Some days.

Some days just ain't so easy.

Every day people do things they know better than to do. Whether they lie, fib, omit the truth, forget to clean the bathroom, drive on an empty tank and get stranded on the road, stay up until 3 AM on a workday because they were at a casino....

I'm fascinated by gray. That shade that isn't black and white, but that horrible real-life mixture of both that is everywhere and everything. I envy people that can see in monochrome. To be on the Hitchcock end of the television spectrum. I really, really wish that things were so easy. In Star Wars, there were characters that I found far more interesting than the others. Though Occam wants his razor to help us, the reality is that life is never so simple.

What's equally interesting is how much the phrase "hindsight is 20/20" holds true and still manages to piss you off. It doesn't matter if you should have known better, it still happened. Smug fuckers like me walk around with their heads in they air, pretending like they're helping you by being superior and telling you how you could have worked it out. Lots of people have better relationships than anyone they know, and are healthier than their friends. Opinions are like assholes - they spike their hair and drink jagerbombs. (That's how that goes, right?)


Cryptic emo bullshit. God, I'm everything I hate in the world. You know what, little blog? Let's try being honest instead of stupid. I have friends that read these and laugh, so let's just tell the truth. Someone I cared for hurt me today, and I knew it was going to happen. I'd say something jaded like "it usually does", but that's not true. I manage to stumble through life really easily sometimes, to the point where I've been told that I only succeed because I'm lucky. If this is luck, you can have it. I'm sick to death of it.

What's worse is that I can already tell that it's going to make me bitter, which is what I really need right now. I have a new job that I feel like leaving to go vomit, and I'm lying to my boss about having a migraine because it's easier than explaining things in reality. What am I, 12? (there's suddenly a conveniently placed kleenex box here. I am immediately suspicious of angelic intervention, but don't say that out loud.)

I love that I get to pretend to be adult about this, while she gets to post sad things on facebook and watch all the little boys who want to screw her try to make her feel better. If it works, great, a douchebag thinking with his penis and who lives and breathes ulterior motives are your real friends.

If I didn't have a coffee appointment after work I'd go home and get shitfaced until I had to wake up tomorrow morning. You know what? Fuck this. No one reads the blog, no one cares, and I'm a baby. I'm going to shut my trap, get back to work, and go home like a normal fucking adult. If I swear more it makes me feel better, so I'll just drop f-bombs under my breath all day, like that guy who pushes a cart down Grand Ave. full of junk.


At least I won money at Mystic Lake last night. I've never won money at a casino before. Always end on a positive note, right? That's how this works. I'm a cynical optimist, after all. Look on the sunny side of the compost heap. The glass is half empty, but that's because it's full of maggots, and no one likes maggots. Well, no one who hasn't got gangrene.

Fuck.