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I was on a couch and I didn't want to be there anymore. I didn't want to be in the house and I didn't want to be in Idaho. I wanted to go and I wanted to not come back.

He was a poor excuse for a man; a poor excuse for what a boy thought being a man meant. I didn't care anymore that he was drunk, I made up my mind I would not find him funny, ever.

He made racist jokes and, in my head, I kept hearing a They Might Be Giants song, but I couldn't bring it up because I already knew he wouldn't get it. He said nasty things to his girlfriend and his friends laughed and she laughed a pathetic laugh and oh isn't this so funny, because we're drunk? He talked about my nice titties, and he said it like that, titties, and the word seemed so small and horrible. I should have been offended, but I was not. I knew there was no use in being offended; that he was too ignorant to know any better. I understood he was a product of MTV, video games, and absentee parents.

It was not an excuse. He was still not a good man.

He was not funny.

I decided neither was the person who brought me there.

The other kids were not smart. They did not understand my jokes and they did not make good ones of their own. They did not read anything and I could not talk about books to any of them. They wanted to know if I liked rap. Because all rap is about my upper-white-class life, yes.

One of the girls liked movies and cheese and that was entertaining for a while. If I could have picked one that I should have talked to more, it was probably her. The other two boys besides the poor excuse were alright for a while. One reminded me of a young Edward Norton. Before the Fight Club fame. He had the haircut and the goatee and the very nice eyes. The other boy was quiet and he might have been my favorite if I would have been able to talk to him. I could not tell if it was a nervous or shy quiet or if it was just an apathetic quiet. At any rate, it's probably the reason why he was going to be my favorite in my mind.

I went back to Idaho on a whim trying to figure out where I was heading in my life. I thought I was disattisfied in my current lifestyle and I thought maybe if I went to see people I knew many years ago, I would figure something out. As it turns out, I didn't.

Travelling back to my home state, I saw some of the most beautiful scenery. Scenery that I had passed by before or forgotten about or excused as, it'll always be there later.

I drove for miles and I realized, all I currently own is the here and now. I didn't need boys in Idaho to flatter me and I didn't need to reclaim a past I never should have had. For once I didn't ask if the glass was half full or half empty. I've always had enough to drink. The present is more than enough.

Well meaning? perhaps
Persuasive and charming? Hardly.
And there's the rub

Wanting it to be so is not enough; is never enough

At some point a chord must be struck
else it is not a song for my heart, and
why should I pretend it is so?
Why should I settle for less?

When did a plastic rose become a bouquet?
When did a text message become perfume?

I will not dumb down this heart,
just because it is out of practice;
just because it is on my rolled down sleeve

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