June 17, 2010

I’m a bit down. You know, when your best friend attacks you like that. I mean, it is practically as if we are sharing a body. And then, he turns on you and he lashes out.

Sometimes, my friends, life is like an over-the-top door-to-door salesman who wants you to be able to sell yourself ‘if you’re going to be worth it’. Life can be a bitch that wants you to be presentable and on your best and worthy of attention.

That sucks big time because, mostly, I couldn’t care less than to sell myself. I am like the lead character in a show called ‘The Man Who Could Not Sell Himself.’ Worse: in a short story of literary pretensions; a short story without a real lead character, peopled with undead personalities of the type of fiction where no-one feels a sudden urge to fart (unless it is to make a point on how such a sudden-urge-to-fart-ness character puts into perspective the most supreme moments of romantic solemnity – which is obviously a most romantic point to make.

Yeah, I am that non-character. If the body doesn’t want me, maybe I should leave it … & you. You’re a bunch of losers that can’t be trusted to take any of this in earnest.

And now I was being O’Nest.


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