This is a fairly recent development.
Next time I see my therapist, I'm going to bring all this up with her, and see what she makes of it.
FORTY ONE
" FUCKING JUST SIT DOWN!!! YOU'RE PARANOID!!! YOU'RE INSANE!!! JUST SHUT UP AND DO WHAT I TELL YOU!!!"
People just don't learn, do they?
How many failed relationships does it take for all you gibbering idiots to finally cease your hapless struggling, and end your pathetic attempts to "settle down" with one another? Are your unevolved animalistic needs, and these apparent urges to mate and breed really that strong?
At least I figured all this stuff out early on, you know? basic shit like "if you ain't fixed for it, then don't do it!" Always bouncing around from one pointless relationship to another. I mean, even after the tenth romantic failure or whatever the hell they're on now, anyone with even a basic level of intelligence would start to think "...ok, so, uh... what's is the point then?" Idiots, it's only going to go wrong for you anyway.
"...I WILL NOT SIT BACK AND WATCH YOU CHEAT ON ME!!! I WON'T STAND FOR YOU CHEATING ON ME!!!"
My god, the whole thing is absolutely pathetic! It's like watching a retard desperately and repeatedly headbutting a locked door, in a blood-laden and futile attempt to get it to open.
Maybe it's just me and my perma-defeatist attitude that isn't able to identify with it? For instance, I feel like I don't want to compete at anything 'cause I seemingly can't ever win... and yet, I still want to win, but I can't or won't compete unless I actually do win! The whole thing is this, this psychological circus, an oxymoronic-paradox of shear stupidity... and I can't seem to do a damn thing about it.
...What's this? Now? seriously, right here and now?! I'm finally realising just how bad my cognitive dissonance really is? ...and after how long again?!
Wow... how fucking sad is that?
What's the point in existing if everything is constantly miserable? a miserable constant, it's even seeping into my dreams at this point, and I'm completely sick and tired of having nightmares where all my teeth keep falling out...
"WHO IS SHE?!! YET ANOTHER HIDEOUS TROLL LIKE YOUR MOTHER!!!"
I wonder while they're actually screaming at each other, who's paying the rent? No... really, because when I last talked to Amanda, she told me she wanted to go to collage, or something like that. She never actually said anything about working, and from what I gather as well, old Berty-berk over there certainly doesn't have a job.
"...YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!"
I mean, far be it from me to criticise how people live, and choose to waste their insignificant lives. I don't judge because I simply don't care, but still, I can't help but think about the logistics of the whole situation...
...Or putting it in terms that are easier to understand "while they're screamin' who the hell's payin'?!"
"GET A JOB YOU WORTHLESS WASTE OF TIME!!!"
Ah, yes. I remember now, I think the owner of this fine "establishment" has a contract with the government or something, where he gets paid for housing the un-housable, you know? the unemployed, the unemployable, and the like... That probably explains a lot come to think of it...
"DON'T YOU HIT ME!"
...Uh-oh.
"COME BACK HERE YOU BITCH!!!"
"AHHHHHHHH!!!"
Oh, fuck me...
What do I do? call the police?!
"...DON'T!! HELP!!!"
...Oh, fuck me!
I'm going to have to do something!
"SOMEONE!!!"
I'm going! ...Coming!
Courage, Jack. Courage!
FORTY TWO
*Knock knock*
"...Bitch! shut up while I answer the door!"
*Footsteps*
(...I am going to die.)
*Door opens*
"WHAT?!"
"Uh, h-hello. I, I'm..."
"Oh, it's just you? What do you fuckin' want?!"
(Think fast!)
"Um, y, yes, it's me Jack. I, I'm your er, neighbour f, from the apartment down the way."
"I know who you are! you think I can't remember you knockin' last time?!"
"... Um?"
"I know why you're here an' all! your 'ere because you can hear all the shoutin' and carryin' on! Is that it?!"
(I'm hear because you're hitting her you fucking cave troll!)
"Y, yes but!"
"An' I'm tellin' you! Mind. Your. Own. Business!"
(If this gets violent, I'm leaving!)
"L,Listen it's B,Bert? isn't it? I just wanted..."
"Wait a second... How do you know me name?!"
(...Oh fuck!)
"I..."
"I remember you bein' in 'ere and I remember YOU! telling ME! what your name was. An' then I remember introducing you to Mandy... but then I remember fucking specifically, you leavin' for some reason, and that was right before I told you mine!"
(Well, a sloping forehead like that's got to be useful for something... Better come up with something... fast!)
"I, I hear Amanda shouting it sometimes, usually before you hit her..."
"Oh, is that right?!"
"I-I'm sorry but you s,shouldn't be in there h-hitting your girlfriend..."
(Idiot! do you really want him to be hitting you instead?)
"Ha! really?! who should I hit, then?!"
(I told you!)
"I, I..."
