psimms09

psimms09

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The world can be steadfast in an attempt at making it self relevant, but the fact of the matter is that it just one blip in the scheme of a massive and endless unfeeling universe.

The person looks at him with pity and says, "I'll pray for you." He forces a smile and says almost inaudibly, "thank you." When in all actuality he means to say fuck you.

It sprinted up the stairway only to find that it didn't lead anywhere.

He was hardly motivated. The thought of actually doing anything made him sick to the stomach. How could he possibly think about doing anything other than laying in bed with his eyes closed. The loss was still so strongly present. I don't know if I'll ever recover, he thought to himself. His eyes closed so tight that it made them water. Then he felt that familiar touch. Her hand grazed his shoulder in such a way that it automatically brought a smirk to his face. And thought maybe just maybe things might be okay.

He should avoided him, but it was that tone of voice that got him every single time. It was that shrill tone that only an asshole could muster. He walked straight up to him and without a word rocked back and produced such a jab that it sent him flying back into the wall.

I can't really say for sure or not if he was original. I mean what exactly does that mean nowadays anyway? I mean everything has been played out. You can't really be "on the forefront" on anything anymore. Not really and truly. You can just try and take some tired idea and breath some life into it. Perspective. Whatever you want to call it.

derby

He gently set his derby hat on the rosewood table and turned his gaze towards me. He had this intensity in eyes that both was scary and inviting.

I mean I guess that I could see it happening, but really it wasn't anything realistic. Who would of thought a person could do that, much less a cat. I'm not sure what to think really, but I guess anything is plausible at this time of night.

brisk

The brisk reply didn't necessarily add up to much since he wasn't one to let his wall down. She still took it to heart though and thought about it for the rest of the night. It never crossed his mind however that he had done anything at all that would merit such contemplation.

The lunacy of the situation was on a whole different level. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I do believe that it wasn't my fault. If I was the superstitious type I would blame it on the full moon, but thank goodness I'm not. I'd be much more likely to say that it was just the sweet chaos of any given moment.

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writing since 2011 · 69 entries · 69 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Patrick showed up.

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69days written

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on this day 15 years ago

Patrick wrote about bars
“These bars. This mental prison that he kept insisting on as reality was keeping him from ever doing anything worthwhile. We all tried to help him. To get him out of this funk he was in. It seemed lik…”

the words Patrick reaches for

voicedonewordsselfeyesfinallywalkedhimselflivemeanchancesurelivedhappeningtypereal