A Very Serious Monologue

You think it’s like this, but really, it’s like this. It’s a file cabinet or a file folder or a bunch of file cabinets with a bunch of file hangers. It’s just there and you look at it and use it and put everything in it, all your little secrets that you hope Scott and Julie don’t look through while you’re out on break. You could lock it up but we both know there’s no fun in that. It’s the risk. Admit it. It’s just a ball pit and all of the balls are grey. At the bottom of the ball pit is a ‘meaningful’ conversation about Darfur and high school prom and a piece of shit and a gaggle of black kids juicin’ in the hood and Barnes & Noble and the latest Tom Jones album; but isn’t he dead? Do you even know who that is? You’ll find out. It’s like that.

But it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not at all what you’re thinking. It’s nothing like what you think it is. It’s not the final point of the game. You don’t make the basket. You sit and slobber in the middle of the floor on top of your blessed institution’s mascot, looking like a total ass. You ass. You’re an ass because you think it's not like that. And it’s like the word ‘tumultuous’. You don’t know how to use it even if you think you do. You don’t know what to do with it. Like when you thought you’d like to kiss that boy. You thought, “What can I do with that?” You’re like Icarus; but the sun is much hotter now than it was back then so you’re gonna fall even faster.  You’re an idiot, and I’m an old-timer even though we’re the same age. Who wins? I win. You think it’s like this and it is. And yeah, you’re right this time. But that’s only because I’m telling you.

It’s not the Super Bowl. It’s not a ticket to the Super Bowl either. It’s not even a ticket to the halftime show. It’s watching the Super Bowl with your cousins who made out last summer vacation; and they don’t know that you know. But you do know. It’s like that. Well, it’s something like that. It’s not a movie with your all of your friends but it’s all of your friends at a movie without you. You think it’s like love. Like you’re actually in love. Bullshit. Yeah, I would say it’s bullshit. It’s not a text message that says ‘I love you’. It’s a text message from your girlfriend’s sister, saying ‘I love you’. And she does love you. She watches you mount her sister from the basement staircase and she still loves you. Give her a kiss. Do it. What, are you a faggot? Do it. It’s like that.