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
It itches and it burns It’s cracked and it’s torn The nails rip flesh from bone I want more, I want more I want one more To live and to die Living and leaving one vice At a time You’re young and it’s new You’re old and it gets old The damage is done But the fun has just begun To live and to die Only to sit and wonder why Do you do this to yourself Because it itches and it burns It’s cracked and it’s torn The nails keep digging But the addiction just keeps going
The infection it spreads Like the virus in my head Love is loss and loss is expected Life goes on, if only for a minute longer Don’t know when to give up I can feel the human condition It’s spreading Down my limbs and into my spine Everyone wants to know The reason, the why No answer is given, no answer to find This information is deadly This information can kill For without this reason No reason to live Lost control, control has been lost If you can’t make your millions We will surely die off This information is toxic This information is unclean Unholy, whatever it may be No weapon is greater than The one inside your head Your mind left wasted as you go on Survival instincts weighted down over time 501 reasons you must lay down and die For your sins and not your crimes
“I think I lost it,” he exhales. “Lost
what?” She asks without facing him. “The ability to write. The
ability to say anything of actual meaning,” he stares into the nothing
that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?” She asks as if she
doesn’t care. “Because I let it rot itself out. I let it go to shit for no
reason. Now it festers there with everything that I try to say. Every idea,
every thought slowly rotting away at me with nothing to say,” he tries to
explain. “Well can’t you get it back if it is right there. Allow yourself
time to heal so to speak?” She asks almost robotically, almost of she is
on rails with her lack of concern. “No, I can’t because in its absence
life got in the way. My brain got in the way. Spread the infection deeper and
deeper. Everything, what little I once had is now gone. I am lost in my own
empathy with nowhere to go. It is as though my life has become one of my
stories. It has become a nightmare,” he rationalizes starring deeper into
the nothing. She turns to him breaking his concentration, “The answer is
simple then.” He stares into her eyes. Where have I seen those eyes
before? “Oh really and what’s that?” He asks while he wonders about
something else. She doesn’t break eye contact as she speaks. “Why don’t
you simply wake up?” She asks in the most serious of tones.
“Jesus Alan, what’s with the screaming?” A woman he
has never seen shouts at him. The words woke him without ever feeling asleep.
Confused on how or what is happening he looks around him. “Right here
asshole. You’ve only been in a coma for three weeks it’s not like it was a
lifetime,” she barks at him. They are sitting in what he assumes is her
office. She is dressed in a business suit as she moves papers around on her
desk. The room fills very high up and the sun is pouring through the windows.
Is this my editor? He wonders. She snaps her fingers breaking his
concentration. Where have I seen those eyes before? He wonders. There is a
glass of water on the desk. He reaches for the glass but he doesn’t understand
why. Everything feels played out. Almost rehearsed. He watches his arm move in
slow motion to pick up the glass. The glass feels almost unreal in his hand.
The water doesn’t move as he lifts up the glass. It doesn’t sweat. It doesn’t
feel like anything. It is almost as if the glass is empty and full at the same
time. The stranger slaps his hand and the glass falls to the floor. The glass
doesn’t shatter and it doesn’t spill. “Don’t drink that your body isn’t
ready. As for who I am and how you got here. Well that’s simple,” she
smiles. “It is?” He asks confused. She snaps again. “You want
the longer version or the short version? She asks. He thinks over what she is
asking. Watching the glass sit perfectly still on its side. “Long I guess.
There’s something wrong with your,” he tries to get out but she cuts him
off. She speaks in rapid tones of noises and what seem like made up words. He
watches as her face mouths the words and the light in the room goes from day to
night and back to day when she stops suddenly. She exhales a long breath.
“Basically you tried to kill yourself and I’m you only
I’m the female you and even then I’m just made up pieces of all the females you
have wanted or dreamed of being with,” she sums up. “All the women?
Where the hell am I?” He asks as layer upon layer of confusion sets in.
“Check it out. Two different people,” she says ignoring his
questioning of this reality. She leans her body over the desk so he can get a
better look of her face. “Two different people,” she moves her head
side to side. “Well really more like twenty, but face wise two. Pretty
cool huh?” She asks without asking. He sits there silently studying her
face. Two very different people he thinks. “Well I think it is cool. I can
tell you have no idea what is happening, but do we really have to be stuck in
this office all day? We can really go anywhere we want and yet we are
here?” She asks. “I don’t understand what is going on,” is all
he can say. She snaps her fingers and the room changes in a blink of an eye.
They are on a beach. Endless sand, but no water. Only the sound of the waves
crashing around them. Their clothes have changed and she notices him staring at
her. “Yeah this breast situation isn’t ideal. To be honest it is a tad bit
awkward,” she moves her chest closer so he can see in an innocently
suggestive manner. One breast is very much bigger than the other one. “One
double D and the other an A. Yeah you are seeing that in real time. Do you have
an idea how difficult it is to find a bra in these dimensions? Let alone what
it is like on a date? Well it is a lot like it is now,” she sighs.
