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Friday, February 10, 2017

Pompous and Single

By Late Night Writings

I feel like shit pretty much all the time, but I function well enough to do what I need to do. I’m miserable, but I use it to my advantage. My life isn’t that bad, really. I have some pretty good things in here. I just don’t let them make me feel better about myself because they aren’t the things that I want to make me feel good. I don’t want nonspecific joys. I want incredibly specific joys. I only want those joys. When one of those nonspecific things plugs the drain in my tank of happiness, I will yank that plug out and let the happiness drain. I want to be fixed by what I want to fix me. Those are things I probably won’t get. Maybe I only want them because I can’t have them, but I really fucking want them, so I am going to get them. I’ll put forth all my effort. I will use all my patience waiting. I will make more patience and more effort to use. I will be happy on the terms I want and I won’t let the happiness from stupid little things infect me. Those should-be-grateful-for things that I am not grateful for. I will be spoiled. I will let myself be spoiled. I want to spoil myself with the weird things that I want. I want to go across that bridge. I am not talking about a metaphorical bridge, I am talking about that little bridge that’s completely unnecessary. I will walk up that delightful staircase at the end of that street I would otherwise not have a reason to visit. I will get fucked in a magnificently expansive field in the middle of the day. I will go see that abandoned building. I’m trying to sound like I have a specific building in mind, but I don’t. I want somebody else to choose for me and I want them to take me there. Spontaneously. I want to do all these things with somebody I love to be with and I want to feel like they love to be with me. I want them to be as excited about my stupid adventures as I am. Maybe two people. Maybe three people. As long as we all enjoy each other, love bridges, stairs, fucking in fields, going to buildings, and every other stupid thing I might want to do or they might want to do that I want to do too. I want to feel that belonging. I want to satisfy my self. I want to live the life I want to live, the life I see, the life I think of. If I can be happy in the one I’m in, I don’t care. I don’t care about this life that I am living. I want the life I want, and I want to be happy in there.

I will do every unnecessarily specific thing I want to do. I will do every single one of them and it will make me happier than I deserve to be. But I want to be that happy, so I will be that happy. I’m going to do it and I will be nauseatingly proud of being as happy as I will be. People will look at me and know that I have what I want, just because the smile I’ll be wearing will be as pompous as I will feel. That smile will be my badge of achievement. It will let everyone know that I am happier than they will ever be. In the mirror, it will remind me that the effort I put into getting what I want brought me all of it and more. My pompous smile will be worn proudly.

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