Monday, March 12, 2012

February 1 - Stream of Consciousness Ramblings: Airport


Are we?  Are we really going to do this?

Ok, fine.  Yes, you know me.  Yes, I know you.  And, yes, we are going to continue to stare at our respective reflections in the 5:45 AM blackened window trying to figure out if we really are who we look like. 

Honestly, do I look that different?  I’m still short and, as my ex-girlfriend says, “deliciously curvy”.  I do not look that different.  Ok, I cut my hair by about 18 inches; but my hair’s still pretty long.  It still hits my shoulders.  And I don’t wear it any different.  But you’re a guy so you wouldn’t notice that.  Maybe I’m spottier.  Oh God!  I have acne again.  No, calm down, it’s just a minor break out that he’s not noticing anyway because he’s a guy and you don’t have a massive goiter sprouting from you’re forehead.  Do I?  No, your iodine levels are fine and goiters sprout from the neck anyway.  Oh.  Yeah, “Oh”, calm down, you’re not in 8th grade anymore.  You don’t think he’s cute anymore.  He has that vacant lax bro look in his eyes now.  You know that look, dumb ass, don’t pretend to look like you don’t get it to the other half of your own consciousness. A) No one can that look. B) I am partially you, don’t try to pull that shit.  Sorry.  You should be.  But I honestly don’t look that different, do I?  No, you still look like the same girl the creepy, zit-y guy wouldn’t kiss when you all played spin the bottle.  Oh, ha ha.  But seriously, you don’t look that different.

So why don’t you recognize me, boy I’ve now been staring at via window-turned-mirror for two minutes that I liked in 8th grade.  Holy god I’m creepy.  I should just stop.  Or maybe follow the Honesty Box advice I got that same year.  No, you moron, you should not.  That was written with horrible syntax, worse than that which you employ yourself in your own mind.  And you honestly can’t take seriously any suggestion that you should “shot yurslf becuse yr a crepy lesbian and evryone knows it.”  Also, you’re not a lesbian; so the suggestion’s void.

He’s looking at me again.  Same vacant, lax bro look.  God damn a vacant look can make you think so much…

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