"Why don't YOU tell me then "Jack!" when I SHOULD hit my girlfriend! When is it ok 'cording to you?!"
"... You shouldn't hit women, p, period!"
"That so? yeah, but see, you just don't get it do ya'? ok, so what if I say somethin' to her once, and then she don't do it?! Now, five minutes from now, say I tell her again, an' she still don't do it! so... what if by the tenth or twentieth FUCKIN' time! you tell her to say... oh, I dunno. Stop leaving the FUCKING WINDOW OPEN! and she still ain't doin' it! An' all because of her teeny-tiny minute little FUCKING BRAIN! and jus' 'cos o' that she ain't understandin' to well! 'cos it won't register in her empty fuckin' hole of a head! So what if she jus' don't get it?! what if... what if it don't fuckin' FIX?!... What do yer' do then, eh?"
(.....)
"....."
"Yeah, exactly... Now piss off, "Jack."
"L-Listen Bert, I don't have a problem with you."
"Oh yeah? You want one?!"
"No, no I don't, at all actually. I, I'm not here to tell you h-how you handle your relationships..."
"Oh, really? 'cos from where I am, that looks EXACTLY like what you're doin'!"
"No, I'm not! I, I'm only suggesting that maybe you should... just g, go and c, cool off, and then maybe y, you'll come back, and y'know? see, um, things differently?"
"Alright, yeah... I see where your comin' from! ok, sure, you think if I "g-go out and c-cool off" that I'll "f-feel b-better" is that it?"
(Fuck you... Go fuck yourself, you fucking monkey's cunt!)
"... y, yeah that's right..."
"Ok, tell you what I'll do "Jack" 'cause I'm not doin' any of that shite, but what I will do is this. I'll go out an' I'll meet the lads down the local for a coupla' pints. That good enuff for ya?"
"S, sure it's your choice, obviously..."
(... you rotten fucking cunt monkey!)
"I'll do that, then! 'MANDA IF I COME BACK AND I HEAR YOU STILL TALKIN' ALL THAT SHITE... WELL LET'S JUST SAY IT'LL 'APPEN AGAIN!! YOU HEARIN' ME?!?!"
*Door slams*
"Get out of me way "Jack!" Move it! c'mon! go 'ome! Hop it! go! shows over!"
"Fine... ok."
(I need to check on Amanda... but I'm going back home first, I'll wait 'til this evil bastard leaves...)
FORTY THREE
I realised, I'm not actually weak after all, nope, not in the slightest. I'm just smart enough to stay out of it... or at least I was up until now.
I went back an' I checked on 'manda.... I mean, I went back "and" I checked on "Amanda".
I don't really know what I'm sup
posed to do in that kind of situation, offer words of comfort? I don't know any... and even if I did, considering what's just happened, I don't think I'd have any good ones to spare.
She's ok though, a little bruised around the face, and a little worse for wear but she's ok, so that's good.
She actually smiled and thanked me, and then we spent a good while talking about things, y'know, stuff. Pretty much anything that didn't involve "The Berk" well, except for school, we talked about that for a little bit.
Like that one time everybody in school found out that some kid was apparently having an affair with Mrs Henderson! So her husband came to school one day out of the blue, right? and as it turns out, it's all because a group of random kids started shouting about it to him in the street, so after hearing that, he goes to school the next day, and finds this kid who was "allegedly" said to have been "poking her" and then he proceeds to beat the ever-loving-shit out of him in the car park, with half the pupils and faculty watching! Anyway, eventually the police come to drag him away, and all the while he was still screaming bloody murder at his now unconscious victim... Yeah, I remember that one, heh, that was pretty damn funny!
She actually laughed a few times during our talk, which made me feel much better about the whole thing. She's very sweet, even now... even during all this...
But now I'm back home, and it's got me thinking why people actually fight... not just have arguments, but y'know? battles, wars, that kind of thing.
I suppose there are many ways one can pass through life. For example, there are those that fight, those that orchestrate fights, those that try to show and describe all the fighting to others. Then, there are those who question the reasons why we fight, and then there are people that simply want to see a fight, usually any fight, then finally, there are pacifists.
I think that describes the whole damned thing pretty well!
...Oh, and one more thing, I think I love her.
"...WHAT?!?!"
FORTY FOUR
Love?! ...what the hell? where did that come from?! I, I don't even care about that kind of thing! are you kidding? I can't believe I even thought that! it doesn't make any sense, logically, I mean... The mere idea that I could even have those kind of "feelings" for someone else is ridiculous, completely and utterly absurd!... ha, I'm not in love!
True love, soulmates, all that kind of stuff is absolutely, retardedly, god-damn-fucking-ridiculous!
Why? well, because let me tell you something about "love" if you didn't know already, and you're still stuck in a vain cycle of hoping and trying to find it in bad romantic comedies, shitty soap operas, or terrible fucking romance novels. Listen, let me break it to you gently, that's NOT how it works in reality, and any so-called "happy endings" for anyone in this world are few and far between... Now, allow me to enlighten you as to why.
