This is my writing.

seventytwohoursawake: I AM A BIG BUTT

Mon, 20 May 2013 22:26:00 -0400

I AM A BIG BUTT

GUYS I DID A THING

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 16:23:48 -0400

It’s for my screenwriting class so the formatting is not tumblr compatible, but here’s a thing I did, party inspired by my mom.

words

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:25:01 -0400

there are so many beautiful arrangements of words

hemingway vonnegut shakespeare

but no matter which way i arrange these words

you won’t shine your

eyes

or contract your

heart

so who cares?

Ever wondered what my voice sounds like? I did, and now I regret...

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 17:46:06 -0400

Ever wondered what my voice sounds like? I did, and now I regret it forever because I sound ridiculous.

Either way, here’s a thing I did.

I could hear sniffling and short gasps for air. She was crying again. The sound yanked me out of sleep and threw me into a new state of consciousness. Now completely mindful of what i was hearing, i listened. The sounds she made where disturbing, they weren't sounds a human would make but more of an animal. Her whaling got increasingly louder, as she let go of her dignity no longer caring who heard might hear her. I lied there perfectly still while my eyes adjust to the darkness that engulfed...

Sat, 23 Feb 2013 00:52:19 -0500

welp

Mephisto's Cafe

Sun, 09 Dec 2012 22:23:39 -0500

internetallnightsleepallday:

HEY COME READ MY LONG-ASS PLAY THAT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON FOR A MONTH ABOUT PEOPLE IN A FUCKED UP RESTAURANT

Read More

tensing and untensing past tensing is all i am passed passing and gone we passed each...

Mon, 15 Oct 2012 20:23:00 -0400

tensing and untensing

past tensing is all i am

passed passing and gone

we passed each other

tense

the passing tents are where we were

its simply past tense now

an interminable dense feeling in my stomach and my brain a cloud of razor butterflies flowing...

Mon, 15 Oct 2012 20:20:36 -0400

an interminable dense feeling in my stomach and my brain

a cloud of razor butterflies flowing through my chest

my hepatic vein working overtime

pounding

cascading

shimmering

Another monologue

Thu, 04 Oct 2012 13:13:29 -0400

Sam. This night will never exist again. We will never have a conclusive experience of being together on this night ever again. Every experience we have is unique in that we will never experience something just like it again. We can come close, but our memories will cloud and we’ll forget each other’s names and we won’t have anything more to say to each other. We’ll soon forget the magic that happened tonight. We’ll forget how it felt. Our memories will fade. So please, just stay tonight. Just one more night. Give us one more chance to make something perfect, to make something that could transcend the bonds of time and memory and allow us an experience that can’t be forgotten, one that demands to be in the forefront of the list when we think of happy times. One where memory isn’t faulty or exaggerated and we can see everything clearly and the details come to us fast, like we’re still here. Let us be something amazing, let us step outside of time, just this once, and become something better than human, something more than the sum of our parts. Please, don’t go. Not yet. Don’t pack up your bags. I know you leave tomorrow, but please, just stay for a little while longer. Have a conversation with me. Let our words become more than physical sound waves, let them become brands that sear this night into our minds. Let our love spill over and outside our perceptions of what is and what isn’t. Let this night come to us fifty years in the future, let it become part of our being so we never have to have it fade from our mind. Let us always feel like we can be loved. And I just want to take your keys and throw them so far away you can’t find them and I want to stop the rotation of the earth so the night never ends and I want to stop everything and keep this moment like a snapshot in my wallet and come here anytime I need to feel love. So please, stay just a little longer. Maybe I can get some inspiration and come up with some way to invent teleportation and we’d never have to be far from each other again. Maybe our love could be so strong that the earth bends and morphs and brings our destinations closer to each other. Let our love destroy the seams of time and allow this night to go on for infinity. Let the rest of the world burn as long as this house stands. Don’t. Please don’t start packing. Not yet. It’s not time. It can’t be time. What we have is too strong to be killed by the silly rules of reality.

Who am I kidding? We have five hours until sunrise, your plane leaves in six. Time inexorably marches on and in six hours you’ll be carried across gaping oceans and expansive jungles and you’ll be gone. I’m losing part of myself. We weren’t perfect, but maybe almost perfect is all that we mere mortals could possibly aspire to. Pack up my love, I know you’re going to a better place. Maybe I am too.

