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Something Short of Insane--short story
Something I just wrote and thought was kind of uh...bad? lol...
The rain is falling again. I'm getting pretty freaking tired of it. I mean, it's beautiful and all, but jeez, I kind of forgot how the sun feels. I don't know what I'm takling about anymore. Ever since Joshua left me, my barin's been on vacation. Are you all wondering what I'm talking about? Probably...well it all started last Wednesday. I had been dating Josh for about four months and we had been fighting for like two weeks...straight. So there I am, all happy-go-lucky, strolling into our (my) apartment one Friday night, when--BAM!--there is Josh, grinding himself empty to some poor porker's screams.
Life is cruel.
Especially since I accidentally (stupidly) told my 53-year-old mother, who went off on yet another, "Jennifer you're 21 and still don't have a respectable boyfriend. What's wrong with you?" speech. So I had to sit through that crap for two hours and fourteen minutes (hell yes I counted). How glorious it was.
So let's take a look at that weather report, shall we? Oh, look, more dismal, dull rain pounding down to match the incessant pounding of my head! I just realized how quickly my heart is beating. Two thoughts come quickly to mind, one being: wow, I have a haert! and two being...crickets chirping quietly to a bewildered Jen.
I seriously think that I have huge problems and need to be admitted into an insane asylum. I scare myself; it's a wonder I ever got a boyfriend. But oh well, in this messed up world, I tihnk we're all allowed to lose a portion of our sanity. Ah, now I'm in my philosophical mood as opposed to my very very goofy mood. I suppose the rain has that effect on people.
It's getting darker--night is near. I think I'll curl up with a good book and try to forget my plan to burn the porker stained mattress benaeth me (I just know that her nasty porker sweat leaked into the mattress--the sheets I already disposed of).
Life is but a dream...children are smart to sing such a wonderful thing, yet it's sad how quickly we forget that as we get older. The rain goes on, as I will, because that's what I was meant to do.
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My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way. --Ernest Hemingway
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