I need to write, i know i need to write something..any-fucking-thing will do. I need a song, and i am changing one track after another to make sure i find something suitable and now i am stuck on the Killers.
This had to be about Niki. It had to come spontaneously – not manufactured – but natural and it has to have a moment of its own and that moment cannot have a substitute so I’m gonna put this song on repeat for as long as this takes. So, here goes nothing.
There are three parts to this story.
Part one – myself
I am complicated, there i said it okay? For as long as I’ve known myself i have always been a giant mother-fucking riddle! I have. And just when i think i have myself figured, BOOM! – Nothing. Do i hate some of the things i have done in my life…Hell fuckin’ yeah i do…i remember and lament shit i did to people back in the 6th grade to this fucking day, i drink myself to town about it every time and it’s not about to go away anytime soon. The consequences of my actions will haunt me till the day i get shot or something…if that isn’t how i die. But the truth of the matter is i really never get into these things deliberately, they just happen; they fucking do. Do i force them sometimes…sure okay…but do i want it all to end in some giant hate orgy? No.
I used to try to pretend i’m Don Juan DeMarco outside the dining hall every evening when i was in the sixth grade, yeah…your probably falling off your chair right about fucking now if not already…but that shit was real to me. It meant something and maybe six months later i dropped Don Juan for somebody else just as interesting but in all of this role-play,never once did i lost sight of what i wanted and what i wanted was to be – to be complicated.
I didn’t want to become another one of everybody, another easy simple to understand piece of junk. It may have been the best fucking decision in my life but if i had known then that i’d leave such a trail of destruction in my way then i’d never have gone through with it. I’d be happier somewhere reading Chetan Bhagat while sipping cold fucking coffee in the middle of the day and crib about how i just can’t stay away from Splitsvilla!
Part two – Love
To take advice from me on matters of love would be the most irrational thing you could ever do. Sure, my powers of deduction are above average and i may just be able to tell a few things from looking at your face or reading your handwriting but that doesn’t mean i know love. See love and me, we’re not really sure where we’re at. I think we’re strangers in familiar territory but i can tell you a thing or two about relationships. Relationships are easy, as long as you follow the rules and don’t do anything stupid; your game. The difficult part is whats really on your mind when your in a relationship. What your thinking, what your feeling – thats the important part. The two of you may never want the same things but still manage to be in a relationship or alternatively you may want the same things and still manage to screw the whole thing up like a psychotic cat at the dry cleaners.
But if you ask me, at the end of the day with a few naked shots of whiskey down your throat, nothing is impossible.
Part three – untitled
The teenage queen, the loaded gun, the drop dead dream,the chosen one..I feel exhausted, its been two hours and this song wont stop. Two hours to write one post, one frickin’ journal entry that is completely undecorated by my more than usual anxiety for ordainment. See?
This one was for everyone who’ll live long enough to watch me die as what appears to be a very rich but ultimately crazy man, for everyone whose ever watched and truly understood Don Juan DeMarco, for everyone whose heard one single song by the Killers so many times and for everyone who think cursing is an unhealthy yet morally justifiable virtue to posses.
Everybody whose with me say f-u-c-k!