Everything Wrong

As we sit together, sipping the cafe latte, she tells me that everything about my life has been wrong, and that I must take my time to realize this. I take my time, then I leave, leaving her with a halfway consumed coffee mug and the receding sound of my footsteps. Not even Moroder's promise of eternity from a distant JBL can convince me to stay back now. Her final stare goes down into my conscience like a glass of fine scotch, but its uninviting nonetheless.

I get home and put on Moroder just to sort of replay through the dawn of that realization. Seeing the life that I'd lived, I'd assumed it would make me a good man, a public confirmation of that coming as I chance upon a field of flowers in a remote hill village nearing dusk, hand in hand with her, a pandemonium of parrots violating the skies and flying away into the horizon, their receding cacophony giving way to the soft sound of the water stream up ahead; then we kiss, and later push related status updates on Facebook. But now I only lock lips with one of my toothbrushes, then fall into a hard spot of trying to forget her (and remember sleep) which only brings in more memories, prepare some coffee as an indirect influence from the more recent memories, and decide to end my life.

The next morning I do not wake up.
Then I do. And with no visible dismemberment of my identity (or the hole in my heart), perform my vegetable functions as usual.

• Share this on del.icio.us
• Digg this!
• Stumble upon something good? Share it on StumbleUpon
• Share this on Reddit
• Add this to Google Bookmarks
• Tweet This!
• Share this on Facebook
• Share this on Mixx
• Subscribe
• Buzz up!
• Share this on Linkedin
• Submit this to DesignFloat
• Share this on Technorati
• Submit this to Script & Style
• Post this to MySpace
• Share this on Blinklist
• Share this on FriendFeed
• Seed this on Newsvine

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone