Saturday, November 07, 2009

Gasoline routine.

There was once a boy who believed in himself.
He believed in dreams that he didn't understand.
He believed in a family.
He believed in God.
He believed in happiness and the future of the world.
He believed he was special.

Over time,
He lost faith.

In a happy family.
In a hated parent.
In an isolated God
constructed by men
and he said no no i believe i believe
but deep inside
he did not
In himself.
There was doubt in everything.

Over time,
The world turned from large fields and blue shirts
death and terror
beatings and torture
muscles pushed to the point of exhaustion
stomach punched
shaking knees that would not hold still
hands that would never again be still.

Over time,
He lost


God, where are you? I do not talk to you anymore, do I? Did I ever? Do I believe in you? Why? Why?

I am despicable.

I hate so many people.

I know that the feeling is mutual for a lot of people.

I once was somebody. Something

No, I wasn't.

I thought I was.

But what am I now? A washed-up failure addicted to wasting time and feeling depressed and annoyed and shoulders constantly bunched up in tension and agonizing pain

Over time,
he met
a stupid song
konstantine is walking down the stairs
he learned to type without looking
but there would be mistakes
all over the place
and eventually
he would forget the position of each key


he fell in love
are useless
in his hands.


get over her

it's the feeling

of being helpless

of realizing that

He took it for granted that he would end up in Oxford or Cambridge. That he would be tall and athletic and brilliantly witty and naturally talented and a world-famous physicist that he would be all the things parents want their kids to be because they never managed to be

it is knowing that he failed

and there is no chance to go back.

It is knowing that he met a girl who may have liked him. A girl who was so many things at once. A girl he did not know

who lied


A girl who still loved her ex.

A girl with his favourite pick.

A girl who

It is knowing that despite everything

He has become just like her.

It is sitting and waiting for the tears to come but


as always

Just sitting.

And waiting.

My Konstantine.

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