public washrooms.

so i went in this really spiffy public washroom at the end of the hippy park on 17th. it was cool yes, but it scared me so much at the same time. just how everything was automated, like we have no control anymore. can we not be trusted with getting our own toilet paper? it has to be dispensed to us in the perfect amount? the flaw with this is one small malfunction and the whole room is dead. well there are more than that for flaws, but i could talk forever and you'd get bored. but its just like I Robot, and though that's fiction, it doesnt seem that impossible anymore. its all for safety measures, like..10 minutes max so homeless people wont take advantage of it. but its just so over the top i hate it.

Comments

neighborhood nights

I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...

enter the struggler

Don't give up. I'm only starting to see the gravity of your situation. the extent of your damnation. In short I don't blame you for your frivolous disposition. I blame myself for not being enough to change it. That came out wrong. I can't, nor do I want to, change you. I just wish I was insentive enough to make you wish to change. Or maybe change is non-existant. I want you to grow. You're playing a static and stagnant role whilst I am flourishing and thriving. I know I'm not the same as I was when we were first in love, but the change is amplified relative your inert stance. I've always cared about you, but that too has been altered by the hand of circumstance. I've known countless feelings for you, attachment, love, lust, caring, anguish, concern. I've always felt something for you. Now it's stronger than ever before. No more silly juvenile notions of "love". I care for you like a sister, a mother, a lover, a friend. You say you don...

zip.

I dread human contact. I absolutely hate it. I hate having to think of something to say, hate having to feign interest and sympathy. It's a stressful situation and I don't even know why. I guess it's the culmination of all my antisocial tendencies over the years. Once you get into a habit it gets harder and harder to change as time goes by. I've always been the shy one, the quiet one. The exception is my friends. I'm talkative and at ease with the people I like. I love my friends and I love having friends, but I dread making them. It's like it's too much effort to be worth it. All the awkward getting to know eachothers and stuff, I'd rather just avoid it completely. But it's getting me into trouble. People think I'm arrogant, too good to talk to them. Or that I hate them. Such is the case with my mother. She's been living at her parent's house, and so I rarely see her. That suited me fine, because less interactions the better. So whenever...

rude awakenings

Search This Blog