Writing is one step removed from the world

but that’s not enough

someone I know might read it

So, what is needed is an intermediary who speaks to another intermediary

who speaks to the public

on my behalf

the problem is, we need real conversations

and speaking to intermediaries all the time

gets boring

so, in all honesty, this is not a confession

but just a swirling bit of emotion while I’m half asleep

I don’t think it’s a window into my mind

but if it is, I would be worried…

When I told my first girlfriend that it wasn’t working out

she was stunned

I felt sorry for her because she had been looking for me at school that day

but each time I talked to her, it was like nails on chalkboard

then she started calling me at home and talking about cats

she got her friend on the line

and we had a three-way

conversation

that made me think of suicide

“those sound like nice girls,” my dad said

I felt like they were draining my life force

one syllable at a time.

when I spoke those last words to her

she was shocked, and I was relieved

she found a guy I knew

who was competitive with me

“Can I date your girlfriend?” He asked.

“I don’t care,” I said. He thought he’d won

and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized this is how the world works

there are those who think they’ve won, while the rest of us watch the game on the sidelines

enjoying great entertainment.

When I was younger and angrier

I fantasized about blowing up the whole thing

but now I clean my apartment, go to work, and take out the garbage

I try to understand people by looking at their trash

beer cans, pizza boxes, dishwashing detergent, and old furniture

I think they’re probably unhealthy

we’re all prejudiced,

but if you can see them

in the same way as you see their garbage

you’ve found something

and it might be yourself.

2 thoughts on “Not A Confession

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