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(The evening has dissolved into drunken slurrings as I spiral towards oblivion. Another day, here, yet also not just any other day.)

 

 

It's been hard. Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Another drink? Yessir, coming right up.

Really though, why am I so mad?

How about you take my picture, Maggie? Sometimes I wish there was someone around to catch me in these little moments. Like, 'yeah, this would make a good picture, right here.' Wish you were here for these little photo ops.

It takes a lot of patience to be patient. But I'm just trying to track down everything that's slipped through my fingers. You know the fool that I am.

I think I actually find it easier to resent people for the things they can't control than to resent them for the things they can control. It's easier for me to hate people for what they are, genetically, evolutionarily, at their essence. Rather than for their character and the choices that they make. Is that fucked up?

But...You wouldn't want to live entirely without hatred would you?

I've seen hell because I'm a part of it. So are you.

There's a wrong time for everything. You learned that the hard way, from your mistakes. I guess I learned it the easy way...from your mistakes.

The journey that we undertake is never in the name of vengeance. It's never in the name of love, and what you feel inspired to protect. It merely comes from the flawed notion of the attempt to fix something, for no better reason than for the fact that it seems broken. But god knows you'd just replace it if you only knew how.

I want you to be happy. But I don't want to be happy for you. I don't want to see your life. I don't want to know.

I don't want to be on the outside looking in.

There's no experience that's sacred enough to warrant a clear memory. I'll remember the extremes of you, the very best and worst of what you had to give, and I hope you do the same for me.

At the end of the day, I think I'm actually really good at helping people. I just don't like to. Idn't that fucked up? Hmmph. Yeah, idn't that fucked up.

We're done with rum and coke. We need to switch to bourbon, and...water I guess.

I wouldn't say I hate myself or anything. It's just that I've been here for a long, long time.

There is perhaps no greater burden on me than my own sex drive.

I feel like that's what we have to learn from the life of Kurt Cobain. You know, aside from his relationship with success and commercialism. It's his feeling of being trapped. Trapped into his relationship with Courtney, trapped into his relationship with his child, trapped into his sense of family and unwanted immortality, very much straying away from nirvana. Not that the man was ever at peace, you know, but still. He fell in a spiderweb and he found a way out, but he just went around in a circle. I don't ever want to be trapped. I don't even care that much about being free anymore, it's just the better of the two options. I want to be gone. I want to be home. I can barely fucking see.

Alright, let's. Let's just sit down for a second. We can just close our eyes for a minute right? There's nothing wrong with that. It's just another way that every daything ends.

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