Suckage

The days that pass are filed into sections of;
Sucked and Didn't Suck.

Though lately I believe I need a new folder for 'almost but not quite full suckage.'

Saturday almost sucked, but wasn't really a full day of suckage, it cleared up like a summer rainfall.
Sunday was more boring, so it didn't suck.
Monday was fine.
Tuesday.. that's today.. lemme check my calender...
Ohh hey.. it's not quite sucky yet.
It's still afternoon. There's plenty of time for it to fall into the cesspit of suckage.

"Dear employee of where-ever the hell I was that day;
How could you NOT understand what I was saying to you?
It was a simple question.
Price checking.
How much does this cost you blithering idiot?!
I would not ask if there was a tag on the item, I may be a custy, but I'm not the drooling idiot here today.
There was a price checking scanner down that aisle, but as I informed you, the fucking thing was out of order.. much like your brain today.
All I asked was where in this horrible building there was another machine so I wouldn't bother your day of wandering around the store and scratching your ample ass.
Seeing as you had no clue as to what I was talking about, I smiled nicely and asked if you happened to be new.
But in the snarky language of the shithead you informed me of your wonderful employment of a year.
With that said...
What the fucks' your problem you brainless twat?!
Do I need to use sign language since you can't hear over the sound of your hands digging into your ass cheeks?
I just want to know how fucking much this piece of shit I don't really need or want costs.
Because now that I've gone this far, I might as well finish it off.
If I thought my hands would fit around your fat ladened neck I would throttle you until your face turned turned to the blissful hue of lavender.
How could you not understand that machine was broken, it does not work, if it did work I would not have told you I was just there and it did not fuckin' work.
Stop telling me to go there and use it you ignorant hippo.
That said.
I'm sorry I threw down the pants and called you useless, the truth hurts."

Standing at the precipice

"I didn't mean to stay up so late.
I didn't want to either.
But there you were. Just talking away and I felt I couldn't just let you go."

Today isn't like any other day, and hasn't been for some time.
The detritus of this now gone household trips up my legs.
And I remember.

There's nothing wrong with remembering, as long as you use it to your advantage.
The knowledge of what was reminds me that it can't get any worse.

Well, actually it can. But I highly doubt that falling meteor is going to track me down at this point in time.

I stood on the turnpike, waiting for that next ride that would be my last...
Well, not really. I'm not exactly sure where the turnpike is around here.
And I haven't thumbed a ride since I was a teenager.
Just sounds alot better than I am sitting on a torn office chair in front of the computer.
The desk is old and battered, alot like most things in my life.
Sometimes old and battered shows there was one hell of an interesting life there. Sometimes it just means it should have been junked long ago.
In this case, it's the latter.
Just another scavenged item to use in my life.
It wasn't always that way.
There was one time everything I ever got was shiny and new. Yum, new furniture smell.
But that was another life.
One that fell off a precipice.
In a way, I've been at this road before.
The situation was different, but I remember that rock over there and the twisted metal sign that says 'nowhere'.
Sure sounds depressing, but depressing would be if that sign said "It's true, we really do all hate you."
It's just a bit on the sad side. Even a little bittersweet if you toss in some memories.

"Thanks dad for not loving me. Thanks for trying to foist the blame on me. How could you forget that I gave you my loan money to pay your bills. Which you didn't use for that purpose at all.
Thanks for borrowing and borrowing with no intention of ever paying back. Thanks for making me hope that you really had altered yourself. Changed your perceptions and actually loved your family.
Sure I know some of it is my fault, I didn't have to stay, I didn't have to forgo my life to maintain yours.
I did it for mom.
And now that you are gone, I am left with nothing. No money, no home and only a few boxes that will hold what little of my past I have left.
Thanks, for without your fuck-ups I would still be giving blood and not able to walk away."

So once again, I stand at that precipice and wonder, will it hurt this time when I take that step off?

Day one

What does nevermail mean....

It's those letters or emails or even texts that you would write, but have no intentions of actually sending.
I have loads of nevermail.
Things that I think I would want to say, but upon reflection, know that if I had sent it, napalm in their showerhead would have been much kinder.

It's those love letters you want to send to the person who you want so very badly, but know that they do not want you.
"Dearest Lancelot, how doth my heart beat with abandon whilst you chew your burrito. As the spiced ground beef dost fall from your sweetened lips of cupidsbow curve....."
( trust me, you never ever want to send that )

It's that letter to your boss that you spill your guts about how truely awful a job you have.
"DearMadam; This just sucks rats ass. Your constant drivel about mutal funds and banking methods of Uzbekistan during the brown out of northern Ireland bore me to death. And I mean real death. Last weeks meeting had me sawing at my wrists with the plastic butter knife included with our breakfast muffins.... "

Nevermail.
It's what you want to say, but can't really say.