Tired of faux...EVERYTHING?
Tired of being tired?
Tired of chemical rewards in the brain directing what you do?
Tired of being aware of those chemicals when they release?
Tired of needing social media?
Tired of needing new people?
Tired of not working for what you want?
Tired of being a part of the world?
Tired of the perplexingly stupid stupidness filling your space and time?
Tired of the grind?
Tired of trinkets devoted to memories you romanticize?
Tired of the way you catch your mind running opposite your intentions?
Tired of monitoring?
Tired of overstimulation?
Tired of not feeling safe?
Tired of using present time to secure the future?
Tired of you?
Tired of predictability?
Tired of being under or over someone?
Tired of faces?
Tired of voices?
Tired of tastes?
Tired of jokes?
Tired of anxiety?
Tired of waiting?
Tired of needing to scream without judging your sound?
Tired of awareness?
Tired of maturing and complicating?
"Don't believe anything you read on the internet, Jimmy. Have faith in that you are the sole proprietor of your own mind. That pesky interweb of lies cannot harm you, lest you take action with thought which originated there. " -Sir Atticus A Alastair
What a fine chap he was, always dabbling in others' affairs. If I'm not mistaken, that quote was during a rather impetuous dinner at Ms. Margaret's place, when brother James performed with the china a magic trick he had learnt on YouTube.
Oh balls, I left the oats cooking.
On Friday, I greeted my hand.
To my surprise, I was not greeted in return.
It was a rude moment.
I scowled at the dirt under its nails long enough to make it feel awkward.
It twitched violently once, then again, less violently, shortly after.
According to my preexisting knowledge of hands, twitching is a symptom of awkwardness.
"Why would you throw that?! Why would anyone throw that?!!" Lexie screamed from the back of the bus, running up to give Darran a slap in the face.
"It was a screamin' at me, whawas I s'possed to do?? Take that shit?"
The bus began teetering to one side, at a noted 80mph.
"What's haps up there?? We gonna die today?" a voice was heard from the back.
"Watch our asses, dipshit!"
Lexie jumped over the driver's seat to steady the wheel.
Panting, she started, "You can't become distracted when-
"We aight?" Fan sat up, making his face visible. Not the nicest face to look at, coated in a layer of Vaseline.
"Yeah, Dar tossed the broken Venucian," Lexie sighed, palm to forehead.
Pulling her hair in frustration, she motioned Darran out of his seat, "As I was saying, You can't become distracted when WE ARE LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY CLIFF EDGES. I'll be driving a full shift." As she made herself comfortable in her chair, she recollected...Darran had thrown away their only hope to eat this week, on a whim.
"I almost want to give up, this is tiresome and I'd be more comfortable dead," The two drivers heard Fan whining behind them.
Simultaneously they retorted, "You're not the one driving!"
Fan chose a seat further away, sunk into it, and stared at the window. Not out the window, at the window. There was nothing interesting out there. Funner to watch the bugs splat on the glass every hour or so.
"Anyone got a smoke?"