“No, I’m sorry but I created you?” He seems to be questioning himself
more than asking. She looks side to side as if to make sure no one is around.
Only adding to his confusion. “Yeah, you did. Do you see anyone else
around?” She asks. “How could I have done this?” He asks.
“What? Create everything around us or mess up my breasts? Flip of the coin
really,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m
having a really hard time processing all of this,” he states. “I know
I can feel it,” she says in a worried tone. “You need to calm down.
Close your eyes and think of something else. Whatever you want.” He does
as he is told. Closing his eyes and trying to relax. Relax in the darkness of
his mind. “Sweet you fixed my breasts. Thank you, thank you,” she
exclaims with glee. He opens his eyes and the bright sun blinds him at first.
He winces and has he does clouds begin to form in the sky. Bringing down the
intensity of the light until he is comfortable. “Is this heaven?” He
asks with a smile. “This? No, fuck no. What made you think this was
heaven?” She asks. “Well I control everything seems to be the obvious
answer,” he states. She sighs, “Well first off I don’t know much more
than anything than you know as I am you. But last we knew or you knew or
whatever. God controls heaven and you aren’t God so, one could easily assume
based on what you do and don’t know that this is in fact not heaven. Make
sense?” She asks. He shakes his head, “No, not even a little
bit.” She shrugs her shoulders. “That’s it? That’s your answer?”
He asks. “Pretty much,” she states openly. “So I’m not in
heaven. I’m just in a shoulder shrug. Awesome makes sense,” he says.
“You are focusing way too much on things that don’t matter. This is
literally nothing. Physically it is nothing. It feels like something, the sand,
but it is all nothing,” she states. He turns to look around him. Watching
as he changes his surroundings in an instant with only a thought. Watches as
towering trees take over the sky. The sound of the waves still crashing in the
“Why am I here instead of someplace else?” He asks
her. “Because from what I know you were kind of an asshole and even you
have admit a tad bit selfish,” she answers her voice coming from behind
him. “I’m not an asshole and I’m definitely not selfish,” he snaps back.
“Oh really? You’ve been here maybe, well you’ve been here a long time, but
you’ve only been here in this part of nothing for five minutes, and when you
decided to fix my breasts you went with two D’s rather than two A’s. Hell you
could have made me a man, but you didn’t. You chose to keep me as a woman.
Asshole in my book,” she tells him. “I’m not an asshole okay?”
He turns to face her only to find her completely naked and starring back at
him. “I guess you aren’t selfish either?” She asks as though nothing
has changed. “You tried to kill yourself and left everyone behind to shift
through the mountain of shit you left behind. No one asked for that. No one
wanted that, and yet here we are,” she states. She sits down on the newly
formed grass that has appeared before them, “I’m going to let you think about
that for a moment.” She sits with herself exposed pulling the blades of
grass by her feet one by one as he watches her. In an instant she is fully
clothed, “I’m not an asshole and you can’t talk to me like that.” She
doesn’t even bother to look up at him. “Like a broken record this one. At
least you haven’t tried to touch me this time,” she says under her breath.
“And if you aren’t then why do you think you have been here so long?”
She confronts him holding up the blades of grass in the form of a crown.
“You are in control of this and all of this, and still you have no idea
what is going on?” She stands up and all the blades of grass scatter
across the ground. “I don’t know,” he shouts in frustration. “I
wake up in an office, then I’m on a beach, and now I’m in a massive forest with
you every step of the way. I don’t know what is going on,” he screams as
the world around him shakes. “They said, well you said, well they
mentioned,” she says as though she can not think. “They said that you
were like a TV constantly flipping between channels,” she finally gets
out. “Do you honestly believe that made any sense or somehow answered a
single question in my head?” He snaps back. “Yep I do because like I
said I am you so, if I think it or say it, it is because you already believe
it. None of this is new. We’ve had this conversation a hundred, a hundred and
fifty times, but it ends the same every time. Think about what you were
thinking about before you woke up,” she touches his face gently tracing
“I think I lost it,” he says to her. “Lost what?” She asks from behind a desk. “The ability to write. The ability to say anything of actual meaning.” He stares into the nothing that surrounds her. “Why do you suppose that is?”
