Tuesday, December 8, 2009

our bodies break

It seems as though anyone who's ever made it big has come from some sort of 'broken home'. "I had this problem," or "I had that addiction," and that is what ultimately pushed them to be incredibly passionate about something and succeed. It's the common Cinderella story, written in a thousand different versions.
I can see it now, my future. A few years will pass and I will find myself leading a terribly normal life, doing horribly normal things in an awfully normal place. I will be hating it all and most of all hating myself and every mediocre thing about me. I will turn to drinking and promiscuity to fill some imaginary void that I think is inside of me, and I will never be satisfied. I will watch ten million movies, the good ones and the completely crap ones, until my eyes turn square and my heart turns soft from all the choreographed emotion on the screen.
Who will I have to blame? My current self; the self I am now, writing this. It's not that I don't have to deal with all the things you read about, I do, but I am so numb. Not metaphorically speaking, not terminologically speaking, but actually emotionally numb. It just doesn't move me anymore, the cancer, the hostility in my house, anything. I just go on, thinking about really shallow things, and nothing else. Can someone tell me if that is fucking normal?
Help me scream.

Our bodies break
And the blood just spills and spills
But here we sit debating that
It's such a shame
My hand just kills and kills
There's got to be an end to that
There's got to be an end to that.

[Breaker – Low]

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