Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Untitled Blog Post

You wake up one day in your bed wondering how you got there and how you’ve just turned 25 and you’re not sure if you’re life has just begun or if you’re behind the pack it’s coincidentally around the same time that you notice that your life is filled with dragging your pathetic ass to work each day and instead of checking your email as soon as you sit at your desk you are more concerned with setting up a tab for gmail facebook twitter and your favorite blog after this you spend time reading but not replying to your email because you’d much rather spend time replying to a new post on SBM and then you reply to a few emails and then hurry off to a quick meeting while in this meeting you realize that the reality of the information age that we live in hits you with a buzz in your cell phone holster a text message from your friend who says did you see your ex's new photo album you quickly sigh and place the phone on silent and put it back in your pocket and once returning to your desk you tell yourself that you’re not going to look you’re going to update your twitter by saying something witty as a slight diss because you think your ex is reading your twitter but they're not so all your close friends say to themselves you're still not over their ex after about 4 more gchats you decide you might as well check out the photo album and it is at this very point in time you realize how pathetic you are because you are looking at your ex and your replacement on some exotic beach in some Caribbean island and you are filled with envy you’re already there now so you might as well go through the photo album upset at facebook for the new ability to post 160 pictures this is a lot more difficult that the previous 60 pictures that used to be your tool for torture you think back to when you guys were together and how what started off as two people who would exchange funny text messages at work and slightly inappropriate text messages when you had a few drinks drink at happy hour turned into coffee dates and then drunk sex after a night of shots and beer on a Thursday night that resulted in you having to buy a new shirt for work the next day because you never made it home and months later you see yourself comfortable enough to put on sweats and your Armani block frame glasses to spend a Saturday afternoon on the couch reading with each other you’ve probably just about moved in with each other to save money on rent and or mortgage and now you have a cat or some little bitch ass dog that you really never wanted but if your baby wants lemons well your baby gets lemons as all these thoughts run through your head you reminisce on how perfect your life was and wonder how it all got messed up you decided to save up for a wedding ring about three years into the relationship and this is when she starts telling you that you don’t ever do anything together anymore without an answer you just remain silent until you come home one day and find that she’s not happy you’re there anymore when you try to have sex she replies it’s sore and you are quickly reminded that you haven’t had sex in over two weeks as your manager walks past your computer screen you don’t budge because you are filled with hate of that moment when you had that epiphany that she was probably fucking Dan her team lead that she seems to always be working late with and as angry as you are you realize that you’re really a punk because you knew it was going on and did nothing about it you invited him to a holiday party at your house so here you are in front of your computer trying to get your life together but not sure if that’s even possible because all this that you’re remembering actually happened two years ago and you haven’t had another girlfriend well except when you tried to convince yourself that you were dating that women you paid for sex on a weekly basis you are so pathetic later that day at lunch you sit alone eating your pathetic deli sandwich with a water to save money and can only afford a $6 lunch and you look at women walk by in front of you and find yourself categorizing the women by the size inch heel and the cut of the dress at the midpoint of lunch you realize that you’ve counted 12 pencil skirts in 3.5 inch heels you wonder how problematic it is that you know the difference between 3, 3.5 and 4 inch heels it’s probably not that big of a deal as one walks by you find yourself trying to decipher if you can find the panty line which you can’t and suddenly she turns around spots you checking her out and like an idiot you let your eyes go from her waist line to her face and then give a pathetic smile has it dawned on you that you could have possibly talked to one of those 12 women who have walked pass you probably not because you’re pathetic and you’d probably get no where anyway at least that’s what you’ve told yourself get a life


JEM said...

that was incredibly hard to read but i understand the whole subtext of it all and how life goes on whether we want to or not and we get distracted by things that shouldn't even bother us because after all we do have lives but we also have curiosities and those are things that we really can never ignore and that's how we end up having drunk thursday night sex and buying clothes to wear to work or school cause we dont make it home but then what happens when we realize that this person was our life and now theyre gone do you just easily up and replace them prolly not cause well if you do that's just setting yourself up for heartbreak all over again and that dear dr jay isnt even the right way cause its all a part of human nature and we know only the fittest survive

True2me said...

LMAO @ Jem for typing the exact same way

it was a poem..

Like a book with no chapters..I read one like that before


JEM said...


Girl...sometimes you just go with things..I wanted to see if it would be a challenge to me to type with no punctuation and no capitalization.

And.It.Was. LOL

Ada said...

your train of thought is sexy. when I go on the metro, I always wonder if the guy that caught my eye might be you, mr Jackson