First, there is no such thing as a "soulmate"... please, don't make me laugh, there has never been, and there never will be such a thing. The truth of the matter is, in life, there are only the people you can stand to be around, versus all the billions and billions of others that you can't. Period, and fine, if you want you can call it "love" or "denial" or whatever, go ahead, it matters not.
Oh, and sure, we've already established that love exists... sure, on a purely chemical level that is. I've also established that love, just like trusting anybody in this world causes little beyond pain, misery, and disappointment, and I've had enough of that to last me a thousand different lifetimes.
Because in the end "love" seldom causes anything besides suffering and grief.
Love is a fallacy, yet another one, and it's probably one of the reasons why all the cheery liars of the world prize it so highly, and In the long run, from love, only despair is born, and because of that I want absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with it!
To love is to die, for it is the end of the self.
...Now, back to repressing my feelings.
FORTY FIVE
Midnight lays her cloak of darkness over the city, as Amanda sits solemnly at the living room dining table. Her head seems to be permanently affixed to her hands, she occasionally switches between looking at the clock on the wall, and looking at the strangely quiet and inert band outside the main window.
They all either sit or stand on some shabby red carpet that only covers about a third of the room, on a floor that is thoroughly covered with broken glass, litter, and junk. The heavily tattooed mohawk continues to stand at attention, wearing his filthy blue ripped jeans, scruffy black boots and his "Fuck Everything!" t-shirt, he continues drunkenly swaying, clutching his seemingly omnipresent, bottle of vodka like a broken tin soldier with a shouldered rifle, he continues to drink in between talking loudly, and randomly shouting swearing laden insults to the only other two members of the "band" present.
Their room, with its several newly-broken windows, is laden with sparse furniture and filled halfway up with mostly damaged, cluttered equipment which is bordered by what seemed like previously white, bright, wallpapered walls, which are now indiscriminately pasted with old school rock and roll posters and graffiti. One of the more random examples plastered on the wall, is an old, worn out, black minimalist style poster, simply emblazoned with a rather moldy looking white apple that also has a worm protruding through the top, the white lettering underneath simply says "iCrap".
An ever-present heavy layer of smoke is coming directly from the dreadlocked one, the only other seemingly "conscious" one there, with this, he looks like some kind of broken chimney or smokestack, as he has both his arms folded while he smokes the roll-up laced with a miscellaneous "something". He is dressed nearly head to toe in black, with the occasional sporadic red trimmings, and he's wearing a t-shirt that says "Church of Misery" over the facial collage of several famous serial killers, his red braces hang freely down from his jeans and his hair is fairly short down to just below his clean-shaven chin. He seems to be practically ignoring the still ranting and raving, inebriated mohawk, as he coldly leans on the wall of amplifiers and cabinets in the rooms windowed alcove. They both stand on direct opposite sides of the alcove's edges, in front of the sleeping drummer who has practically passed out, face down on his kit. One "talks" while the other "listens" all the while as he continues to emit thick-white-smoke, which joins the rooms thicker, and much heavier music.
Suddenly the door bangs open sharply, in anger, before it rests open on the wobbling and now slanted leaning coat rack behind it.
...It's Bert.
He sharply looks at Amanda before slamming the door. He speaks, half-smiling in anger "so have you spoken to your little "friend" down the 'all while I was out?" he says scratching his chin while casually moving towards her, just before her attempt at protesting, Amanda wipes away the tears from her bruised, bleary and reddening eyes, her mascara is running, she wipes at it before she starts to talk. "What? who? no I haven't! and I'd appreciate it if you'd..." Bert cuts her off mid sentence and begins to speak fairly ominously.
"...Mandy, you know I can tell when you're lyin'..." just then, his eyes widen, as Bert brazenly dashes towards the table and grabs Amanda by the hair, she yelps like a small fragile animal caught in a trap, and the tears again begin to stream down her face, Bert looks at her neck, and then down her partially open blouse before again making eye contact, and speaking "don't you lie! don't you lie to me you deceitful fucking bitch!" Bert says angrily in her ear, almost amazingly though, he's still keeping his voice to a fairly moderate volume while speaking through his gritted teeth.
He pauses for a brief second to listen to her whimpering, before he continues, his anger still far from waning, "why is that fucking pathetic shut-in from the apartment down the hall coming over 'ere, and telling us how to live our lives?!" he asks with curious rage. Amanda tries in vain to pull her hair out from his firm grasp "you're hurting me!" she protests, her voice ending her words in a painful sounding squeal.
Bert doesn't let go, instead, his vice-like grip tightens further. "Afte
r last time, yer told me you knew 'im back in school?!" he says, trying to get to the bottom of her "story".
When It's Cold I'd Like to Die Page 18
