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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1208398-The-fight-to-Lose-To-win-everything
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Activity · #1208398
I guess this is how i feel?
Drugs take our inhibitions away. They take that tiny part of our consciousness that protects us from doing things that shouldn’t be done and saying things that shouldn’t be said and let’s everything promptly come out. And people should expect this sort of reaction about this. What so wrong with wanting to leave the harshness of always being in check? Why are we in check to begin with? What is holding us back?
I have an immense fear of being left alone, of being alone, of calling out and having no one shout back. I bought a spider man walkie-talkie the other day. It is a Barbie sized spider man with batteries in his ass, a right arm that doubles for his antenna, and speakers in his dick. And I turn it on because my friend has the other one and all I hear is static. “Mayday Mayday.” And I say it louder and louder and every time I let go the static comes back.
And I’m starving right now. I’m craving a chocolate bar specifically a Snickers bar, but I’m not going to go get it because the last thing I want to be is that fat girl who no one wanted to hang out with on a Saturday night. And that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I am intensely social and failing in independence. I’m a terrible friend offering no stability and tend to be able to offer no worthwhile or useful sympathy. I get sick more often than not and drink myself into oblivion. I am loud and offensive but quite and passive when I feel it suits the situation. I’m needy and not deserving. I’m not trustworthy at all. I tend to be rather flaky.
I make promises that I fully intend on breaking. I avoid arguments but hold a grudge. I hate confrontation unless I accept the terms and I’m never wrong. Well I am, but I’m usually too stubborn to accept that. I don’t like doing things that I don’t want to do and I’m selfish. When it comes to feelings I lack any type of understanding. I feel that I should feel sad or I should feel guilty because I understand the situations but I don’t have that ability which I think is beginning to have an effect on my relationship with a boy. I left my room once today and that was to get food.
And I think that you can look at most people and find one or two of those seven deadly sins. And the only way I can convey them properly is through writing. What is that about? What is it about the written word that time and time again trumps the spoken word? What has AIM done to our generation? The spoken word is endlessly interesting. It expresses something deeper than just the written form. It conveys emotion, sarcasm, facial expression – it gives a word life. People always say that the words literally leap off of the page that they fly out at you and you have to look at them in all their true form. In their unalterable, emotionless form.
And you read books to take you to another place, to a place where all of the voices are some variation of your own, and where all of the people are exactly who you would want them to be. And no one can touch that. None of your little characters can take your voice and run wild with it. They can’t cross things out and give some expression to a fixture of your endless imagination. The only thing they can do is be exactly who you want them to be.
Sometimes I lie in bed and imagine a different life with no strings attached. With no family, lots of money, and friends that will never leave but who don’t need to stay. Because money ties you down, to live a life with no strings attached I would have to have no ropes to hold me on the ground. Family is always there for you, which leads me to believe that I’m required to be there for my family. What if I don’t want to be? So we are related by blood what does that mean? We look alike? We certainly don’t think alike and we don’t sound very similar and we don’t act or do things in a similar fashion.
And in a land where acid rains down from the sky and M&M’s can solve all of my problems I could be free. Where cell phones didn’t exist and every soul could be seen for exactly what it was. The scarred and scared and lost folks would have no defense and that sarcasm and bleak humor that they have wouldn’t be there to strip people of their defenses too. And chocolate would be served on trees and people wouldn’t get fat. And the promised land could be a back yard somewhere and religion could go down the overflowing Porto-potty that just fell off the back of that truck. We could forget that we fought for things, and that we had always struggled to survive. Struggled to get off the highway on the Grand Central Parkway exit and not that other one. Where I could wake up in the morning and not feel like shit and where the paralyzed could float instead of sit in wheelchairs that have the world looking down on them.
It would be a place where I could express myself with emotions and not with my witty comments. Where I could follow through with things and write for days when that’s all I really want to do. People would work because they should, but homeless and jobless would be restricted to only the willing. They don’t tell you when you are growing up that money is such a scarce commodity in most homes. They tell you that it grows on trees and that if you feed your already cut flowers enough they may let you in on their secret. And if you plant a dollar bill in the ground somewhere you could be endlessly wealthy. They don’t tell you about the silent killer known as inflation or how there’s this thing called bankruptcy and lay offs. You know about getting fired but that’s just a vacation right. And you think that your parents know everything even though you have already proved them wrong four times by the time you’re three.
And you want to tell the world just what you think of it, but you’re afraid. You’re afraid of who you might offend, of whose friend you might be talking about. You’re afraid that people won’t open their arms and love your opinions. That they’ll eat them like rotten and moldy bread and spit them back at you in millions of pieces. And you think that crying solves everything and that the five dollar bill your dad just gave you for finishing your dinner could buy you a house one day. You don’t realize that you’d probably need a million of them to buy the house that you always imagined.
And the idea of marriage, and relationships is only ever about your parents. You don’t know about sex or what it does, you don’t know about insecurities or about hang over’s. You don’t understand the point of getting drunk and you think that people on drugs or who smoke are disgusting. You love birthdays and all of the presents and you think that the money that is paying for them will never end. You think that the daddy bank will never be emptied.
Time isn’t something that you think about it. In fact you’re pretty limited to today and tomorrow. The weekend is when you get to watch television and that new show you heard about. Also it doesn’t matter what’s on TV because you love it all. You love commercials and you love the food channel because you want to eat all of the food. School is the biggest thing you ever have to do and that ginger bread party coming up is also pretty exciting. You do homework on time unless you absolutely forget about it, which you almost never do, because your teachers put it in a folder for you. You think that it rains so that you can play and that everyone plays golf. You are always struggling to pick our your own outfits but gradually as you get older they become less ridiculous and more conservative. You are not afraid to dance or sing in public, to be perfectly honest you don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t do this.
You look in the mirror to see how your hair looks with the new bow you got and you only spend two seconds on the outfit and your perfect childlike body. You don’t worry about what you eat you just want to eat until it hurts as long as your parents don’t find out. It’s perfectly acceptable to eat after 8, to snack on chocolate chip delicious cookies all day and then have ice cream for dinner. You either try on your soccer tot’s team or you don’t but no one cares if you just run off of the field mid game because you got bored and it seemed like a good idea.
You laugh in movies even if no one else is and you have no problem telling someone what your favorite movie is even though that may change on a daily basis. Speaking loud seems appropriate because everyone is so much taller than you and you have no qualms about meeting new friends of your parents. You obviously need to assert yourself as the troublemaker around here.
You don’t make fun of people in a malicious way you just sometimes think that people are funny looking. You pick your friends based on who is participating in the most exciting activity. You draw rainbows with only green and red because it’s almost Christmas time or maybe Easter but that doesn’t really matter.
The New York Ballet’s The Nutcracker is basically the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you and you will probably be talking about it for weeks and also will most likely ask your parents to take you to the candy land because it’s just amazing. And that women with the huge skirt, is that how you have children?
And the older that we get the harder it is to imagine being young. To go back to a world filled with endless opportunity and a carefree spirit that could rival even the happiest person on shrooms. And when you run away to college and have to figure out what you want to do with your life, a gold fish doctor doesn’t seem like such a good idea even though you wish you had been one back in the day when good old Machiavelli died. You heard your father use that word once in a conversation on the telephone, and you probably still don’t fully understand how to use it and so you named the first pet you had after it. It seemed smart at the time.
And all of the sudden people have expectations for you. And it’s not okay to think that reindeers fly and that the bible is actually true – unless you like that shit or you live in the south? Is that a generalization? Here’s how much I care.


© Copyright 2007 Keller P. Ripley (tedders414 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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