Monologue assignment.

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 20:52:52 -0400

Thomas: This all started with a dream I had. It was after a particularly awful day at work and of course my personal life was in shambles, because when wasn’t it really? I drifted off to sleep late that night, and I slipped into the longest dream I’d ever had. It started with my birth. I saw my mother and father, lovingly looking at each other over me. Of course, I don’t know how my brain had that data since I’d never seem them that way. I saw my tragic first birthday. How they fought in their room while I slept. I saw the broken look on my dad’s face when he realized the relationship was irreparable. I saw how my mom looked down at me and kissed me once while I was asleep before she left, walking out of my life forever. Are you understanding my meaning here? I dreamed of things I couldn’t possibly have experienced. I saw my mom’s face clearly for the first time. I never have again.

I watched my life drift ahead in front of me. I relived perfect experiences. My first kiss, my first love. I experienced meeting her for the first time. I watched myself stumble through awkward conversation. I felt the warmth of her embrace again, I swear it. I experienced the perfect way she smiled at me when I said something ridiculous and the way her wonderful golden hair shimmered in the August sun. I wasn’t just remembering it but I was feeling it, feeling something that had been gone for years. Stolen away by life and other love and my own stupid mistakes. I saw the cracks in our relationship so much better this time. If only I could have stepped in, I could have changed everything. It was gone too soon, like everything good in my life. I experienced every moment leading up to the moment when I fell asleep that night, hell, I experienced everything leading up to this moment right now. I was shocked as my dream slid right by the night I fell asleep. I saw the next day, the next week, the next month. I saw the heat death of the universe eons after I die on your command. I saw a perfect future, where society as a whole had been fixed, if it was ever broken. People were happy. Crime had been eliminated. The entire world cooperatively made things better for every human being on Earth. And all of it was a chain reaction from what I did. Yes, ladies and gentleman of the jury, I did it. I did it for you, I did it for her. Something bigger than myself communicated with me that night and I have been changed ever since. I killed those one hundred distinguished men in cold blood because something urged me to. I didn’t want to, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I didn’t do it because I wanted to, I did it because I was supposed to. I know you’ll sentence me to death, I know you will, just as I know what my love’s favorite book was, and as I know the color of my mother’s eyes, and as I know this future will come about. So sentence me and get it over with. You have a paradise to wait for.

This was another assignment in my playwriting class.

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 20:27:58 -0400

The first line had to be “I can’t do this.” and no one could say more than ten words at a time. That kind of killed my dialogue options, so that’s why I’m not super proud of this. It’s kind of here just for the sake of it being a complete record of my writing.

Tom. I can’t do this. Not anymore.

Ben. Do what exactly? We’re not actually doing anything.

Tom. That’s the point. We do nothing at all.

Ben. So? Have you seen how good television is getting lately?

Tom. Let’s not watch people explode shit anymore.

Ben. What exactly are you saying?

Tom. (Stands up) I don’t know, let’s go explode shit for ourselves!

Ben. Yeah, free cable in prison.

Tom. I didn’t mean actually explode something. It’s a metaphor.

Ben. I don’t think that’s what a metaphor is.

Tom. That’s not what matters here.

Ben. Oh? And what does matter?

Tom. Other people. Let’s meet some other people or something.

Ben. Why? Most people are just watching TV like us.

Tom. Aren’t the ones not watching television the most interesting?

Ben. What am I supposed to talk to them about? Weather?

Tom. Dude, shut up and let’s go. (Grabs remote and turns TV off)

Ben. Fine. Maybe you’re right. Potential is in other people.

Tom. That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say all night.

Ben. Yeah well, maybe some fresh air is good occasionally

Tom. That’s the spirit. Let’s get out of here. (Both exit)

Forward (Outside a hospital, both characters are sitting at a picnic table) Patient 1:...

Wed, 29 Aug 2012 22:39:00 -0400

Forward

(Outside a hospital, both characters are sitting at a picnic table)

Patient 1: 25-30

Patient 2: 35-40

Patient 1. I don’t know how you’re going to do it.

Patient 2. Do what?

Patient 1. Leave here. I feel like we’ve both been here for so long that I can’t even imagine having an established life. Sometimes I watch these television shows and think about how people in society can actually control themselves and have discipline.

