Dear Sax #1
This is the end. It will forever be the end. I have never known exactly how to put it into words the hurt that I always seem to feel when you are the focus of the room. How you have this personality that can make everybody you come in contact with feel like they are the most important person in your life. But now I know. Nobody is important to you. You only have surface friends. And while I completely understand the whole keeping people at arms length thing, at least those around me are aware of it. I don't go around making everyone feel like they are the most fucking special person in my life, only to dismiss them when it is inconvenient for them to be around. I always thought that I could easily be the type of person who could carry a friendship, assuming of course, that I actually really loved the friendship. And while I may still love the friendship we used to have, I fucking hate the nothing we have now. Which is interesting since it seems to be impossible to to hate something that no longer exists in this world. I did everything within reason, and many things out of reason. But it all ends here. The funny thing is I doubt you will ever even know that I wrote this. Never mind that it is public and everyone knows that I write a blog (one that is usually reserved for the crazy men I come in contact with). I don't know what hurts more. The fact that our friendship is over. Or the fact that I doubt you will even notice. At least not right away. It will take you months and then you will wonder why I stopped calling. And even then you will get distracted by something for a second and will forget about it for another few months. We always promised one another that we would be there for each other through thick and thin. Perhaps this is my fault, you always told me that you were horrible at keeping up friendships. But here is the clinch in that. In order for that to be a realistic excuse there can't be evidence that the opposite is true. In the beginning it was almost a challenge. See if I could keep up with keeping you as my best friend. Then whenever I saw you, you would remind me that I was your best friend. But that's it. I'm done. The chase and challenge is over.
In the end it isn't about being able to continue this anymore. It's about not wanting to.
Our friendship died the day the bracelet broke. I should have known then it was a sign.
If nothing else, at least this shit got me a high score on an essay for college.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Killer Sutra
*Ash-Hole reporting in!*
Dear Book Worm,
How will I ever forget the fleeting encounter with the man who I'm sure would have been the love of my life, had you not come on quite as strong as you did and scared little innocent me away. I admit, standing around in the "Sexuality" section of Barnes and Noble with my lightweight drinking buddy, laughing at the extremely graphic pictures in a book titled something to the effect of "the best little sex book ever" was an extremely inappropriate place to be when you have a date with destiny. I can remember hearing you walk up to us, and looking up (or rather, down, you were pretty short) at you and thinking "Oh, I should probably stop talking about sex now." I must have appeared to be wavering in whether or not I should purchase the book I was holding-why else would you offer up so willingly your opinion that that book was in fact a very good book. I must have also appeared to be a little more willing to try out the extremely intricate sexual pose on the page we had been looking at when you first walked up to us. As thrilling as having sex with someone with him standing up against a wall, my legs wrapped around him while in a back bend with my hands on the floor may have sounded, the mood was immediately ruined when you started talking about how many years you had been practicing sex, and how good you were at it. Oh please don't take that the wrong way, what I meant was the mood was ruined because we were in a public place, and my friend was there, and I knew I couldn't have you and your short, chubby body right then. I knew I couldn't run your fingers through your hair up to your bald spot, and being teased like that just immediately put me in a bad mood. I promise, I was strongly considering taking you up on your thinly veiled offer to see how well practiced you were at the art of love making, but thankfully (and by that, I mean unfortunately), MarenBoBarren got on the loud speaker and paged me right at that very moment. I'm sorry if you found it rude that my lightweight drinking buddy and I hastily shoved the book back on the shelf and flat out ran away from you without so much as a goodbye. I was just overwhelmed with your manliness, I had to get away before I let my carnal instinct take over.
I'll see you in my dreams, hot stuff
Dear Book Worm,
How will I ever forget the fleeting encounter with the man who I'm sure would have been the love of my life, had you not come on quite as strong as you did and scared little innocent me away. I admit, standing around in the "Sexuality" section of Barnes and Noble with my lightweight drinking buddy, laughing at the extremely graphic pictures in a book titled something to the effect of "the best little sex book ever" was an extremely inappropriate place to be when you have a date with destiny. I can remember hearing you walk up to us, and looking up (or rather, down, you were pretty short) at you and thinking "Oh, I should probably stop talking about sex now." I must have appeared to be wavering in whether or not I should purchase the book I was holding-why else would you offer up so willingly your opinion that that book was in fact a very good book. I must have also appeared to be a little more willing to try out the extremely intricate sexual pose on the page we had been looking at when you first walked up to us. As thrilling as having sex with someone with him standing up against a wall, my legs wrapped around him while in a back bend with my hands on the floor may have sounded, the mood was immediately ruined when you started talking about how many years you had been practicing sex, and how good you were at it. Oh please don't take that the wrong way, what I meant was the mood was ruined because we were in a public place, and my friend was there, and I knew I couldn't have you and your short, chubby body right then. I knew I couldn't run your fingers through your hair up to your bald spot, and being teased like that just immediately put me in a bad mood. I promise, I was strongly considering taking you up on your thinly veiled offer to see how well practiced you were at the art of love making, but thankfully (and by that, I mean unfortunately), MarenBoBarren got on the loud speaker and paged me right at that very moment. I'm sorry if you found it rude that my lightweight drinking buddy and I hastily shoved the book back on the shelf and flat out ran away from you without so much as a goodbye. I was just overwhelmed with your manliness, I had to get away before I let my carnal instinct take over.
