If there was a God, we’d all be dead by now.
That’s the plan. Jesus, I hate the holidays, you pretend to like people you don’t. You tolerate and sit beside them while you share a meal and a fake smile. What’s the point? Is this what God planned for us on the last day of creation? Did he wonder to himself, well let me just make sure that Edmund here will want to completely fuck himself in the head while he has to sit through an entire meal with people he just can’t seem to tolerate anymore. I’d really rather be by myself these days.. I can just imagine myself on the top of Grand View Park on that lonely bench with my name carved in it. I know it’s there waiting for me. I’d sit up top there and wait for the morning dawn, and then jump off the cliffs and then maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about life anymore.
Ah, but there are so many things left unsaid. Things i hate and things I love seem to fall into the same category after a while. would you believe that at the end of the day I still fall for the same old girls with the same old fucked up lives? Sadly, the only ones I seem to attract are African Americans, or Milfs or Gays. It’s almost as if God is telling me i should just give up and go for an Older Mature Gay Black Man. Well, Fuck you God! Shit, man. I hate to make you an enemy but if that’s your plan you leave me no choice. But these are lonely times I suppose, and with them come lonely thoughts. These are the nights Bukowski and Thompson had perhaps, half in a stupor, 6 deep in a 6 pack of eye of the Hawk. Maybe I should fuck a telephone pole? Maybe I should lose my mind? Slowly or in a hurry? It seems that we all lose our minds after a while. After childhood and our brains stop developing and it’s all downhill from there.
I wonder if you can ever get drunk enough to forget about it all. Bottle after bottle, we look for the clues of what life is all about. We sit in silent contemplation while the world around us heaves and shakes and eventually throws up violently due to our mistreatment. We hear our peers shout don’t stop, can’t stop! But we’re already on the ground, our mouths caked with day old puke. Can we roll on our backs and stare at the stars one last time? Don’t make a wish, it won’t come true. Shake your heads and sigh, there isn’t enough future for all of us, but perhaps the few of us can find some peace.
I hear the wind blowing. The sky, the rain, another dark night in December. The rain drips and that’s the only sound I know. The wind howls for another hour, the dawn approaches and I’ve yet wasted another day in the life of a mad man. Death is a woman and she is kind. Do not fear Death, for she will come for us all. Flesh and bone, we are ethereal creatures. We shall be outlived by the things we possess, and if we’re lucky, we’ll find each other in Heaven.
And so I’ve come to the bottom of another empty bottle. Drunk on reality, sober in delusions. The rain will stop someday and then we’ll all come out in the sun. To laugh, and smile, and live because tomorrow sounds better than today.
-Edmund.