Patient 2. Yeah, it’s scary as hell, but what else am I gonna do? I can’t just sit here and rack up debt until the day I step off this mortal coil. This is a phase of my life and I think I just need to move ahead. I think you should too. You were here when I got here and you’re still gonna be here when I leave.

Patient 1. I can’t leave. I’m not ready for society to turn me into someone that I don’t want to be.

Patient 2. This isn’t your identity. You can’t just sit here and take your medication and participate in group therapy sessions and let your life pass you by anymore. I have to move on, and I really think you need to too.

Patient 1. Being here is who I am now. I chose to come here 6 years ago and I could’ve left anytime, but I can’t. I can’t leave anymore. My life isn’t passing me by, its already passed. All of my friends don’t know me anymore.

Patient 2. So what? You can make new friends. You made friends with me. How hard could it be?

Patient 1. People are scary. That’s part of the reason I’m even here in the first place. Nothing’s really changed since the day I checked myself in.

Patient 2. When I checked myself in you didn’t— no, you couldn’t talk to anybody without violently shaking, and even then you barely said anything. Now look at you, we’ve had so many full conversations. Come with me. Let’s check out together.

Patient 1. No, I can’t. Where would we even go in that scary world out there?

Patient 2. We’ll go forward. Together.

stop. disengage. stop white knuckling and let it float away. let it get caught in the never-ending...

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 14:32:46 -0400

stop.

disengage.

stop white knuckling and let it float away.

let it get caught in the never-ending fusion of the sun.

the things i tell myself as i watch you float away into another galaxy

gravity keeps me stuck in the same place as you fly to the adventure of a lifetime. im just a man, just a kid, the emotional range of an infant. worthless words written on worthless paper by a worthless person. i feel myself decaying.

stop.

disengage.

let yourself leave the ground.

nothing will ever grow again anyway.

Burlington

Fri, 20 Apr 2012 10:13:00 -0400

We’re standing at the top of the hill that we’ve walked up and down a million times. She’s telling me goodbye and I’m crying and I want to grab her keys and throw them far away. Far enough away where she’ll never find them and she can’t leave me and we won’t grow apart and she won’t fall in love with someone else and I won’t die alone and sad and crazy. But I don’t. Instead she’s hugging me and she’s crying. She takes a step back and she looks me in the eyes. I see my future reflected back at me out of her brown eyes. She blinks but her eyes are closed for an eternity as I realize the sky isn’t bright anymore and the grass doesn’t dance and the air is sour and my heart is in my hands and it’s festering from the inside and I’m choking and suddenly I cough up a ring that I gave her. Now I’m coughing up every gift I ever gave her in reverse order and finally I’m holding a deck of pink cards, still wet with my saliva.

She finally opens her eyes and I tune out everything but her voice and she says she’s sorry and the frayed wires of my brain can’t say or do anything so I stare through her listlessly and she’s crying again and I’m shutting down and I have no response and my mouth is sewn shut and my throat makes a funny noise and she telling me she loves me and I manage to croak out a reciprocation and she looks me in the eyes and I just concentrate on exchanging my carbon dioxide for oxygen. She blinks and flickers and I feel myself fade away and she’s telling me that it’s time to go and I sigh and my stomach is in my feet and my head is in the clouds and I can feel my blood pumping to my entire body all at once. She’s about to turn around and I want to say something but I have no words and suddenly existing is as hard as the struggle of Sisyphus and my hands are there one second and they’re mere outlines the next and I blink and she’s gone.

Smile

Mon, 16 Apr 2012 01:32:17 -0400

He woke up with a pounding headache, not helped by the fact that the phone next to him was blaring at him to answer. He finally shut it up by hitting the talk button.

“What?” He said, in a low voice.

“Thomas, I need you to come into the store, as soon as possible. I have to go out of town for a day, and you’re the only one available to come in. I know I said I’d be here all day, but it’s an emergency.”

“Dude, I’m hungover as fuck right now. I can’t deal with this shit.”

“It’s 2 PM on a Tuesday. Get your shit in gear and come into work, or don’t ever again.”

“Really? You’re pulling the ‘do it or you’re fired card’? God fucking dammit. I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“Be here.” His boss hung up.

