Shut Up
I thought I was dead when I found her
3rd of October 2000
A millimeter deviation from the route of existential destruction I’ve been forced to walk on:
I’ve met an actual human being with whom I am not reluctant to be associated.
But this feeling of interest is the worst feeling that my brain could’ve gotten intoxicated on; if there is a cure, please God, send me a receipt…
And make it free, because I’m sick of working…and I really can’t get rid of the cause behind it.
She’s my neighbor, you see, so unless I move out, everything I do is useless.
She asked me is I was new, presumably she hadn’t seen me around, which made me pinpoint her problem: she was new.
What could I say? That, no, I was here since ’91, but I had taken three years of absence from existence to fix my brain? Or maybe that I killed my sister and had to be thrown in a mental institution because I kept seeing her face?
Oh, and, by the way doc, your pills are only candies, because Lorelai’s wet eyes still scare the shit out of me in the mornings.
I told her that I was new, that I had moved from Phoenix, that I stood inside the house all day long, watching the fan like a retard (or a slug) and that I live in apartment no. 301.
She had so many questions that I got exhausted only by listening them, but she also had answers: she was from San Francisco, she had a very moody brother and she lived a floor from me, in apartment no. 201.
That information, I recall, were said with such a velocity that I seriously thought she had a sugar problem, but it turned out that she was late for school.
And even though she was late, she stopped for a few minutes to talk to me, which is not what normal people would do. They would kill you and not stop if they were late…
And that is exactly why I like her so much: she’s a weirdo, just like me…
20th of October 2000
The entire city rejects me.
When I walk the streets, eyes burn holes in me and then close to let the wounds ebb.
Whispers haunt my presence like the wails of Irish banshees, grieving the death of any soul that will approach me. Despite this clear warning, somebody jumped around me like a shielding dome.
Today I met Uriel Nicks, the name that scares the world more than mine.
He put his tense palm on the boy’s shoulder when he said that I disgusted him. It was a mere whisper, but I heard. I always hear. ‘He’s that guy that killed his own sister’;’He gives me the creeps’;’I wish he would go away’.
I’ve already been away for three years and I still want to leave. I hate this dirt that craves to be my resting place…
Anyway, Uriel made four eyes snap toward him, drawing the attention from my interested self, and those four eyes withered beneath his murderous glare.
‘He disgusts you, eh? You’d be pretty disgusting yourself if I bashed your face in,wouldn’t you be?’
And they were silenced for the rest of the day.
I remained sour and dark, my reaction to kindness since I returned from that lovely brain-washing facility.Kindness, unrequested, is a sign of hidden motives, usually dangerous motives.
I don’t want any danger in my life right now…
But my eyes seemed to crave it; I studied him and made visual remarks on every aspect of him that interested me, those features that might’ve scared the entire city. He glared back.
‘I didn’t do that for you, so you’d better not thank me’
‘Wasn’t going to’
He confuses me and confusion is higher on my ‘not-want’ list.
I don’t want anything…
I just want to fade to black…
A millimeter deviation from the route of existential destruction I’ve been forced to walk on:
I’ve met an actual human being with whom I am not reluctant to be associated.
But this feeling of interest is the worst feeling that my brain could’ve gotten intoxicated on; if there is a cure, please God, send me a receipt…
And make it free, because I’m sick of working…and I really can’t get rid of the cause behind it.
She’s my neighbor, you see, so unless I move out, everything I do is useless.
She asked me is I was new, presumably she hadn’t seen me around, which made me pinpoint her problem: she was new.
What could I say? That, no, I was here since ’91, but I had taken three years of absence from existence to fix my brain? Or maybe that I killed my sister and had to be thrown in a mental institution because I kept seeing her face?
Oh, and, by the way doc, your pills are only candies, because Lorelai’s wet eyes still scare the shit out of me in the mornings.
I told her that I was new, that I had moved from Phoenix, that I stood inside the house all day long, watching the fan like a retard (or a slug) and that I live in apartment no. 301.
She had so many questions that I got exhausted only by listening them, but she also had answers: she was from San Francisco, she had a very moody brother and she lived a floor from me, in apartment no. 201.
That information, I recall, were said with such a velocity that I seriously thought she had a sugar problem, but it turned out that she was late for school.
And even though she was late, she stopped for a few minutes to talk to me, which is not what normal people would do. They would kill you and not stop if they were late…
And that is exactly why I like her so much: she’s a weirdo, just like me…
20th of October 2000
The entire city rejects me.
When I walk the streets, eyes burn holes in me and then close to let the wounds ebb.
Whispers haunt my presence like the wails of Irish banshees, grieving the death of any soul that will approach me. Despite this clear warning, somebody jumped around me like a shielding dome.
Today I met Uriel Nicks, the name that scares the world more than mine.
He put his tense palm on the boy’s shoulder when he said that I disgusted him. It was a mere whisper, but I heard. I always hear. ‘He’s that guy that killed his own sister’;’He gives me the creeps’;’I wish he would go away’.
I’ve already been away for three years and I still want to leave. I hate this dirt that craves to be my resting place…
Anyway, Uriel made four eyes snap toward him, drawing the attention from my interested self, and those four eyes withered beneath his murderous glare.
‘He disgusts you, eh? You’d be pretty disgusting yourself if I bashed your face in,wouldn’t you be?’
And they were silenced for the rest of the day.
I remained sour and dark, my reaction to kindness since I returned from that lovely brain-washing facility.Kindness, unrequested, is a sign of hidden motives, usually dangerous motives.
I don’t want any danger in my life right now…
But my eyes seemed to crave it; I studied him and made visual remarks on every aspect of him that interested me, those features that might’ve scared the entire city. He glared back.
‘I didn’t do that for you, so you’d better not thank me’
‘Wasn’t going to’
He confuses me and confusion is higher on my ‘not-want’ list.
I don’t want anything…
I just want to fade to black…