Thing A

I have of late, become somewhat a misfit, in this world of treacherous thespians. I wonder on without direction, or a fixed point of view, judge little not without caution, no place to label home, a pitiful reluctant contender, in this world to which I have little relation.

You spend your life trying irrationally to fill a gap, only to choose to die to close it. It is ones conviction of solitude, that curious phenomenon, that peculiar paramount necessity that drives you mad for emotional stability. Alas, it is, and always will be, the inevitable reoccurring hammering fact of one’s existence. You are alone, as lonely as Morgan Freeman’s toothbrush. Ha! You think it’s ‘love’ you’re experiencing, you just love the idea of being loved. Welcome to the happy house of wax, now be a good Push Pop, and buy the book, then close your eyes, there there now, it will all be over soon. Life is just a phase you’re going through…you’ll get over it.

“Thing A cannot be discussed rationally,” she said.

“Wrong,” he said. “If Thing A can be discussed, it can be discussed rationally. For if you ever argued that it could not be, then you have just discussed it rationally, disputing your claim.”

“Thing A, Thing A, Thing A!” she said. “YAAAAAAAARRRR!”

“It can also be discussed irrationally,” he said.

The TV eye brought the true naked horror of our lives into the public eye for all to see, then the silhouette of delusion rides into the setting sun, and down pours the names of the Gods that collectively constructed the mapping of your perception. Your life but a stone throw to a lake, tap, tap, tap, tap, splash, as you sink into the murky depths of no return.

“You’re not very tall are you?” she said.

“Well, I, er, I try to be” he said…

And then like the yank of a flush chain, funny how quickly them that love you can forget you. Whilst you’re spinning around the toilet, they’re shopping for new fish in the pet store.