Relocation.

I miss looting the candy dish by receptionist's desk every evening before I leave work back at our old place. Sadly, that was the only highlight of my day and I didn't even like the chocolate that was in there.  Never again will I compete with Chef Fattie for the last of the peanut butter cups that L rations out so meagerly.  Blasted man.  They’re generic, for pete’s sake.  If you didn’t hoard them like they were so valuable, I wouldn’t want to take them so much.   

I still haven’t come to terms yet that they’ve relocated all of us into this miserable little room of an office next to a grocery store.  It used to be a laundry mat.  Granted, this move is only temporary, but I don’t exactly know how everyone will be able to deal with no boundaries for the next four months.  There are no cubicles--just ten desks crammed with tetris-like precision within 1000 square feet.  Someone has strategically placed the accounting desks inbetween two of the most difficult women in the company as buffers. 

My days grow weary.  

Most pain you can confide

But true sorrow is the one you hide.

Perspective.

As low moans and shrill shrieks pierce the halls,

The apathetic staff ignore their calls.

Vomit and feces thicken the air,
The scent clings closely, a cloak of despair.

I didn't recognize her sitting alone--
Skeletal and sad, flesh sagged over bone.

Thinning hair and rotting teeth
Adorn her body, no spirit beneath.

Her glazed eyes stared blankly at me,
She wondered who I could possibly be.

Dad said, We will take you home, we will take care of things, don't you worry,
I'm scared, don't leave, she begged, Please hurry.

He smiled and lied brightly he would,
While mother said quietly, We would if we could.

But the opportunity had long since passed,
And time with her had ended at last.

Don't leave without me, buy me a ticket, we will sit next to each other, okay?
Yes, of course, we can fly back together, one day.

There is no no true despair without hope
But this is how we choose to cope.

Hey. Don't give up.

"The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live."

-Norman Cousins

This discussion involves eating disgustingly overly ripe bananas.

C: Ok ok, I will give you $20 if you eat the whole banana with the skin on AND sing a song while you're doing it. You can even choose the song.

Cr: I can choose the song?!

C: You can choose the song!

*silence as we look at each other across from the table*

C: Ok, how about I give you $20 if I get to smash the entire banana up your nose while you sing a song. You can choose the song. 

Cr: Why do you make it seem like choosing the song is a privilege?

C: Because I'd like you to think that you have some control over this situation. THERE CAN BE NO TRUE DESPAIR WITHOUT HOPE.

Thursday Nights

Cozy with the cutie.

There is a bum on my bum.

Leftovers, Youtube and pajamas.

So Dad "wants" a divorce.

And life goes on.

You know, I really hate it when my parents threaten to divorce each other for some reason or the other.  And then they let the rest of us know.  And then they end up staying together for some reason or the other. Repeat.

If you're going to be saying these things, about not wanting to be together anymore, you better be fucking serious about it.  Especially if you have children to consider.  And if both of you are going to constantly bring this shit up, then maybe it should happen because your relationship loses meaning and value each time it happens.  Real or not real?