The little things just build and build and build and build until finally...you break. Then you find yourself in a lower level of hell and you pray once again for death but death does not come.
I was determined to process the stuff that's eating at me, twisting my guts into knots and stringing me out like a wired up addict. Hysterics all around. So I got comfortable and did my best to shut off my raging brain.
It's all this shit and garbage I see and hear every day, seeping in like a thousand points of fright.
...always trying to hide in movies. Not working anymore...
I dreamed of a film of the kind I always hate but am bombarded by. They keep coming at you, driving you down. "Oh, you gotta see this!" No, I fucking don't! I don't gotta see it and stop telling me I'm a lesser person if I don't! Jesus, will you people get off my back! Fuuuuck!
One specific name was mentioned: Lindsey Lohan. Another one of those annoying gaggle of celebs sucking on a bottle of death whom I really didn't want to see. Yeah, yeah, she's talented - whatever. Leave me alone with all this shit I 'have' to check out. "But she's so amazing in this!"
God, what a beating.
So what happens but I catch a clip of this 'must see' film on TV. It's set in the Middle East so it can be like Hip and Relevant, you know. "We're here to say something about the times, man. We're gonna show it like it is." Man, freaking spare me. But the first scene was of Lindsey as a peasant girl gathering stuff up. We see her from behind and she has a very high slit up her homemade skirt showing off gorgeous, smoking hot legs and part of her ass. She just radiates sex. I was completely taken in. "I see why she got such rave reviews. Wow, she is hot!" So I gave in on that part.
And I did see these really hot pictures of her on the net a few days ago.
But then came the hell part. The hero of the film was generic-good-looking-guy actor, maybe DiCraprio or of his ilk. He sees Lindsey and he too is swept away by the sight of her. It cuts to a scene of Lindsey swinging in a chair and telling a peasant boy, "I want you to fuck me." That's when Mr. Perfect decides he has to have her. It just so happens, of course, he's in this village doing Important Work, he's young, rich, and edgy looking, he's Somebody and has unlimited freedom to do whatever he wants. And get whatever he wants.
How does one get to that point??
But that's what I have to fucking compete against. Live up to that or be nothing. I'm so sick of these people with perfect lives who never make a mistake, never go off course. The world really is their oyster. Naturally he sweeps Lindsey off her feet and takes her to a very expensive restaurant on a balcony and I got so disgusted I stopped the dream.
But the hell kept on.
When I woke, my whole body was in flames and my eyes literally burned. I was so fed up with my life I couldn't move, catatonic with fear. It was like I'd had an emotional stroke. All my will to live stripped away - I stayed motionless for a very long time.
When will it end?
Where do you go when sleep isn't safe?
3 comments:
No one's ever dealt a perfect hand. Some people just bluff really well, but it only lasts for awhile.
Oh, and by the way, I do have an answer to the last question: Down the rabbit hole!
And where's my bird t-shirt? Him on the front with a pithy one-liner and ten of his best others on the back...
I want to be dealt the imperfect hand of good looks, fame, money and talent! Actually, all I want is my fucking film. No one's put out anything even close to it - and they're getting further away every day.
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