killing the tired
August 30, 1998
I know I should be able to do
much better than this. I know
that people should be leaving me
free money, but I don’t know
what to do with myself. I should
have people showering me with
attention all the time, since
everyone has nothing better to
do with their time. Why do
I think everyone has it harder than
me? I’ll come to the answer to
that sooner or later, trust me,
Now the new lawn chairs that are
rented. they are having a party and the
guests are here. When I was young I knew
parking was not allowed in our driveway.
Granted, mom swore this
morning that guests couldn’t park
here, but now she doesn’t seem to
have a problem with deciding anyone
can. Except me, of course. I will
always be the one who is busy
doing something wrong.
I had a headache for over six
hours, and no medication helped in
the past six hours. Nothing gets better
for me. I should have known that would
have happened - I should have
known that in advance.
It seems that sometimes I just get all
the bad bre-
aks. It makes me feel
sorry for myself, when I have nothing to
think about except my own sorry feelings.
My fingers are freezing in this stupid
house. The air conditioning has been on
all summer, and the air is on now, and
I’m wearing a sweater and slippers
right now
there’s no one to
complain to, because no one is around here
that can answer the simplest question
around here. That’s the rule of the
day, I suppose. Maybe I should
start doing that, too. when everyone
realizes there’s no one left to ask,
maybe then people will start trying
to answer their own useless questions.
Sometimes I wish it would just be
easier if someone just killed me and
got the whole process over with, or if
I would be forced to live into old
age. I don’t know if either option
would ever be anything to me.
This is what happens in my mind
when I’ve got nothing better to do
That’s just my theory. Am I really
that sad? Do I really have nothing better
to do
It’s always two in the afternoon
and there’s nothing to eat for lunch in
the fridge
I wish
my soul made an ounce of sense, I hate it
when people don’t make any sense, so
apparently their ideas are well, the lord
and master. I wish more things in the
world made sense. Then I’d be able to make more
sense out of things.
Everyone else has control over my
decisions, my choices, and my life.
That’s it. That seems natural.
Sometimes I think that all people are just out
to get me. Like if I drank too much, and then
floated, that would be appropriate. Sometimes
I think people just want me to be unhappy all
the time. That would seem natural. I think
I want to be unhappy all the time, anyway.
That would be fitting. So to speak.
I wish I could just drown or something,
and then just I could just float away. If I floated
away or something.
That would be a good answer. I
don’t think I could do anything too much, or float
away, or do anything too non-sensical that
would seem like something that I could not
have been capable of, I’ll have to save that
one for another day, then.
I know I am getter than all the fake
meanings, that mean nothing
to anyone, I know I am better than so much around
here, and now I don’t have a job, and now I don’t
have any money, and now I can’t even have a good
argument with someone about religion, or
philosophy, or something I might have learned in
school once. This is how it gets when you
get older. When you wait for age to tear you apart.
That’s what life is all about. Get ready for it.
Copyright Janet Kuypers.
All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.
|
