true colors begin to shine in the mid afternoon sun. No one likes to think they can’t do it on their own. No one likes to feel as though they need mommy and daddy to support them. No one likes this idea especially not her. “My wife’s idea,” I say as though I had no say in the matter. A half-truth repeated so many times in my head, but really what was I to do? “I’m sure it was. She still leading you around like you are an alpha male, but really you are nothing more than a puppy on a very short leash?” She always knew the best ways to make it hurt. Her words could be like poison or a bed of nails. A talent really that few of us can pull off as well as her. A talent only possessed by demons and devils, but a talent none the less. “I am my own man,” I say even if it comes out hollow. I stand by the words in my head. “She doesn’t influence me to do anything I don’t already want to do.” She smiles as my statement, “Spoken like a true married man. A little bit Stockholm syndrome rehearsed, but I’m sure they are all your own words in the end.” She thinks she has me against some sort of theoretical ropes. This is always how she, how we talked to each other. A match of wits always trying to out maneuver each other. “You never did approve of relationships much,” I say bouncing off the ropes. “You got me there,” she puts her guard up. Ready for anything I take my swing. “Is that because you are a lesbian or because of something else?”

“This many years and now you want to get personal?” She asks me deflecting my question. She is right though it has been many years. Many years of a lot of things being left unsaid, unanswered, or unspoken that drove a wedge between us so long ago. “I was only asking considering,” I begin to say. “Considering what?” She questions in an almost hostile tone. Maybe my verbal punch did more damage than I thought? “Considering you are always on the move. Never staying anywhere long enough to be a part of anything,” I say to her. Giving away the fact that I have been keeping tabs on her. From a distance and never reaching out, but paying attention none the less. She looks solemn to my response, “Long enough to know anybody. What about you? Always moving yourself.” She turns around on me. “Time and money are two very different things. Yet they go together as if they are meant to be,” I respond. “Deep, you been working on that for a while now?” She asks me. For the first time I smile, “No, I’m a writer now. It comes naturally.” She lets off another hollowed laugh, “Any self-obsessed asshole can be a writer so, I’m not surprised.” A talent or a curse I can’t decide anymore. A talent or a curse. “Well it’s my dream so thanks,” I respond slightly wounded. “Are you really hurt or are you just playing the part?” She asks with venom dripping from her teeth.

“The part I guess,” we lock eyes and neither of us have much left to say. There should be a million things to keep us talking for hours, but in the end none of them really matter. Too many empty silences in this broken down conversation. Too many I could give a damn ideas and thoughts. If I cared enough. If she cared enough. We could let them all go and be civil. I don’t care to bring up the past, but here it stands before me. Right in front of me as though a distant memory of the past and the present have collided. The silence between us is deafening and yet neither of us can walk away. Drawn together by some cosmic need to stand in this very place. Locking eyes and staring into each other’s soul looking for anything that could resemble what we are looking for in this situation. I find nothing, but there is something that tells me she hasn’t reached the same conclusion. “I have AIDS,” she says with actual sincerity. “That’s why I have been moving so much. Not getting to know anyone. I want to protect myself from letting anyone new in. While taking in everything that I can before it is all said and done with. Making the rounds so to speak. Making my way around this world to figure out my place all along,” she lays out all of her cards before me.

“But you are a lesbian, statistically this isn’t even possible. Well it is but more unlikely,” I try to rationalize out loud. “Just because I’m gay,” she breaks down. Her tears trickle out one by one before becoming streams on her face. “No one wants to be gay. We lie and say we do with our parades and our words, but in reality we just want to be normal,” she cries. “Being gay is normal,” I say as I extend my hand to her shoulder. She pushes my hand away, “No, no it is not. Being gay is not normal. We make it seem that way because we want it to be normal. I only wanted to be normal. Be seen as normal by everyone. So I gave it a shot. Found a man at a bar and played the part of the normal woman. Guess what I didn’t think to ask? Guess what didn’t cross my mind as I laid there trying to be who I was supposed to be?” I don’t answer her questions. I only listen. “I lost, I lost it all, and now. Now I’m just trying to do it all before I’m all gone,” she chokes out. Too much emotion. I’m not good with all of this. Being silent is what I am good at. Distant and far is the only approach I know. “Sorry,” I say as though the word could ever wash away all of her troubles. That the word could solve anything at all.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she spits back into my face. “I was only trying.” But she cuts me off. “Only trying to what? Care? I know that you don’t care or give a damn about anyone or anything. You like to be distant. You like to be away from people. It lets you think that you are better than everyone else,” her voice echoes in a loop. “This is different,” I want to say but she’s not listening. “I should have never told you and you wouldn’t have never known. It was great to see you again,” she says before storming away from me. There I stood not knowing what to do. There I stood in my past as the present spun me up in a giant web. I never saw her again. Only in my dreams of our last conversation. So many things I should have done differently, but in the end all I will have are these memories, this horrid dream of her.

I walk down from the podium and make my way down the aisle until I find my seat. The long hard benches that make up the church. Solemn and crying as my words still dance in front of me. The mask is off the monster and I don’t like what I see. What I’ve always seen. The reasons I am the way I am. “Would anyone else like to say a few words about the departed?” echoing through the hollowness of my soul.

This is actually a story from my forth coming novel… I would have put up an image of the book cover… but I am still trying to figure that out… I have a title… but I am not really ready to reveal that at the moment either… Unless I already did… haha… I have been busy working on that… and other things…

So… why am I posting this story if I am not ready to share anything surrounding it?… I actually found this story in my random files to save… it was originally going to be just for the website… but it fit in nicely with my ideas for my next novel… though I have no idea where yet… I write very much backwards and forwards… I also over write… I’m sure a lot of us do… whether it makes it in the book or not is a question for the future…

So this story… what is real… and what is fiction… I’d say 50/50… but it doesn’t matter because in the end… after it is all said and done… it could be 100% false or 100% true… and still work… sounds easy enough… nothing easy ever really is though… I actually based this on a few people I know… a few things I went through… a few conversations I actually had…

I like this story because as we transition into a better society… there will still be a lot of questions about what is right… what is normal… that was the part of the story that stood out to me… that I liked… Meghan had doubts that she was normal… and she was… perfectly normal for who she was… but sometimes society and those close to us have a way of making us feel like we aren’t… even the strongest person can succumb to the pressure being exerted all them… I’m not going to sit here and preach… not my place in this world… I’m not even going to say you have to “love” everyone just because… but you don’t have to hate them either… something to think about if you haven’t already…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter