Well it all started in India. Now I have one hundred dollars to my name, sitting beside the canals in Amsterdam drawing a sad face in a sunflower. No where to stay. No one to love. Nowhere to piss. The critics are calling him a dumb cunt. No hard feelings, critics, we share the opinion. Women act like bitches forever and you pretend to let it go and then you get drunk and show your sway, the next morning they say, “I think you have a problem with drinking.”
No, my darling, I have a problem with you.
I came to the Netherlands to work for a girl. She offered me a room, a bike, internet, and all I had to do was work. And I worked but couldn’t please her. And she paid me 100 euros a week and wanted me to work for twenty five hours. I asked her if a girl could stay with me in my room, she said no. I told her I needed to find a way to make more money because I couldn’t afford a haircut. She told me there are places that do cheap haircuts. I still haven’t got a haircut. The day I asked her if I could have a friend over was the day she decided to hate me. I am only an observationalist and do not pretend to know the inner workings of the opposite sexes’ mind but as soon as she realised I was not going to fuck her she wanted me gone. And I dropped a flame on the white couch. After three weeks I was fired. I have never known someone to wake up angry, but she did.
I came to Amsterdam with the friend I met in India. We fantasized about this for three weeks.. After I touched her the first day she told me to stop. She told me it will take some time.
“That’s ok, I understand,” I lied.
We took a train to Belgium. We got to the train station two hours early.
“That’s okay.”
I got drunk at a festival and gave her a hard time because I was upset she didn’t love me even though I am not sure if I love her. But it felt so good to be loved. It felt so good reading an I love you. Me, can you imagine?
In Dharamshala I was the mountain god. In the north of India I had it all together. Anywhere else I am the village idiot. On the train home I had numerous panic attacks. Sometimes things are really sad. Like an old man crying. After all these years they can still get you.
“You ruined something I was looking forward to for months.”
“What did I do?”
“You acted like a child. A self centered child.”
“What did I do though?”
“You ruined my night.”
So I still don’t know what I did but it's true, the switch to hatred flicked right as my consciousness left. I am a little bitch. I can not handle rejection. Whether I want what is rejected or not. Ah well, you can only hate yourself for so long. I look around and realize all this isn’t real, and thank god. For now the sun sits like a loyal dog in the blue sky and the soft breeze is a best friend rubbing my back and saying, “It is okay.”
I am thirty one years old now and
the pain is still there. I still feel like
there is no where to go and I need
to leave where I am. I still feel like I
cannot breathe. I still cannot cope
at times and it hurts. Still.
I am starting to understand it
doesn't stop. I am starting to
understand there is no difference
between I and the wise old man,
the dumb old man, the old man.
There is no age as the surges keep
coming. There is no experience but
the human experience. It feels
better to admit I cannot cope. It
feels nice to concede. Knowing
there is nowhere to go. No going
further down. That it will just pass.
And you won't look back you will
just be somewhere else thinking for
a moment that you have it figured
out.
That it is easy.
Well, now it is
hard and I'll sit still and let the
clouds clear for you, future me.
I packed my bags because another surge came. I contemplated suicide for a bit but only romantically. I just wanted her to stop me and she didn’t. Now we sit on either side of our pride, too stupid to leave love alone. Let love just be. Too stupid. I will drink beer. I am drinking beer. I will smoke a joint by this running river and be glad the reflection will float away. It was a joke to sleep on the street but here I am on the grass looking for the laugh. The sad face in a sunflower. Oh by the way, it cost one euro to take a piss. I have 100 pisses left. I have three options. To change and get a woman. To find a woman who accepts me as I am. Going at it solo. Cheers to me alone.
Ill end up going back to the room. With my tail between my legs. Stoned and drunk like a retarded dog. And I will lay on the couch and pretend it is all okay. And I will wake up as the reflection has re-entered the ocean and think to myself, “Gee, you can't handle the drink.”
It is easy to write when your life is interesting, but if you knew how much pain it took to get that page and a half you would feel bad about getting it for free.
