“I love you too,” I say.
I don’t know why I say that. I don’t mean it.
I say it because I have to.
I say a lot of things because I have to.
I live a useless existence.
Do I love Kendra? Most likely no. I love no one. I walk the world alone.
I’m not fit for human consumption.
I used to be able to love. But I can’t anymore. It’s too hard. And I especially can’t love while a war is on.
I want to love Kendra, but it’s destroyed now since I’ve cheated.
And I like promiscuous sex too much.
It would be nice to hold the same person on a regular basis, but it gets boring. I grow weary of their bodies.
I’m a hard man to please.
I don’t stay pleased for long.
Who am I, I ask myself.
Perhaps I’ll never know.
I never know why I’m incapable of love.
Love is for mediocre people.
Intelligent people can’t love.
We know too much about the madness.
Love is madness.
All human interaction is madness.
I never wanted to be a human.
This is not my fault.
The war is not my fault.
Every day I look at myself.
And I amaze myself.
At the things I do because of jealousy, the pursuit of power, and insecurity.
I don’t recognize myself.
But there I am.
A monster.
An animal.
A monkey.
A human.
An American.
I never asked to be any of those things, I’d much rather be a dolphin or a butterfly. It would even be better to have been a cat.
I’ve punched so many time clocks.
And I’ve never been paid enough.
And I’ve never worked hard enough.
I’m not very responsible.
I don’t really care about anything.
I never could find a reason.
Or maybe I don’t have the energy.
There better be a God. Someone needs to answer for this.
I need answers.
I need to understand my suffering.
And my happiness.
Why the world is absurd.
I’ve read a million books. And I don’t think it has made my life better.
Maybe worse.
I cry.
The last winter was cold. It snowed almost every day.
I almost killed myself last winter.
I quit my job, and ran away to New York City in December. I spent five hundred dollars in three days on strippers, beer, and poetry.
When I got home, I had no money. I had to buy Christmas presents with my parents’ money.
I almost killed myself.
Please pity me.
It feels good to be pitied.
Absurdity.
I cried so many times in the winter.
But it didn’t solve anything.
All my problems were still there.
They weren’t big problems. But they were big to me.
I hate when people belittle each other’s problems. Problems are proportionate to the person’s brain they involve.
Someday I’ll walk free again.
I’ll walk in the desert of Arizona, smiling, with a bottle of cold water.
I’ll laugh at these days.
Too bad that the people who will die in this war will still be dead.
I’ll be alive.
And I’ll go on for them.
I’ll walk to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I’ll stand there like I’m in heaven. I’ll be strong and powerful standing there with my feet in the Colorado River.
But they’ll still be dead.
I have to go on.
I have to fight the good fight.
Absurdity.
Civilization was started in Mesopotamia.
Which is in Iraq.
This is where civilization has led us.
To technological war.
People will die.
I’ve never met them.
But I’m sure.
They had hopes.
Moms.
Dads.
Brothers.
Sisters.
They had people who loved them.
But they must die.
Because they follow orders from an asshole.
An asshole is a person who orders other people to kill other people.
Bush could be an asshole.
In the Old Testament, God said, “Eye for an eye.”
Jesus said turn the other cheek.
But Jesus no longer matters.
Especially to people who say they believe in Him.
Christian Republicans love war.
They love money too.
They hate homosexuals.
And young girls who get abortions because they have no money to raise their children.
I don’t know God.
I don’t know what He wants.
They say He left a book explaining His likes and dislikes.
But it’s too full of contradictions, and it lacks historical proof.
For me to take it seriously.
I grew up in the information age.
Science is my god.
I was taught only science could save me from the horrors of this world.
Not some mystical god.
I believe that there are ghosts.
But I don’t know what that means.
I don’t believe there are absolute truths.
Perhaps I don’t even care about truth.
It’s not like knowing the truth changes anything.
Money changes things.
And I don’t have any money.
So I can’t change anything.
I’ve been broke for three months now.
My parents give me five dollars a day to buy cigarettes and get coffee.
But I just got my income tax check back.
I got two hundred and seventy dollars.
Tonight I’m going to spend some.
That’s my plan.
I’ll escape from this war with money.
Money can save me from suffering.
My mother makes sixty thousand a year.
She still bitches about money.
If you gave her a million dollars, it still wouldn’t be enough.
Nothing is enough for her.
And most other people.
I watch the people of the world.
They’re dissatisfied.
Nothing is enough for them.
They have no peace.
They are constantly disgruntled.
I want to pet their faces and tell them it will be all right.
But I know it will not help.
Existence.
No matter where you are.
It’s hard.
Humans are an unhappy animal.
They live long lives with memories.
Jobs.
Religions.
Choices.
Families.
And never any answers.
Humans seek answers constantly.
But they know there are none.
The universe is answerless.
People are victims of their psychologies.
They can never escape the truth that their mind has made for them.
The people of the world are shattering under the immense power of civilization.
Absurdity.
“Kendra, touch my penis,” I say to her calmly.
She reaches her little hand in my boxers and fondles my penis.
“Touch my cunt,” Kendra says politely.
I reach my big hand in her underwear. I begin rubbing her clitoris.
We both make noises.
I place my mouth to hers and kiss softly.
I put my other hand in the back of her pants and touch her buttocks.
She has a beautiful body.
I love touching her.
She is so soft.
I pull off her shirt.
Revealing her young firm breasts concealed within a bra.
I kiss the tops of her breasts.
Then her tummy.
Then I go back to kissing her lips.
She is still fondling my penis.
I’m still rubbing her clitoris.
Her vagina slowly becomes wet.
I plunge my fingers in.
She makes louder noises.
I love to hear a woman’s soft voice make animal noises.
Her eyes close.
She takes off her bra.
I take off my shirt.