Sarcasm?...What's that?

All im gonna say is that youd understand the following a lot better if you have read "The Road Less Traveled" by Scott Peck, and you have a photographic memory.

I was sweeping floors; damn I was having fun. No one single human being should be allowed to have that much fun. Somebody had to do it though, because the floors were dirty, and floors don't clean themselves (we have to wait until the year 2031 for that). So, I consider myself lucky. Every day I got to clean the floors, and the next day they would always be dirty again. It was impossible to make progress, which is why it was so fun. It feels good to go home every day knowing that what you had accomplished that day would be there for you again tomorrow to accomplish again. On this particular day, I remember, it was pretty hot. The machine shop, in which I was cleaning floors, had no windows or air conditioning; just dirt. As I pushed my broom around, I began to get thirsty. The more I thought about it, the drier my throat got. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a full bottle of Gatorade sitting on one of the machines. It was bright pink, which I thought was odd. "Hmmmmm" I thought, "must be a new flavor...looks good". I didn't know who's it was, and I didn't really care. I just knew I was thirsty, and Gatorade, being a "thirst quencher", sounded pretty damn good. So I grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a big gulp of it. That is when I realized that something was wrong. It wasn't some new flavor, it was industrial strength floor cleaner. I spit it out as fast as I could, and ran over to the sink to wash my mouth out with soap, since I had uttered a few bad words. After five minutes of rinsing, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth, and a sore throat. It seems that someone, who was mysteriously killed the next day, had used the Gatorade bottle to hold some cleaning fluid, and failed to tell me. They also failed to put a new label on the container, and, I doubt that they got a permit from the city before they did the deed. So, I was stuck with a sore throat because of some irresponsible schmuck.
The next day, I decided to confront the schmuck who put the cleaning fluid in the Gatorade bottle. I said "Hey schmuck, I have a sore throat because I drank cleaning fluid from your bottle."
"Yes I agree" he said "You probably do have a sore throat if you drank cleaning fluid."
I was happy to see that he understood, so I asked "Well what do you suggest I do about this sore throat."
"I told you, you do have a sore throat" was his reply.
I said "I know I have a sore throat, I want you to tell me what to do about it."
He replied "Maybe you haven't listened to me. I will say it one more time. I agree that yes, YOU do have a sore throat."
Well, I had heard about enough of his wise ass remarks, so I took his shirt sleeve and shoved it into the machine he was standing by. The machine caught his sleeve and pulled him inside, killing him. He screamed, but I didn't really care; he was a schmuck anyway. Three months later, I realized what he was trying to say to me in our conversation. It was not his fault that I had drank the cleaning fluid from his bottle without asking. He didn't hold me down and pour the cleaning fluid down my mouth. He didn't even tell me it was okay to drink from his bottle. Therefore, it was not his responsibility to find a cure for a problem which I had created. I was trying to avoid the responsibility for my actions, by blaming my problem on him. When I realized I was wrong, I figured I should make amends with him. I drove out to the graveyard in which he was buried, and found his gravestone. It was easy to find, because I had spray painted the word schmuck over his real name, in bright orange, earlier that month. Regretting what I had done, I wiped off the spray paint and the spit, and replaced them with a few flowers. "Damn" I thought, "what a schmuck I turned out to be."

The  Fly  Pen

The following is a parody of the 1960's movie "The Fly" (which is nothing like the 1980's movie "The Fly") and dante's hell that i did for my gothic myths writing class...if you don't know, the 1960's "The Fly" is about a scientist who tries to teleport himself but a fly somehow gets in the teleporter so he comes out half man and half fly...dante's hell is just a hell that has various levels for various levels of sin...

For the last 6 years I have been pouring over mathematical formulas, trying to make impossibilities into realities. I never once thought that my research would lead to my own demise. Darkness is my only companion now. I mean besides my dog, cat, and rabbit. Or wait, I killed the rabbit in my last experiment. But who would have thought a rabbit would die from being chopped in half? I thought they were like worms. Oh well, this is all irrelevant. I am all alone now. I have stowed myself away from my family in my laboratory, for my mistakes have rendered me too horrible for their eyes. What had I done to myself? How could I be so careless?...What's that?...someone is knocking on the door.

"Honey, are you in there?" rings a familiar voice.

Oh no!, my wife! I cannot let her see me like this. I could not even bear to look at myself in the mirror, there was no way that I could let her come in and see me.

