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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door



In 2008, I'll Get Me A Shotgun


I will also:
1.
Yield
2. Get closer to
God
3.
Job hunt some more.
4. Get closer to my
family.
5. Learn a new language.
6.
Finish at least one screenplay.
7.
Lose the extra weight.
8. Get a
driver's license. I will not buy a car.
9. I will
rule my world.
10. I will have my
revenge.

« Home | Jan 16 » | The Ledge of Reason » | The Cable Guy » | Spoils of War » | Massively Short Intrusion » | The Winter in my Living Room » | Milestone » | The messy room in my space » | Cell » | My least favorite question »

One Sick Day


It’s one rule, basically.
You count to ten… then swallow.
It’s the same attitude you’ve hung on to for the past zillion years.

Even when you’re sick, you can’t help it. The virus always finds its way through your body, your mind, your heart. If only you could sneeze it all out; everything. One mighty blow of salvation.
But you can’t.
You gotta swallow the goddamn pill… and hope and pray that by the time you wake up, you’ll be a new man.

When you’re on medication, everything looks different. Colors are different, smells are different. The way you look at them… and the way they look at you. Suddenly your mind starts making up shit just to be able to feel normal, like it’s in control, like the steering wheel’s all yours baby.

Deep down… you know nothing’s true, but you still believe in it all. You have to.
You need to.
You’re not a survivalist. You’re not a survivor. You’re one tiny fuck up in world that fits you real nice.

The clean suit you wear, the businessman handshake, the familiar smile, the words you’ve said over and over, the clean shave, the short hair cut, the professional bullshit… all of zero value when not accompanied by major sucking.

You start to vision their conspiracies, their treasons. The way they took you for granted so many times. The way they want you right where you are, down there, so they could look at you from their ivory tower and smile, knowing that the world is still safe. You start to see them for what they are, maggots, filthy maggots crawling up your spine, sucking your blood vessels dry. You start to wonder if these are all hallucinations. You lose control, you lose balance, you lose hope. Everything gets blurry. Everybody is a ghost. Your mind loses its structure as all your men line up to form one digestive power exerted over that damn pill. You lose reason… you lose faith in ethics. Reality loses its value, shapes lose their dimensions… and everything starts to seem like one heavy fluid that you sink in with no hope in redemption, all bottomless and proud. Then your body hits something. It’s the truth. But you shut your eyes and look away. You don’t wanna know. You swim away and sink deeper. You don’t want to know. If there’s any certainty in your life, it’s that you fear the truth. That small ounce of trust that you keep in your vault is priceless. You don’t trust anyone and giving away that last ounce kills it all. Without hope… you’ll be like the rest of them zombies.

The truth is, with the right amount of sedative… we’re all zombies aren’t we? Your red nose becomes a tourist attraction and your eyes become swollen and warm. Your ears… can’t hear them talk about you behind your back… You can’t hear them laughing.

Deep down, you know you’re get back at them for the shit you never heard, for that knife you felt in your back. Deep down… you envy their treason. If only you’d have thought of it earlier. You’ve become one with them. Adaptation was Darwin’s fucked up theory whose primary ideology and thesis factor… was survival.
Deep down… you know you’ll get your revenge.

More cough medicine? I know you don’t want to think, to wonder about what may… to fear, to feel suckered.

Tough luck, ol’ champ…

Such a waste of key taps.

To the worst birthday ever.
Cheers…

Hi
A beautiful place here!
Excellent post! You are Master.
Thank you.
have a good day

You're right. When you're sick/ill, the world feels, looks, and smells different. The rest follows.

Salemtak.

whoaaaaaaa!

That is some fucked up shit, man. Expressed very well though...

we should talk.

David,
Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.
Have a great day yourself.

Posh,
Yet the world feel different still. :)
Allah yesallemek.

Now.. let's see.
I think it took me a whole minute trying to decide whether I should call you Frank or just Guy? Funny.

Well, thanks man.
It has been fucked up, let me tell you. The sickness is almost over, but somehow things are still a bit blurry. I just hope it's only a bitter aftertaste that will fade out with time.

I just checked your page and it seems like I will be a regular visitor. Nice work!
You are welcomed to add me if you use windows live messenger.

I think it made me really sad to read "to the worst birthday ever"

I wish you were better...
I truly wish you were happier...

I'm sorry

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