“That is one ugly ****ing table”
The other day I was talking to Gabe, a friend of mine, when he casually pointed out that I don’t actually do most of the things I say or propose myself to do. And then I curiously asked “Like what?” and then he went on with a full list of things, chores, suggestions, missions, quests, bets, self improvement, public improvement, writings, speeches, talks and any other action or activity that would simply end in the future without something relevant to talk about. Not to mention that most of the examples were meaningless ****. ‘’Oh and like that time where you said you were going to take your dog to the park and actually didn’t take him because you had to do something else”, or “Like the time when you said you and your family where going to the beach with your cousin for spring break but didn’t go because instead you went to Butt**** Nowhere” and on, and on… So then I started thinking how this guy could recall that much events about my life that I could hardly remember.
So I let my mind drift of from the main of the conversation and went to one of those “dead spots”. The kind when you are mindlessly staring at a table while you are picturing how “X”girl that sits next to you in the classroom would would look naked. This only, of course, if she is hot. ‘Cause forgets thinking about a girl naked if she isn’t hot, in each person’s own definition of the word. And you can go on thinking now about how her skin would feel. And how she might react to your preferences over meaningless **** like floor tile colors; blue over green, green over yellow,” holy **** if I have to choose only between yellow and hazelnut I would definitely go for wood instead”.
And then you think about how would wood look in your kitchen. And then you drift back to “X” girls tits. And now her personality. And now her pussy. And you go on and on interchanging subjects and thoughts and when you least expect it, now you are picturing how “X” girl might be if she was your girlfriend. And how would it be if she married you, and had a life and kids together over the years. And maybe grow old with her next to you to compare the scars of a well lived life, or maybe she and you got divorced mainly because of that fight you would have about her parents.
****, maybe she doesn’t even have parents. And you are still staring with dead eyesight at the ****ing table. And what do you know now you are thinking of “Y” girl’s ***. But before you go on in your thought pattern again. You kind of realize: “Holy **** for how long I have been staring at this ****ing table ”but suddenly your friend or a passerby stranger says“ Hey!” Followed by a “You didn’t answer my question” or “You alright?” “What are you thinking about?”. And then, there I was in my dead spot. When my friend says “What, you thinking about what I said?”. And then I couldn’t for **** remember what was I thinking about.
And all of my thinking happened in approximately five short seconds. But to me it was a lifetime thinking about something that I know I just thought a moment ago before Gabe asked me his question. It’s in my brain down there, I know for sure, and maybe I got a glimpse of it before it went away. I’ll think “Oh yeah something about what would happen if I killed the building’s secretary by accident”.
And then the next day I will try to remember the thought again but the only thing that would come back to me would be “Was it about something Gabe said?” “He asked me a question didn’t him?” And then I’ll go through my day without remembering the event of even thinking about that it took place. When then in about a week or so I will remember about that time when I tried to recall the thought I was pondering while staring at the ****ing table when Gabe asked me a question. And I will simply go “Agh, how important could that have been”. Without realizing that maybe, just maybe, in a way I was about to cure cancer.
But hey, the gorgeous face of that woman I passed while getting to Gabe took some space in my thought pattern and ****ed it up somehow. “Ah, whatever” And then I’ll go back to the answer to Gabe’s question about what was I thinking of.
And I will casually respond “Nah not really”. And then I will simply move on to pointing out that I actually don’t give a **** about what I do or don’t do. And suggested to Gabe that maybe he could spend a little more time finding what **** HE doesn’t do, instead of stalking my every move while those gay thoughts knocked on his cortex. He took my answer as a crude response. And said that I didn’t have to be an *******. Like most of the time, I don’t know if what I say is offensive, or crude, or bold ; or if it is that the people I chat with are too sensitive.
After getting home. This whole thing happened back then. A half hour to reality. A ****ing year for me. I guess relativity is a *****. I moved on to more important things to think about. Like what should I do tonight.
Reply With Quote
I am just a bit overtaken today by that horrid sense of unbelonging and loneliness. 
Originally Posted by madame_bovary
