I wish in real life people just randomly broke into song. That love
could truly defeat all odds. That families were loving, and happy.
That even if they were overbearing or dysfunctional, it was in that
cute, grow to love them anyway, kind of way. Not in that, suffering,
damaged, turn into a serial killer because you sat in their blood for
days kinda way.
I wish for a happily ever after in under two hours. But, as Dante put
it in Clerks, life is a series of downer endings. Tho, the third star
wars was still the best one. And the prequels made me much prefer the
dark side. I’m on a tangent.
Life has it’s moments. It does. But, it comes down to sadistic
choices. To rocks and hard places. And, I wish my life was some breezy
comedy, instead of some fucked up drama. I wish people were happy, and
colors were bright.
But, as I used to say, back in 11th grade when I was perhaps as big a
loser as I’d ever be- life’s a bitch and then you die. I’d say this in
1st period English class no less. See, this is what happens when I’m
forced to think in the mornings.
And, behind all the woe is me, the truth is it comes down to me. My
fatal flaw, or flaws, as they say. And, I guess a hero isn’t truly
tragic unless their fault is their own. At least partly. It’s not a
tragedy unless the protagonists end up washing blood off their hands.
Out out damn spot. Or something. God, that was a long fucking time
ago. I shouldn’t curse so much, offend the children.
Or, something. I like to curse. It gets me noticed, or something. Or
not. I don’t know. I know it’s cloudy. And I’m more like Dante then I
care to admit. Things ended up okay for him I guess, tho I wouldn’t
want to go into business with Randall. And fucking in a fast food
kitchen just seems unsanitary.
I’m so unoriginal I descend into pop culture references when I’m
upset. Picture what the TV tropes of my life should be. And life has
it’s moments. Its smiles, it’s hugs. It’s kisses that make it all seem
worth living. But, maybe that’s just the comic relief. So they can
kill the dog in the end. A lifetime of whiny brooding that leads to
I want to fix this. I want to fix this. If I say it enough, maybe.
It’ll come through the mirror like the candyman. Or better, Beetlejuice.
Beetlejuice would be much better. And maybe all the suffering will be
worth it. The heroes will meet on a beach in Mexico with ill-gotten
but much deserved money. I love the end of that movie.
I hope there is a pot of gold at the end of this shit rainbow.