I'll see you in my dreams, hot stuff
Key to my.......heart?
Dear Creeper #2309852309853020
No. For the last time my key doesn't go to anything in particular. I must admit, I was already disturbed by your gaze as you walked up to my counter. Then I saw you had your 9 year old son accompanying you. I figured that you couldn't be that scary since you had you kid there watching your every move (clearly I should have remembered that uber creepy episode of Criminal Minds where a man had his son bring home women to be his "new mommy" that he ultimately raped in killed in their basement). When you asked me what my key went to I politely responded with my usual "Oh nothing. My mom gave it to me for my birthday" type response. When your follow up was "Oh...you mean it doesn't open anything more **INSERT SUPER CREEPY GAZE AND VOICE HERE** mysterious...?" I must admit I was frightened. Perhaps I should have been more clear when I said my MOTHER gave it to me. Clearly you think it is ok to ask a 21 year old cashier if they are into S&M right in front of your son. But, I must admit, it kind of put a damper on what could have been, I'm sure, a blossoming, loving and tender relationship. Perhaps I should have responded "oh it opens the chains in my trunk" very nonchalantly. Would that have been more your cup of tea? The loss is surely my own. Tears.
Yours in chains?
No. For the last time my key doesn't go to anything in particular. I must admit, I was already disturbed by your gaze as you walked up to my counter. Then I saw you had your 9 year old son accompanying you. I figured that you couldn't be that scary since you had you kid there watching your every move (clearly I should have remembered that uber creepy episode of Criminal Minds where a man had his son bring home women to be his "new mommy" that he ultimately raped in killed in their basement). When you asked me what my key went to I politely responded with my usual "Oh nothing. My mom gave it to me for my birthday" type response. When your follow up was "Oh...you mean it doesn't open anything more **INSERT SUPER CREEPY GAZE AND VOICE HERE** mysterious...?" I must admit I was frightened. Perhaps I should have been more clear when I said my MOTHER gave it to me. Clearly you think it is ok to ask a 21 year old cashier if they are into S&M right in front of your son. But, I must admit, it kind of put a damper on what could have been, I'm sure, a blossoming, loving and tender relationship. Perhaps I should have responded "oh it opens the chains in my trunk" very nonchalantly. Would that have been more your cup of tea? The loss is surely my own. Tears.
Yours in chains?
R.O.U.S.
Dear Opossum Lady,
I am unaware what you believe to be proper animal care technique. Or, however, what you feel is a proper animal to care for. But when you come into my store and ask me if we have a book on how to train an opossum, forgive my laughter, you should understand that this is not a common request. Perhaps part of the reason I was so thrown was because, upon arrival, you seemed like a perfectly normal young woman. Then when I discovered you weren't kidding I have to admit that I got a bit nervous. You seemed a bit incredulous that nobody would write a book on how to train and keep wild animals that seem to not contribute anything to society but an overall freak factor. So, again, I am sorry for laughing, but I didn't realize that you were a new breed of cat lady. The Opossum Lady.
Yours in Fear
I am unaware what you believe to be proper animal care technique. Or, however, what you feel is a proper animal to care for. But when you come into my store and ask me if we have a book on how to train an opossum, forgive my laughter, you should understand that this is not a common request. Perhaps part of the reason I was so thrown was because, upon arrival, you seemed like a perfectly normal young woman. Then when I discovered you weren't kidding I have to admit that I got a bit nervous. You seemed a bit incredulous that nobody would write a book on how to train and keep wild animals that seem to not contribute anything to society but an overall freak factor. So, again, I am sorry for laughing, but I didn't realize that you were a new breed of cat lady. The Opossum Lady.
Yours in Fear
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