Thomas checked around him for his bottle. It was tipped over on the bedside table. Cheap whiskey. All gone. He tossed the bottle some where in the room. He didn’t really care enough to have an idea of where it landed. He stumbled over his dirty clothes and opened the door in his shitty room. He stepped through into his combination kitchen/living room. He checked the fridge. No liquor. He settled for a large bottle of water. He chugged it down and emptied it, threw it somewhere on his floor. He went into the bathroom and checked underneath his sink. Nothing but empty bottles of alcohol. As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had long hair as black as the night sky. He had a beard, it wasn’t a fashion statement, in fact it looked awful on him and he knew it. He promised to himself that he’d shave one of these days. But the weeks of neglect had given him an unsightly beard. He contemplated showering, but realized it would make him late for work. His head still pounding, he went back into the kitchen and thought that he should probably get something to eat for his ride. He opened his fridge. It was empty, save for a half of a sandwich in a box with the knife he used to cut it. He grabbed the box and brought it with him. He was about to step out the door when he realized he’d forgotten to bring a pen with him for work. He saw one on the counter and grabbed it. It was a pen he had gotten from an alternative to AA back when he gave a shit about trying to restrain his drinking, back when someone gave a shit about him. It was red and it had a peculiar little smiley face on it.

Thomas shuffled out of the house without a bottle of alcohol in his hand. A first for a few years. He walked to his car and started it up. He pulled out of his driveway and started to drive to his job. Every time he got into his car he turned the radio on, hoping for something good. Every time he was disappointed.

He put the sandwich on the passenger seat and threw the pen onto the dashboard in front of him. He was grabbing his sandwich when it happened. A drunk driver blew through the intersection at 7th ave and 12th st. She was speeding at about 100 miles an hour when she collided with Thomas on the front passenger side of his shitty little car. There was a loud crunch as the metal of the car collapsed in on Thomas. His car spun out of control and took down a mail deposit box on the sidewalk and finally collided with a streetlight. He was entombed in the steel of his car. He could feel blood running down his chest. He saw his stupid little pen on the floor with it’s stupid little smiley face and he started laughing. Fuck, my head hurts, he thought.

internetallnightsleepallday: This is a really rough cut and it...

Wed, 28 Mar 2012 20:22:11 -0400

internetallnightsleepallday:

This is a really rough cut and it definitely needs work, and you kinda have to turn it up loud to hear the lyrics, but guys I will love you forever if you listen to it. Paul’s guitar work is pretty good too.

Also the title is: Love is a Sickness and Baby, I’m Terminal

Untitled

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 02:38:00 -0500

“Yes ma’am, I found some of his belongings. No, I don’t think it was suicide, but he didn’t try to get help, that’s for sure.” Her soft green eyes locked with the cops.

“I’m sorry.” The cop spoke again. “Would you like to see what I found?”

She nodded silently, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I’ve got a journal with mostly irrelevant entries, a few letters addressed to one Natalie Ayer, never sent, and some paperwork from the nearby hospital.”

“Let’s start with the journal.” The mother spoke up for the first time.

“Alright. In reading the journal, it has come to light that for a few years he was connected to Natalie in a very deep way. They were close for a bit, but then, well, I’ll just let you read the journal. Here, it’s opened to the first relevant page.” He slid the journal across to her.

June 23^rd, 2009

I met the most amazing girl today. I was working my last day as a dishwasher and she came to the restaurant. I caught her eyes a few times moving things in and out of the kitchen. We awkwardly smiled at each other. I went outside for my break and she followed me out after a few minutes. We talked and hit it off pretty well. At least, I hope we did. She’s got the most beautiful golden hair and her eyes are the deepest green I’ve ever seen. I have her number. I think I’m gonna text her.

June 25^th, 2009

We’ve been talking. She’s amazing. She laughs at all the dumb jokes I make and she likes all the things I like. She’s so interesting. I could talk to her for hours.

July 2^nd, 2009

We’re going out on a date tomorrow. We’re gonna see a movie and then get food. I can barely contain myself. I don’t know what to wear or if I should pay for everything or if I should kiss her after it’s all over. I don’t know, but I’m gonna text her now.

July 3^rd, 2009

The date went amazingly well. I think we only stopped laughing to eat. She told me she liked the time we spent together. We kissed. She smiled. I smiled.

July 4^th, 2009

I’ve always loved the fourth of July. Fireworks, ice cream, warm nights, I love all of it. That’s why it’s amazing that Natalie asked me to see fireworks with her. We had the perfect spot on a hill. We kissed under the fireworks.

