February 9, 2010
You wake up in a dark world that seems to be on pause. All around you the pipes in the walls moan and creak, as you stretch your soggy bones. There is no escape from this morning. You have opened your eyes, which means that you have already lost the game.
In the corner is a pile of filthy stitched together fabric in a mound that some might call clothing. You wouldn’t though, because it’s too early to be able to talk. You decide to put it on again. After a wimpy shake to make sure that no cockroaches are laying their eggs.
Now it’s into the bathroom to drag a razor blade across your bed-creased face, as your eye balls burn and try to close up slowly.
Damn. You cut your face 3 times. Now you will have 3 little scabs on your face all day. And during tomorrow’s wretched morning, you will open those scabs up once more while dragging that dull blade over your face, in what would seem to an alien race to be some form of ritualistic self-mutilation.
While brushing your teeth, you glance over at the bottle of mouthwash that you bought for yourself to use, with your meager earnings, and realize that your disappointing roommate has decided that he will use it as well. No doubt using the cap as a cup to poor the mouthwash into before placing that little cup on his disgusting, gravy coated lips. This is why you keep everything you buy in your tiny room lately.
He is asleep now. And so are you. And so are all the fortunate people in America. Snug and warm in their beds. Smiles on their happy faces. Health insurance and white tees. And mouthwash without gravy bits floating in it.
You trip over bits of trash, a chair, dirty dishes and obscure DVDs from the 1970s which are always inexplicably in piles all over your living room. “Dear god, just let me find this front door. Why must I walk this gauntlet every morning?” You are a prisoner now. You are a feeble attempt at a man. When people see you they want to walk all over you. They see your eagerness to make them laugh as a weakness. They do what they want and take what they want, completely unafraid.
This is your life, as you walk into that snow. That cold, dark morning. Every footstep bringing you face to fist with that icy cold air. Your dreams are laughable. Your talents: unsatisfactory and your life’s destination: grim. You are trapped in yourself like a bird in a cage. There is no escape. No escape. No escape.