I Am Gripped By An Existential Panic.

And It Struck Me Then, That I Liked Sean Because He Looked, Well, Slutty. A Boy Who Had Been Around. A Boy Who Couldn't Remember If He Was Catholic Or Not.

That's How I Became The Damaged Party Boy Who Wandered Through The Wreckage, Blood Streaming From His Nose, Asking Questions That Never Required Answers. That's How I Became The Boy Who Never Understood How Anything Worked. That's How I Became The Boy Who Wouldn't Save A Friend. That's How I Became The Boy Who Couldn't Love The Girl.

I Come To A Red Light, Tempted To Go Through It, Then Stop Once I See A Billboard Sign That I Don’t Remember Seeing And I Look Up At It. All It Says Is 'disappear Here' And Even Though It’s Probably An Ad For Some Resort, It Still Freaks Me Out A Little And I Step On The Gas Really Hard And The Car Screeches As I Leave The Light.

When We Sat Down To Eat I Took Inventory Of The People In The Room, And The Remnants Of My Good Mood Evaporated When I Realized How Very Little I Had In Common With Them – The Career Dads, The Responsible And Diligent Moms – And I Was Soon Filled With Dread And Loneliness. I Locked In On The Smug Feeling Of Superiority That Married Couples Give Off And That Permeated The Air – The Shared Assumptions, The Sweet And Contented Apathy, It All Lingered Everywhere – Despite The Absence In The Room Of Anyone Single At Which To Aim This.

I Could Stay Living In This City If They Just Installed Blaupunkts In The Cabs.