“You might want to skip ahead. He writes so much about their dates and it’s all pretty much the same thing. They’re infatuated with each other. I suggest you skip ahead about a year and a half, after they’ve gotten together.”

December 10^th, 2010

Today is out one year and four months. I love her more every single day. She loves me too. I can feel it. We spent all of today in bed watching movies. It was perfect. Her apartment is like another home to me. Mine sucks. I want to move in with her someday. I’m sure it’ll be nice.

December 15^th, 2010

I’m going to visit my family for the holidays. I’m leaving this thing behind though. I don’t want my dad seeing what I wrote in here. See you next year.

“Do you remember that Christmas?” The cop asked.

The woman looked at her feet and sighed. “I wasn’t exactly around for that era of time. I don’t really like to talk about it. Now that his father is gone, I’m the only one to pick up his stuff.”

January 3^rd, 2011

It’s a new year. Exciting stuff. I didn’t see her for almost three weeks. I missed her pretty badly. We talked on the phone every night until one of us fell asleep. Her snoring is so cute.

January 23^rd, 2011

My dad died today. I have to go home and take care of his business affairs for a while. Natalie can’t come with me. I guess we’re broken up now. We can’t survive on opposite ends of the country. I love her. This is wrong.

“It cuts off for a while here. The context of the cuts makes it seem like he didn’t bring the journal back with him. That’s where these letters he wrote come into the focus. They are love letters to her that are unsent. He had a half-used book of stamps in his apartment though, so it seems like he sent some and never got a reply. So he still wrote them but never sent them.

After this the journal becomes largely irrelevant to the matter at hand. There are a few short entries about how he misses her, but nothing substantial.”

The cop was about to continue when a younger cop came into the room holding a manila envelope. “I have two more things that will fill in the blanks for us.”

“What’ve you got?”

“This small pink envelope. I found it opened. It’s addressed to him, and the letter inside is cordially inviting him to a wedding between Natalie Ayer and John Simonds. It’s dated about a week and a half ago.”

The older cop nodded. “It looks like we’re getting a good picture of what happened. His sheet from the hospital was a clean bill of health.”

The younger cop took a slip of paper out of the manila envelope. “I think he knew he was going to die. This is a note I think. It says ‘I’m so sorry. I hope she remembers me’.”

For the first time in a while the woman spoke up. “What are the details of his death?”

The older cop spoke up. “He died a few days ago. January 23^rd. We’re not sure how he died. We think his heart just stopped beating. He was malnourished too, despite his house being full of food. I think he just faded away. Lack of will to live, maybe.”

The older woman started crying once again.

Muscle Memory

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 22:51:11 -0500

The alarm clock screams in its usual tone, it sounds like it’s almost angry at me for all my sleeping bullshit. I smack the button to make it shut up. Here I am again. A morning where I’m too tired to move. I’ve got a job to go to. I don’t mind though. I’m doing okay for myself. In fact, I’m even feeling a little bit optimistic about my life these days. I can exist. I can stop thinking about what happened. I can try to move on.

I get out of bed and initiate my morning routine. I start by brushing my teeth. I accidentally grab the pink toothbrush before realizing my mistake and opting for the green one. As I look at my tired and dull eyes in the bathroom mirror I realize that I look like hell. I guess that makes sense. I feel like hell physically. But at least I’m having a good day mentally. I haven’t thought those things that pull me into the unending darkness of depression. It’s like I’ve put what happened right out of my mind.

I finish brushing my teeth and make my way over to the shower. I turn it off and get undressed. Once the water temperature is perfect, I hop in. After getting acclimated I look for the shampoo. I find my green bottle of Pert, but not before my eyes rest on the L’Oreal. Man, I keep forgetting to throw that away. I’m not sure I can bring myself to do it yet. I’m not gonna think about it though, this is going to be a good day.

After I get out of the shower, I’m ready for breakfast. I’m not really used to making it for myself. I’d always have it being cooked for me. Bacon, over easy eggs with hot sauce, and toast. My ideal breakfast. I fuck up the over-easy eggs. As I watch the yolk run out of the center and bleed all over the frying pan, I realize that I fucking suck at cooking breakfast. I throw out the eggs and just eat the bacon along with some toast and jelly.

