When you experience the "last time", you never think of the "first times" that come after. Yes, last times suck, and I dont know if its worse to be aware of them or not. When you are aware of them you cherish them, and its hard to let go. But when you are not aware of them, it evades you completely and things are left unsaid. But the last time doesnt stop there. 

After the last time, there come a bunch of first times. First time you wake up without a good morning text. First time you fall asleep alone. First time you watch a tv show on your own, put your lipstick on. Plan a vacation with someone else. Or no one for that matter. Listen to Pink Floyd for the first time after. First time you dress up but now there is no one there to faint over how pretty you look. Or your first time in McDonalds without them.


And suddenly you dont like this place anymore. You look around and everything is the same; same regular customer at this time of the day, same waitress as any other Friday. You get the same stupid meal and sit at the same stupid place you always do. Plug your charger and look around. To people around you, you are the same. Youre the same girl they see each Friday at noon, sitting in the same spot, at the same table, eating her fries with too much ketchup next to it (just in case), and holding her phone in her hands. They dont know. They dont know that you hate this place now and that thats exactly why you come here. 



They dont know. It feels like someone should know.

 

Pink Floyd should know


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

  I am sitting on the train to Frankfurt. There is an old man opposite of me. He looks very messy and unclean. He has a really big belly and grey sweatpants. His scrotum seems michelangelesque, if Michelangelo's David was some trailer trash, beaten down, obese, old man. Meaning, it is very visible underneath the fabric. That is why I noticed. Nothing else. I also notice his balls are on his far right, both of them, while his penis is on the far left. Almost as if completely separated from one another. Almost as if he chopped them up in a fit of male-like rage and then, after regretting that impulse, hastily put them back together. But you can always tell when something was once broken. The vein in his forehead is throbbing, probably because it takes everything of him to keep his half-closed eyes opened, and the vein knows it. Even the vein is sick of his crap. It betrays him. It wants to break free. But who in the right mind would adopt this vein? The morning Sun makes some of hi
Read more
 Sleeping creeps me out. I dont get the hype. I get the need, its physiological and I do love to sleep, but just the mechanism of it... Its weird, to say the least. Its like being under general anaesthesia; it feels great, cause it doesnt feel, but its creepy, being unconscious and unaware of whats happening. Its like being dead for a while basically.  Just like with any anesthesia, some people wake up in the middle of it. And thats not fun! Some do stuff unconsciously, they call it sleepwalking. And the fact that your body does not know the difference between reality and imaginary makes everything even worse. It may all be a dream, and you are fully aware of it after you wake up, but your body actually goes through your dreams like they are real. You fall asleep, and you wake up with new phobias, feelings or experiences. You dont pay much attention to them, until some time after in real life you see the person who tried to kill you, or who you had sex with, or you see that cat next to
Read more

January 26th, 2024

 "The dog is sick", my mom says. My uncle´s house got broken into. I have lost count how many times that happened already. They were sitting in the living room and heard rumbling upstairs. Had the dog not have been sick, she would have warned them (that bitch). The dog´s name is Fifi. I have lost count how old she is. I have lost count of many things. One thing I lost count of is how many things I keep losing count of. She is very messy and very protective. That dog can meet you one hundred times and she will bark at you for one hundred and one time. Her hair is also messy. I do not know what breed that dog is or where she came from. My uncle already had a dog once. They called him Drug, which mean a pal in bosnian. That is what they say they named him after. I always felt it had a nice communist sound to it. Drug was very polite. Males usually are. They are not as protective as females. And everyone remembers Drug. And everyone speaks highly of him. But Drug never made so mu
Read more