Obvious Bicycle

 I’m not a nice person. I feel so angry and dis-empowered all the time now. I look at how nothing ever goes right in my life now, then I look at these low-lives with low IQs and idiotic standpoints and how things always seem to go right for them. Sometimes I wish I were stupid like them. I wish my IQ was low, and I was religious, and I woke up every day not giving a fuck about anything instead of waking up every morning feeling like the loneliest soul in the universe and going to sleep every night feeling lost all over again. I keep trying to sort myself out, but it only lasts for about a day, if that. 

I was getting over her finally. And then that party happened, and she fucked me up again. That guy’s been no help either. It’s like tenth grade again. I wish people would stop fucking with me. Answers would be nice. Straight-forwardness. My ex fucked with me. Everyone, it seems. I just wanted–apparently something I can’t have.

She fucked me up. I’m having dreams about her again. They always end the same way–I wake up. I’ve never wanted to stay asleep for so long. It’s nice there. Good things happen, and I’m not alone. I wish I could tell her. Again. All of it. I wish I could look into her eyes and tell her that she’s the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever known. That she fuels something within me I hardly get a chance to feel. She makes me write my heart out, and she’s never judged anything I’ve done. I wish I could take her hand, and feel the bones in her knuckles. I wish I could hold it while still looking into her eyes. I wish I could kiss her then–her lips on mine. For once, finally. A moment of something more. Intimacy. I wish I could have that with her. I wish.

It’ll never happen.

I doubt we’ll ever dance on top of a parking garage at 3 in the morning again either. But I can hope. I can wish. I have my imagination.