I have to get dressed for work. It’s a whole suit and tie affair, sadly. But it brings the money in, so I’m not too torn up about it. I’m terrible at tying my ties. I always had it done for me up until recently. I end up putting on an old one that was already tied. It has a stain on it, but I’m not sure I care that much. I look in my bedroom mirror. My button up shirt is disheveled. My tie is crooked and my socks aren’t the same color. I definitely don’t care.

I grab my keys off of my dresser and head for the front door of my house. I stop in the kitchen and put some of my dishes in the sink first. It’s only 7:20. I’ll make it on time. I sit down at my kitchen table for a moment to put on my shoes. Uncomfortable bullshit. Way too stiff for me to being wearing to work, but I gotta do what I gotta do. I stand up and walk towards the door. Without thinking about it I turn the heat up in my house right before I leave. I stand there confused. Why did I just do that? Then it all came rushing back. I would always turn the heat up for her before I left. It was the one thing that I did for her in the morning. I sigh. She’s gone and can’t come back. I hunch over again. Today’s gonna be a bad day.

Well

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 21:39:52 -0500

This is a Valentine’s day letter.It’s a bit more personal than that other one I wrote.

Hey,

This is a combination card and letter for Valentine’s day. I hope you liked my drawings. I tried to make them not dumb. I’m listening to Streetlight Lullabies (of course). I love it. It’s the way I am, I think. When I love something or somebody I love them unabashedly and completely. Just like I love you. I love everything about you. You’re just great. Maybe this card is inappropriate right now. Maybe you care about him more. Maybe I’m a traveler, traveling into certain heartbreak. Maybe I’m a lonely writer, sitting at my desk, hoping words are strong enough to change reality, playing with simple meaningless metaphors. Does he even know what a metaphor is? Sorry. That was mean. The Big Sleep just came on. I always think of you during that one. Do you think we’re supposed to be together in the end? I do. Once our lights start to dim and we start the last half of our lives, its you I want to see. I guess in the end it’s always been you. I don’t know if you feel the same. Maybe my love is destined to be unrequited. I hope not.

All I know right now is that you aren’t with me. It makes me sad but that’s the way it is, I guess. Just know that I’ll always love you. I know that maybe you’re sick of me. I hope you aren’t. I know this card could never live up to what he’s doing for you, but I laid my heart on my desk in this thing. I know it can’t change anything, but I’ll always want to be with you. You’ve hurt me before, but I can forgive and forget for you. I want to be the best guy for you. You give me inspiration. You believe in me. I love you.

I’m scared to lose you. I think that’s a part of love. I’ve never felt this strongly about anything before. You’re an integral part of my life. I don’t know if I’m that important to you. I hope I am. All I really want in life is a house with you. Somewhere where the distance is only five feet instead of five hours. A house where we’re happy and normal and together. We could be together for a long time, if you wanted. Maybe in a few years we could move in together. I know I could make someone happy someday. I want it to be you, because you make me happy too. In the end, isn’t that all we want?

Love,

Me.

This is something I wrote in 25 minutes between classes today.

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 16:50:00 -0500

Did you ever have one of those nights, lying in bed, wishing that your life was simply a dream? Like it was some fabrication of your fucked up mind that produced some sort of nightmare for you to live through while you took a rest from your amazing life? Yeah. Me too. It never is though. I always wake up to my dull life as a convenience store cashier. No, don’t worry, this story isn’t gonna turn into the literary version of Clerks. I don’t give a shit about my job there, and the less I talk about it the better. I can feel the misery building up inside me already. I should change the subject. Let’s talk about the good in my life. I have a steady paycheck. A girl who I love, though maybe it’s unrequited, I’m never sure. We do spend a lot of time with each other, sometimes talking, sometimes cooking, sometimes writing, sometimes having sex. It’s complicated I guess. She isn’t around that much. I’d like to say that I don’t care, but I do. I really do.

I’m going to work today. I gotta run the cash register from open until close. It’s okay. It’s not like I have anything else to do except hide in my apartment and smoke weed and eat too many chips. I woke up this morning with a bitter taste in my mouth. I woke again but my life still wasn’t a dream. I’m disappointed again, of course. I had a few hours until I had to leave. I talked to her this morning. She didn’t really respond. She never does unless I ask her a question. I’m losing her, I guess. I’ll still try. I’ll always still try. I’ll probably always fail, but you never know, I guess. I knew that this day was gonna be a bad one. I swiped my flask from my bottom drawer. It was full of some sort of poison to intoxicate my mind. Something to get me through the day I guess.

