I Think We've All Lost Some Kind

The Smiths Are Singing And Someone Says "turn That Gay Angst Music Off.

I Stare Into A Thin, Web-like Crack Above The Urinal's Handle And Think To Myself That If I Were To Disappear Into That Crack, Say Somehow Miniaturize And Slip Into It, The Odds Are Good That No One Would Notice I Was Gone. No... One... Would... Care. In Fact Some, If They Noticed My Absence, Might Feel An Odd, Indefinable Sense Of Relief. This Is True: The World Is Better Off With Some People Gone. Our Lives Are Not All Interconnected. That Theory Is Crock. Some People Truly Do Not Need To Be Here.

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.

Life Is Like A Typographical Error: We're Constantly Writing And Rewriting Things Over Each Other.

But This Was What Happened When You Didn't Want To Visit And Confront The Past: The Past Starts Visiting And Confronting You.