has managed to become more detestable than his music.
Tina molested me.
We are miserable.
We are human.
We are art.
We sing, we write, we hope that we are right. We hope that someone will hear out cries of joy, of fear, of love. We hope that someone will understand what we are trying to say !
We are human.
We are art.
We sing, we write, we hope that we are right. We hope that someone will hear out cries of joy, of fear, of love. We hope that someone will understand what we are trying to say !
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# Posté le lundi 05 janvier 2009 22:54
.
I had been waiting in the subway station for quite some time when I decided to approach a woman who seemed to be doing the same thing. She had been there, next to a public phone, when I arrived. I had been watching her nerves deteriorate with every passing second.
"Hi," I said, as I went and stood next to her.
"Hello." Her voice was distant, she looked at me quickly, and immediately looked in another direction. She began to focus on the screen that was placed over the tracks. It read 5 minutes until the next train's arrival.
"I've been waiting here for fourty minutes, waiting for a friend...how about you?" I asked.
"I've been waiting for a call." She was still looking at that screen.
"Why here? You could always go wait at home."
"Because as soon as I get this call, I have to leave." I think I heard her voice crack ever so slightly.
"How far are you going to get on the subway?"
She didn't answer me. She stared at the screen, which indicated that the next train would be here in less than a minute now.
"I can't wait any longer," she said, always looking in another direction, to avoid my eyes I suppose.
When the train arrived, she took a shaky breath and stepped onto it, truly looking at me for the first time through the train's dirty window. Then she was gone.
A moment later, the pay phone next to which she had been standing began to ring. Shivers went down my spine, yet I didn't really know what to make of the whole thing.
Curious, I picked up the phone and held it to my ear without saying a word.
A man's panicked voice, spoke quickly:
"Don't go, we're going through with it after all. Take a taxi and go to the airport. We'll meet at the same place as planned. Whatever you do, don't take the subway. We're going to do it." He paused before saying "I love you," and hung up.
I dropped the phone, my heart pounding.
I felt the ground shake as I was running out of the subway station, I stumbled onto the grass.
For a moment everything was quiet, I couldn't hear a thing. But slowly, the shrill sound of panic began to ring in my ears, becoming louder and louder and louder.
"Hi," I said, as I went and stood next to her.
"Hello." Her voice was distant, she looked at me quickly, and immediately looked in another direction. She began to focus on the screen that was placed over the tracks. It read 5 minutes until the next train's arrival.
"I've been waiting here for fourty minutes, waiting for a friend...how about you?" I asked.
"I've been waiting for a call." She was still looking at that screen.
"Why here? You could always go wait at home."
"Because as soon as I get this call, I have to leave." I think I heard her voice crack ever so slightly.
"How far are you going to get on the subway?"
She didn't answer me. She stared at the screen, which indicated that the next train would be here in less than a minute now.
"I can't wait any longer," she said, always looking in another direction, to avoid my eyes I suppose.
When the train arrived, she took a shaky breath and stepped onto it, truly looking at me for the first time through the train's dirty window. Then she was gone.
A moment later, the pay phone next to which she had been standing began to ring. Shivers went down my spine, yet I didn't really know what to make of the whole thing.
Curious, I picked up the phone and held it to my ear without saying a word.
A man's panicked voice, spoke quickly:
"Don't go, we're going through with it after all. Take a taxi and go to the airport. We'll meet at the same place as planned. Whatever you do, don't take the subway. We're going to do it." He paused before saying "I love you," and hung up.
I dropped the phone, my heart pounding.
I felt the ground shake as I was running out of the subway station, I stumbled onto the grass.
For a moment everything was quiet, I couldn't hear a thing. But slowly, the shrill sound of panic began to ring in my ears, becoming louder and louder and louder.
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# Posté le lundi 22 décembre 2008 15:27
Our very promising future:
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# Posté le mardi 30 septembre 2008 22:47
Complete, melodramatic bullshit that is somewhat amusing
It didn't take long for Harold to realise he was completely alone; a fictional character in a world much to real for the imaginary.
He had recently come to the conclusion that he did not exist. No matter how loud he screamed, no one would turn around and tell him to shut up.
No matter how much he cried, no one would hand him a tissue.
No matter how much he tried to run into people, get their attention, no one would do so much as glance in his direction.
He didn't know what to do anymore. He tried to think back to his childhood, but he saw nothing. He tried to remember the last woman he slept with...still nothing.
His age: Nothing.
His name: Harold...this is all he knew. He didn't like this name...Harold...it disgusted him. He wanted to kill his mother for naming him this, but he did not know who his mother was. He had no mother, he was an orphan, a lie, a joke, a human being, a sexual object designed to keep things going, he was a god, his own god, he was an atheist, a satanist, a buddist, a sexist, a lover, a fighter, a killer, a tortuerer, a slave, a dog, a cat, a mouse, an anus.
He hated himself.
As you should hate yourself,
because you do not exist, and neither does this computer, or this text.
You are insane.
Kill yourself.
He had recently come to the conclusion that he did not exist. No matter how loud he screamed, no one would turn around and tell him to shut up.
No matter how much he cried, no one would hand him a tissue.
No matter how much he tried to run into people, get their attention, no one would do so much as glance in his direction.
He didn't know what to do anymore. He tried to think back to his childhood, but he saw nothing. He tried to remember the last woman he slept with...still nothing.
His age: Nothing.
His name: Harold...this is all he knew. He didn't like this name...Harold...it disgusted him. He wanted to kill his mother for naming him this, but he did not know who his mother was. He had no mother, he was an orphan, a lie, a joke, a human being, a sexual object designed to keep things going, he was a god, his own god, he was an atheist, a satanist, a buddist, a sexist, a lover, a fighter, a killer, a tortuerer, a slave, a dog, a cat, a mouse, an anus.
He hated himself.
As you should hate yourself,
because you do not exist, and neither does this computer, or this text.
You are insane.
Kill yourself.
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# Posté le mardi 30 septembre 2008 22:39
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