I've had dreams. I am lost inside a broken light bulb
, with only one particularly inane thought to fill my mind. I was never meant to exist outside of the glass shards and burnt, twisted wires. I was never meant to exist outside of the glass shards and burnt, twisted wires
. You'll excuse my repetition, as it has been only a short time since my escape. I can only imagine I will be years and still stumbling along as clumsily.
Inside I was rarely bothered by the loneliness that plagues most everyone I've come to know. I'd say, at the risk of presenting myself a cold human shell
, I was rarely bothered by any emotion at all. With the same inane thought filling my head I simply walked along, an unbroken path through the nothing. Someone once said that if you could fit inside of nothing, you might never die, because it has no end
. Subsequently, someone assured me, I could stroll along forever
. This left me wondering if those long summer days were really an untapped fountain of youth
. I will tell my supervisor on Monday that my absence of motivation is rooted solely in my new belief system: salvation in nothing
. One day someone will find my journals and someone will call me the new Jesus. Everyone is looking for a Jesus of their own. I cite the JESUS IS COMING
bumper sticker series as solid evidence that I could be accepted, even worshipped, given the proper neon sign
placement and a loyal manager.
There is nowhere quite like a pastel sky in the evening, I have often found myself head-crooked gently to the left staring into the soft coloured streaks and wondering why I have never been able to cook rice properly
. After extensive research, a surgical laser procedure to remove several incompetence genes, regardless of endless ridicule, I have come to accept this fault in my character, this epicurial disablement. I wonder how one thing so perfect as cloud-filled skies could exist, and another so ruined as myself could so much as fit in there somewhere.
And I almost always burn the toast