As I sit on the toilet I contemplate dropping an open knife onto my foot. For no reason I do nothing. The blade is not sharp; the point of the knife is acutely sharp and could cause blood loss. I have no bandages and I don’t feel like walking to the store and soiling my shoes with what keeps me alive, my blood. I make a call. I stop considering. The weather is sticky. The consideration of this fact is hard to surpass. The weather is so hot in fact the basement level apartment I rent is causing me to sweat. My shirt sticks to me in places that I thought it would never. Am I wearing Velcro? Water beads form on the side of my beer can. I can picture how cool it is inside. The drink I take prays for the cold wave of liquid to bring down my core temperature. This beer has to change my day. It does nothing, yet it makes me think. It does something. The washer is broke and my apartment floor looks and feels like the hide of a mature buck in November, ready for the kill. I feel no relation towards it; the girls that walk on it feel no relation to me. I need new friends. Maybe I need new goals. Pink Floyd always helps. Uncomfortable as it may be this day will go as others go. This day will last for 24 hours and then it will be a new day, as someone once told me while I was complaining about work. I stopped complaining. I stop complaining when I see someone worse off than I am. I complain about how my legs hurt and I see someone in a wheel chair. I complain about my hair and how it is going back and I see a woman with no hair. Can I just complain and get away with it? Being self-aware does not help your consciences it only helps you empathize with others, mostly when you don’t feel like doing so.
Days consist of work and thinking. The day consists of not thinking about work, also. I choose where I work, and my work chooses me to get raped by their policies. I work and I do nothing with my mind, yet I do everything with my hands. I sit and think about not working most of the time. I enjoy a beer, a bike ride, a sexual encounter, and peace. Am I that hard to please? No.
The beach consists of sand, people, and breasts. I think the latter is my favorite. I cannot go to the beach without fantasizing about breasts; how they look, how they feel, what they are shaped like. Wow. I need to get a steady girlfriend who I am into.
I have off and I am no nearly as happy as I should be about this. I feel that the days I work are mundane and actually make my life worse, yet the days I have off make me feel useless. I sit and wonder who is wondering about me. I think that if no one calls I am a complete loss. I have no idea how to understand love. I wish I were in love now. I work for money.
My friends get girlfriends and I become single, when I have a girlfriend my friends are single. I wish I could understand this equation.