Growing up
is a full time job,
Things are
more interesting with a brother and sister.
The viewable
life.
Listen to
this, as I just click off of Facebook. Having yet not know what hypocritical fallacies
I have done.
Yes, hear me
now.
As my
fingers dance on this keyboard, my coughs, dry and unnecessary – I wait, until
some good thought flows into my mind. The only one being, a projection onto
others, how I see mself - viewing Facebook too much, too often, and using it as
a justifiable tool for the inquiry of sociological judgment.
Hi, my name
is Kimberly Watson. And I am judgmental. Watch as my fingertips dance across
this keyboard.
I had searched
up kids from elementary, now seeing their facial hair grow. Their beards, red
with growth, are... echoes of insanity. Echoes of insanity... Because I am
here, now still curious, still fraught with my own memory of the past. I knew
them as kids, and I know not them now.
Distance, is
amazing.
How time and
space may stretch the delicate frames of reality . The fabric of reality
itself.
I know you
not. I know you for shittily not. I know most for not.
Because, I create
space.
I love space
And by love,
I mean, I create space.
Enough
distance for me to think of myself as weird.
In all my
relationships.
With enough
space between us, I may judge us, and feel not any weight on my conscious
because of how I decide my hammer shall slam down onto this oak wooden desk.
Shelf. Pavement.
I watch, as
my nonexistent car, in this nonexistent life, carries on, without me fully initiating
on how it must be carried out.
Without any
job, I judge myself.
Without any
humility to those whom I judge as .. Fools, Ludacris, insane sons of bitches...
I leave myself alone with my own pickiness of isolation.
I watch as
my friends leave me, and leave me as they no longer become friends, but mists
of a memory.
I will miss
you, but I will tell myself not to.
A lesson in
becoming bitter.
You
recognize and hate in people what you hate in yourselves.
Today, and
for the past couple of days, I have had a conversation in my head with a fellow
classmate Joe, that he is too.. bitter. Too bitter for my life. As by me
dismissing him, I make my life greater.
Seriously.
I have
chiseled and carve my own pedestal out of the own.. Real kindness, real
authenticity of broken yet perfect and whole humans, the raw materials, the raw
genetic materials the raw psychologically infected materials of this earth. – I
carve them away into spoons.
From which I
may suckle and sip all the sorrows this INGENUINE life has to offer.
For now, I
leave this abruptly unfinished – as any “life” may be.
SEE – YAH.
(FACK.)
