boobsradley:

one day soon at noon
i’ll drink chamomile to prove
how well that shit works


a window pops up!
could it be you, on iChat?
fuck you, McAffee.


ambien you say?
thanks but i’ll skip showing up
nude at my super’s.


tapes of whale noises
great way to feel dumb for your
tapes of whale noises.


sleep eating, my ass
cigarette butts in mayo
are plain delicious.


try melatonin?
you would be “tried” as a witch
in 1602.


finally sleepy
just drifting off … PHONE VIBRATES!
oh cool, a groupon.

I often find my mind, when not occupied by tasks at hand, wandering to those I don’t run into anymore on the streets. I wonder how they are, what they’re doing, if they’re happy or sad or confused. I then wonder if they wonder about me in the same way, but I highly doubt this. It seems that in my life I meet many people who, long after I’ve seen them, stick out from my thoughts. I can’t image that I would cause the same resonance in people. It is not to suggest that I am boring or unattractive (which, at the risk of tooting my own horn, I am not), but that I often think I have nothing distinct to me that may trigger a recollection in my acquaintances or past friends. I don’t think I need to change or add anything to my personality; maybe I just need to cultivate certain aspects of it. Sharpening my mind probably wouldn’t do me more harm than good.

What I fear most is obnoxiousness. Overt loudness and thrusting your personality into people’s faces, whether they ask for it or not, is a huge pet peeve of mine. If someone wants to know something about me, they can ask. I don’t want to become one of those people who exclaim everything right off the first meeting. To me that screams insecurity. And why would you want people to know all there is to know about you? Doesn’t that sort of take away the mystery and excitement of meeting someone new and cultivating a relationship, platonic or otherwise?

Perhaps it’s just me, but I prefer people to approach others like one of those jawbreaker candies. You know, those layered stones of solid sugar about the size of a tennis ball? You have to spend time on those things, committing to the progression of each layer. You should want to get to their core, to want to understand them, but I think there is a lack of wanting to understand others in most relationships presently. We always need someone to understand us first, but waiting around for someone to ask you how you are makes for a very lonely existence.

It’s funny to think that when our eyes look at something, it is originally perceived as being upside down. Only after our brains process the image further is it reversed back to right side up. What if our brain does more than revert this back to something comprehensible? If our eyes see things for what they actually are, the mind, in an attempt to make sense of it, corrupts it further? Perhaps this mechanism is linked to the ignorant part of our personalities. Perhaps without this mechanism we would be able to see what things are in their purest, and truest states of being. If our brains did not flip what we see to suit our needs, to make our day-to-day life simpler, it would be harder for us to ignore the things that are wrong in this world. The suppression of this instinctual reworking that provides us with a sense of comfort as we go about our days seems a hard task. It is out of survival for our selves and our needs that we go along with this false perception of our situations, allowing our minds to focus on ourselves, what we need first before allotting a conscience to wander to others.

Breaking up with someone because you don’t feel anything for them anymore is one of the hardest things to do. They could either take it in a silent shock, making your exit that much cleaner. Or, they could get angry, embarrassed, and spew obscenities at you. Those sharp defense mechanisms sting, but its not the right kind of hurt. They are only temporary shots at the ego, which normally has a high rate of regeneration. You feel horribly, not because they are crying, but because you can’t even fake the same type of hurt. ‘Cold’, that’s what they’ll call you, then throw a last and feeble “whore” your way as you get up to leave. It almost sounds more like a plea then an insult, but there isn’t time to dwell; you have drawn the line and it is done. You walk away.