Tuesday, August 2, 2016

disordered venting #125016

 "Each and every person is full of misunderstandings."


today I stared at a bottle of codine cough medicine from two years ago, that'd been unopened for at least one year, the last instance I had the flu. It's expired by over a year at this point. I played with a lot of knives, I had to dislodge them from my chest and my back, from my eyes and my ears. One segment of my life in its entirety felt like I was sinking in tightening mud, as wounds bled out, and even though I don't wish to reminisce, sometimes I have to, the good and the bad, from who I was in the past. And I stare at the syrup, inhale its smell as I take the last bits to ail my current condition of combined conjunctivitis & respiratory inflammation, gulp it down, savor its bitterness, hoping to one day stomach much worse emotional bitterness with some level of fucking decency. Maybe I sit here with a dry cough insomniac, wondering why I'm waiting for my life to proceed in the same way, as my father gripes at me for tortoise speed advancement. Not my fault I'm in a lull, i'm just crazy. Today was Murphy's Law Day, in accordance with the fabled concept that everything that could've gone wrong, it did. Nigh everything was of course, somehow not an improvement. He blew a tire, had to walk to the house, when the spare was revealed to be flat, later the axel broken, he walked to the house and I sat trembling the air conditioning, wishing to just escape elsewhere, instantly, or surrender to the sleeplessness that'd been gnawing at me since 9am when I was dragged to the doctor's and given two shots to my lower hips. Maybe the expired cough syrup is symbolically representative of my life, bitterly empty, once useful, but currently not very much so, as I lie about in a state of illness waiting for something to just come down and free me from the constant coughing that becomes emptier by the day, devoid of purpose other than to symbolize the weakness of my lungs. Maybe karma, after two years, has decided I'm not forgivable enough, and also christened me with the pleasant gift of pinkeye to emphasize. It's not fair that after all I've done I can just go back to being sick, bitchy Audrey that wants to choke everything, it's not right, and I don't know. I thought I was too good for this. Ha ha, I'm rambling again. I monologue like a freak. Fucking shitstain. I'm a fucking stain.

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