Work today wasn’t that bad. I was tipsy by closing time but my flask was pretty much empty. I didn’t mind. As I started the arduous process of closing up, I thought about an interesting conversation I had with a customer. He was an older man, buying Chesterfields and a lighter to go with them. As I rang him up, he looked directly into my eyes. His hair was just a white wisp, and his eyes were a deep blue.

“You’re miserable. I can see it from the look in your eyes, and the smell of alcohol on you. What’s wrong?”

There was no one else in the store, so I decided to indulge him. “I’m working a shit job, I have no friends, and I have a probably unrequited love who doesn’t like to talk to me anymore. I’m slow. I’m in terrible physical shape. I don’t think I could outrun a turtle. I keep waking up and hoping that my life is just a nightmare a more successful version of me is having. It never is though.”

He smiled a little. “It’s funny you say that. I had a rough patch in life where I felt the exact same way. Want to know what I did? I spent more time in dreams than I did awake. I took am unhealthy amount of sleeping pills almost every night, I slept for days at a time, waking only to feed myself so that I didn’t die. Maybe I was trying to break through the barrier and come out on the other side and live in my world of dreams. It never worked, so I had to rebuild.”

“Well, cheers to you for trying, at least.” I said as I took a swig from my flask.

“I guess so. Just remember it’s not worth it to live your life in dreams. Reality will always be there to drag you back, kicking and screaming.”

“You know what? You’re right. I have to stop trying to exist in another world, and start living in mine. This world is what is real.”

He smiled a genuine smile. “You’ve got it now. Fare thee well, young friend.” He lit a cigarette and walked out of the door. I never saw him again.

By the time I ran through the conversation in my mind, I had almost finished up the routine closing tasks. All that was left was to take the garbage out to the back alley and lock up the rear entrance. I lugged the garbage can out to the back alley and finally got it in front of the dumpster. I was about to lift it up to flip the garbage in when I heard a voice.

“There is a gun on the back of your head, turn around slowly with your hands up.”

I complied. I was facing four masked people. One of them was holding a gun to my forehead, the other three were huddled around behind him. This couldn’t happen now, I had such a will to live and to make my life better than it was. The man holding the gun asked for my wallet. I told him that I didn’t have any money on me. That was the truth. He demanded it again. I handed it to him. He opened it and found a ten dollar bill. Shit. I forgot about that. He told me he didn’t like liars. He said liars made him so angry that he wanted to kill someone. He cocked the gun pressed against my forehead. I begged for my life. I knew he wasn’t going to spare me. At that point adrenaline took over. I saw his arm twitch. I sensed that he was about to pull the trigger. Once I saw his finger start to put pressure on the trigger I deftly ducked. The gun went off. The three guys behind the shooter gasped. They were yelling that they didn’t think he’d actually do it. The shooter just nodded, full of pride. I ran. I think they were so shocked they didn’t come after me. I forgot about my job, about the store, all I did was run, all the way back to my apartment.

When I settled down, I realized I was really tired. It all hit me at once. I didn’t want to watch TV or go online or do anything but sleep. I crashed on my bed and the world went black almost immediately.

I woke up really warm. I still had my eyes closed, mentally preparing myself for the new life that stood before me. A life where I would improve everything, I’d stop working at that shitty convenien—

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a seagull cawing. I was confused. I opened my eyes to a blinding sun in my eyes. I was lying on a beach. There was something in my hand. I looked. It was another’s hand. I looked over. It was her. We woke up lying hand in hand. I stared at her beauty for a few moments before she woke up.

“Hey.” She smiled. “I guess we fell asleep on the beach again, didn’t we? We always do that when we go for late night walks.” I was confused. Wasn’t I just in a shitty apartment in the city? She noticed the look on my face and gave me an odd look. Then her eyes brightened. “Oh don’t worry. I know you’re concerned about it being your turn to cook breakfast this morning, but don’t worry I’ll make it. You can just repay me in bed tonight.” She smiled and kissed me. When she pulled away she had a look of worry on her face.

“What’s that on your forehead?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a red circle, like someone shot you and the would healed. That wasn’t there last night.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. No big deal.”

Her words made me understand exactly what had happened. I couldn’t acknowledge it though. I buried it deep and never thought about it again. My life was simple. I lived in a house on the beach with her. We were happy.