I met her a long time ago. A whole universe ago. Before I started smoking cigarettes. Before I got into booze. Before I started doing all kinds of esoteric drugs. She was cute. She was kind. A certain classical charm and sexiness hung about her like an old rosary. Thinking back, I can hardly tell the difference between what actually happened and what was just stories retold. It hardly matters, it doesn’t change the way I’ve always felt about her. When I see her, my heart thunders in my chest like the crescendo of firework show. Her eyes shining bright, I can hardly bear to look at them for fear of being burned. She has a light, it shines bright and clear and draws us all near her. But that light brings out the monsters of this world.
Eh. Done. I can’t write for shit anyways. Anyways…
She was walking to her car after work late one night when I voice stopped her. “What’s a pretty young girl,” the man said, “working at a dump like this? I could make you a star.” The girl paused. Turning to look at him, she saw what could only be described as smudge of darkness detach itself from the wall. The darkness swirled into the shape of a man with eyes so dark they cast their own shadows. He smiled a crooked grin. “Tell me your name girl, and come with me, we’ll see if all your wildest dreams can’t come true.” She was absolutely shaken to her core at the very sight of this demon, (for what else could it be?) but his words had power in them. She found herself preparing to speak her name aloud when a man stepped out from the street, smoking a cigarette smelling of cloves, tobacco, mint, and something she couldn’t identify. “Excuse me miss, is this man bothering you?” He was dressed plainly, white button up shirt, black tie, black shoes and pants. But he radiated kindness and power. “Stay back, Nick, the girl is mine,” the shadow man hissed. “I don’t know Braum, she hasn’t made any deals with you yet.”
Time is an illusion. Reality subjective. Science is very interesting, religion so boring. Why do people believe in the supernatural, when we haven’t even scratched the surface of knowing about ourselves yet?
I like to laugh at the horribleness of things. Laughing is easier than crying. I’m laughing at how sick I am. At how I have to work tomorrow being as sick as I am. Laughing at all my debt. Just laughing, because sometimes you just have to handle you’re own shit. You can’t fall to pieces when things don’t go according to plan. When you fall down, you just get up and keep walking. No one is gonna help you up unless you’re trying to get up already.