October 10th, 2004

this is me

and spend more money.

I keep on hearing all about how godawful everyone's senior year is... and I feel left out. I'm having the time of my life: good classes, good grades, being politically active, non-stop work, that lovely self-hatred that has decided to come back into my life for the new year.

I am watching the Third Party Presidential Candidates Debate. They are all a bunch of idiots. I feel incredibly disillusioned this year. Whatever happened to the 1992 election, when I fought with some girl (Laura, the towheaded four year old who left Cumberland in the first grade to move "miles away" - also known as Mount Prospect) over Clinton and the first Bush? Things were so simple, so black and white.

I love how difficult it is for me to see extremes nowadays. I always see the grey, the indefinites. I don't see anything in clear, certain terms. This is worrying, for absolutely no reason to speak of.

I really want to go out right now and do something, like go see some sort of a movie. I have no ride. I have no one to go with. I have nothing right now. Oh shit I should shut up before I get more annoying than I already am.

Actually, I think I shall go to Walgreens. At least it's within walking distance... and I could always do with some more bleach.

So now I go.
  • Current Music
    Pink Floyd - Time
consider it dug

my trip to walgreens: or, an essay which examines facets of society itself.

I walk through the streets in the pitch of the night to make my way to mecca.

The streets are teaming with life, with the souls and dreams of every person who has ever set foot or wheel or wing over them, yet nobody but myself is to be found.

They are all within their homes - their tiny little brick houses, tiny little wood houses, straw houses that are set aflame whenever the furies light upon the horizons or whenever the house decides to take it upon itself to free the souls chained within.

The street lights are off but the houses glow with lights and televisions and the technology that tends to rule the world as we know it. The windows are open and shades are not pulled, resulting in noise floating out and through the air, swirling with the falling leaves and the hot air that seems almost incongruous with the bitter chill of the night.

Screams and calls and cries within each home occur in what seems like every few hours, yet they are only seconds apart; lights pop on and off, in search of the burglars and thieves that always seem to be out to get them and only them. They are all so paranoid of something which seems so inevitable and, yet, the only thing they have to be paranoid of is themselves.

Then comes the sudden turn, the exit from loneliness and helplessness; the self-acknowledgement of nothing being right in the world while everything is. The cars fly past where they had not previously, creating blasts of freezing winds that seem like tornadoes of fear and hatred.

Lights pop up from every direction, always shining yet never lighting. Buildings move closer and closer to one another, huddled up together against the wind and the sheer terror of what might just be humanity itself, if not the artificial emotions of absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

And one of the buildings envelops me, the mecca I had previously been in search of. Lights everywhere and a warmth, of course, but it all seems wrong; all seems false. Nothing seems right in the world, not at all as right as it should be. This mecca is nothing like it should be - no sign of civilization, just the savage abscesses of an empty world.

I turn around and leave, re-entering the vacuum of the outside world. If not for the hollow void that I still held inside, it would be mecca. But mecca cannot be found so easily.

The streets seem to accept me as one of their own, a being of pavement - connected to everything yet lost to the world; and so I walk through the pitch of the night in search of what now feels like nothing but is really everything. The emptiness and loneliness take hold. I feel like nothing.

A being of nothingness cannot exist, so I wither away into wisps of smoke and fly to the ends of the earth.
  • Current Music
    Kidneythieves - Mustard Seed