Taxidermied taxidermist driven by a taxi driver who desperately needs a screwdriver to repair his tracking device. The taxidermied taxidermist is dead, thus, the taxi driver tugs the taxidermied taxidermist out. The taxi driver is in grief upon the loss of the taxidermied taxidermist. He gets a screwdriver and fixes the tracking device, but the taxi driver misses the taxidermied taxidermist so he tugs in the taxidermied taxidermist again and takes his own taxi to drive home to use the toilet. This is stupid.
I stutter. Not bad, but just enough for people to notice and not say anything, simply to avoid embarrassing me. I have always known this about myself, but as I started getting older, I realized that a teenage girl with a stutter isn't the absolute most attractive thing in the world. With time, I began staying quiet in busy conversations and crowded rooms. I learned to not speak unless I was with someone who would not mind the slight stutter in my voice when I spoke. It wasn't until I was sitting with him in a small out-of-the-way diner that I realized he was aware of this imperfection of mine. He mentioned it casually, and went on about the conversation like we were discussing the weather. My face changed to that shade of red that I always get when nervous, and he calmly took my hand. He was the first person to bring this up and the first person who knew exactly what to say. He didn't laugh at me like most people usually do. Instead, he said that it was something that he liked about me and something that he had told his mom about me early on. He welcomed this imperfection and saw it as worth keeping. This is why I am thinking that he might just be the person with a few slight imperfections worth keeping in my life.
I don't understand it; I don't in the least understand why he did not like Dave Brubeck.
I learned to lower my expectations from the hard way. You know, as a 32 years old woman, time does not flow through my side. It's been ages since I stopped waiting for the prince charming. But how could I live with a man who listens not music but meaningless, instruction sound? Yes, I'm talking about you, Techno music!
Finding an appropriate man is harder than finding an appropriate dress in these days.
And then, you know, my mom gets into the stage.
She has been telling me- well actually, begging me- for my whole life: "Annie, why can't you be a bit easygoing, my beloved daughter?"
I might have heard this sentence, more than "I love you."
Well, this is not true.
I'm sorry. My therapist and I have been working on this 'lying thing.'
I can see I bored you. So my answer is I don't know over intellectualism can kill you or not, but I do know that loneliness really can break one's heart.
Was I helpful?
Our actions reciprocate. Every outward thing we do flutters back like a boomerang and conks us in the head. Watch as I stumble around dizzy. I’ll be alright. And as I regain my balance I wonder: Are there any honest freewheelers out there anymore? Any righteous firefighters? Because my heart is on fire and I’m descending into the kerosene. I’m one inch from sin, 2 feet from doom. My faith is on the verge of compromise; but watch me as I will never curse the Lord. The way I see it: I planted the trees, I must rake the leaves. Authorities surround me like chess pieces. Watch me. I’ll succumb to them eventually. We all do.
Placing the object in you hands, I left you. You didn't understand why but I still left. I needed to. It's not my fault if no one can understand that. I drove down a high way, it quickly turned to dirt. Dust coating my car, I pulled into a gas station. The owner took one look at me and knew why I was there. They offered me a job. I work here now, where ever here is. I never bothered to ask where here was. I figure I'll pick up a map one of these days. I don't know when. It kind of scares me that I don't know. If I think too much about where I'm going or what I'm doing or why I'm here, everything goes black and man walks out from behind a curtain and asks me more questions I don't know how to answer. Everything hurts.