I hope you enjoyed this story… The first one of this cycle… tried to come out strong… never know how anything will turn out until it posts… Chewing On Glass will be presenting a wide variety of stories this cycle… trying to express the wide spectrum of emotions that I am made of… also trying a few things out… trying to get better at all of this… Want to get better at third person perspective… not my go to style… As with trying anything new… there is a lot of trepidation… but don’t worry… things will always be dark… it is where I live after all… can shed your skin over and over… but you can never shed where you are from…
So what the fuck was this even about?… with the dark theme of suicide… trippy ass locations that don’t make any sense… (If you liked this aspect of the story… wait until I release my next short story book… there is a story in there that takes this theme to the max…)… This story was actually not about any of those things… well it was on the surface… the real theme and inspiration for this story was writers block…
This story was about the annoyance of trying to write something over and over for it to only turn out to be shit… the ups and down of how our brains work… feeling trapped yet knowing you have all the tools to escape… wanting to smash your head into a wall to get the ideas out… only to know that it would do nothing in the end… it was a tricky story to write without giving away all the cards… so in the absence of thought and the frustration of writing nothing of actual meaning… I came up with this story…
As usual my favorite character is the woman… I love her care free… give no fucks… this is how it is attitude… writing bad ass… strong women are my favorite characters to write… I love the idea that in this story… for me at least… that there is this duality of her… she is the one in control… yet has no control at all… a pawn and the ruler of the kingdom… a guide and the true representation of it all… “Hell you could have made me a man, but you didn’t”… That line to me… was a turning point in the story where the main character begins to really question everything beyond the surface… there are moments about questioning everything really because that is what the story is all about… questioning ones thoughts and trying to find actual meaning behind nothing at all…
Writing from my humid, fart smelling, and spider infested desk has to be the pinnacle of everything in my life right now. Hammering nails into wood would seem almost more productive at this point. Year fucking zero on a life that has yet to begin. I wonder how many more Ghost reference I can push through my brain for no reason at all. Bored with all the time in the word. Sitting still seems like the only thing to do, but I have a mountain of shit I have to do for free. I guess we all bide our time doing something. Broken part of my brain won’t let me just enjoy life. No I have to be working towards something at a glaciers pace on a budget of zero. Maybe today will be the day I drink enough energy drinks and smoke enough cigarettes to kill myself. Unlikely, but maybe the alcohol will slip me into a comma that I don’t give a fuck about what other people think. It won’t, but I need to submit my thoughts none the less. Don’t get me wrong I love to write, but I could do without all the pressure of being liked. I have yet to find any audience that wants to hold me high above their shoulders and chant my name. Nope instead I am sweating my ass off in my garage plotting away a life time’s worth of work.
It’s hard out here
for a pimp. Working away at nothing is exhausting. I know what I would do with
all of the attention and it isn’t pretty. But to be honest I fear it all the
same. I don’t want to be the center of attention. That is how I have always
been. I don’t want to be someone’s hero. I like being the villain and I just
want to write. I love it. It is all I do and everything else is something I do
to pass the time in between thoughts. Get in line right? Well I already am in
line. Been there for a while waiting for my number to be called. Gone through
all the stages and been left behind. I can feel my heart growing even more
bitter with every day. I’m not there yet, but I can feel it coming around the
corner. Digging out the hole in my heart. The more it hurts the closer you get
right? Being sober is a long walk to the same exact spot. The more I say the
more I want, could use a drink. The depression takes a hold and all I can think
is maybe tomorrow. All the time in the world and I don’t want to do anything,
but ramble on. Ramble on about my failures in a game that makes no sense.
Nothing handed to you is worth anything at all. Anything worth anything won’t just be found. Stumbled upon maybe, but odds are that it won’t. Digging a four foot grave because six feet seems like too much work. An analogy for my whole life. If only I could change something in my brain. Flip a switch and set all this shit to off. Wake me up when any of it matters and yet I know I’d never flip that switch. All this pain, all this effort, all this waiting has to be worth something. Even if it is worth nothing at all in the scheme of things. Life isn’t about anything other than living, but living is the boring part. The day to day drag of nothing at all. The best moments in life are the ones you don’t know you are living until they have already gone by. Remind myself that this isn’t over, but I know I want more. Feel it in my bones. Rattling around in my head to keep going for a dream that makes no sense. Who the fuck cares what anyone has to say when we don’t? Let alone pay for it? Print is nearly dead and I cling to its dying corpse in hopes that it will pay off. Seems very much like something I would do. Get it from my mother. This optimism that everything will work out if you work hard enough. Where the fuck I get this bitterness I do not know.
Threading the line between optimist and pessimist becomes exhausting over time. A fucking wave of emotions that crashes against the rocks of my brain. Will I or won’t I actually give a shit today? And even if I do will I even do anything with it or just sit and suffer? Living life stuck in between everything else is exhausting. Word of the day. Exhausted and bored with every thought. I could, but why should I? Stuck in between here and there and I just want to be there already. Though I have no idea where there is. Happy? Unlikely. Content? Stop trying to fit yourself into a box. Comfortable? In this skin? Highly unlikely. Fighting for something and swinging at nothing. A circle jerk with no pay off. Lost and lonely, and that is where I am today. Doing nothing at all.
If you click the links maybe some Amazon book magic will happen without you having to buy anything… I don’t know I am stupid and desperate… but if you have a Twitter account… you can click that link… and tell me how much life sucks… or how much I suck… I’m open to interpretation… don’t forget to use the hash tag… #BrokenThought….