"Yes, what do you want?" I reluctantly replied back.

She sounded concerned, "You never came upstairs last night, is something wrong?"

"No...no...everything is wrong...I mean nothing!...nothing is wrong dear."

"Well then why don't you come up and eat the breakfast I have prepared for you?"

"I'm not hungry...I have been eating some Snickers bars, they are packed with peanuts and they have satisfied my hunger"

"Well won't you let me in?" she questioned.

"No, come on in...I mean stay out!...you mustn't come in!" but before I could stop her she had already opened the door and began looking strangely at me.

"What are you doing!?" I shouted.

Then, the inevitable question, "Were you the last one to use the milk?, you didn't screw the top back on...and why have you covered your head with a towel?" she asked.

Her soft voice floated through the air and intoxicated my mind. How could I lie to her? Her, the woman who had always been by my side and never faltered for even a moment. Mother of my only son, Timmy, whom I would die for. She was there for me when I super-glued my feet together. But who would have thought that if you put super-glue on your feet and put them together that the glue would dry and your feet would be stuck together? Oh well, that is all irrelevant now. A sweet angel she was. I must tell her what happened, I could never look into those eyes and betray her trust. Well, I did it that one time, but that was for her own good. If she had known that I was stealing money from her it would have crushed her.

I knew what I had to do. My voice was trembling slightly as I spoke to her, "Darling...you must sit down...listen to what I tell you and do not ask me any questions...do not doubt what I am saying...and please, no smoking."

"6 years ago I began research on the teleportation of molecular objects through molecular decomposition and composition at different spatial locations. I have had great success, but it has ended in travesty. My carelessness has led to a fatal mistake. I began my experimentation gradually by teleporting small, simple things such as silverware. Later I began teleporting small living animals."

As I spoke of experimenting on small animals I could tell that I had enraged my wife. She spoke angrily at me, "Silverware? So that's where all the knives in my silverware set went? I inherited those from my mother! You told me the maid had stolen them! This morning I had to slice the bread with a spoon!"

I interrupted her, "Please, let me go on...you may ask questions later...so, the eventual goal of my experimentation was to be able to teleport a living human being discretely across space. To fulfill my final experiment of teleporting a human I tried to catch Timmy and shove him into the molecular decomposer but he was too fast for me so I decided that I must do the experiment on myself. I got myself all ready, wrote you a goodbye letter in case anything should go wrong, and went on with the experiment. Unfortunately, I left a pen in my pocket when I went into the decomposer and carried out the experiment. Somehow, when I teleported myself, some of the molecules of the pen got mixed in with my own molecules and the results have been most horrific...my head is now half human and half pen. In order to reverse my mistake I need a pen with the exact same molecular composition as the one I had in the original experiment."

"But honey, you are always losing your pen, maybe this is a blessing in disguise", said my wife, hoping to comfort me. It was of no use though, I had already tried writing with the pen which now stuck out from the top of my head, but it looked worse than what I could do with my left hand. She continued on, "and please, won't you pull the towel off your head?...I want to see you."

"OK...I mean no!...no!...I just came out of the shower, my hair is wet." Oh it pained me to lie to her but had she gone mad? Did she really want to see the horror that met my eyes shortly after that cursed experiment? I pleaded with her, "Do not make me show you, I am too horrible for your eyes."

She looked deep into my covered eyes as if to console me as she spoke, "Yes, but you've always been that way."

Her words did not relieve me, "Yes, I know I have become a beast, I am a danger to all of mankind now. I think you know what we must do. We must destroy the world so that I cannot hurt anyone."

Her voice now showed desperation, "But we could find another pen...I...I could tell Timmy to find one. He has always been good at finding your Playboys, surely he could find a pen!"

"I broke Timmy's legs when I was trying to get him into the molecular decomposer, he is no good to us now."

I then ushered her into the molecular decomposer. I set up the equipment so that this time everything outside the decomposer would get decomposed and everything inside would remain untouched. But who would have thought that the entire Earth, being outside the decomposer, would be decomposed and that we would be left hurling through space? Oh well, that is all irrelevant now. As we were flying through space my wife made a most disturbing discovery.

"Honey, this pen isn't part of your head, it's just stuck in your hair. I told you that you should use conditioner!" she said.

"What? there is no way!...I will never use conditioner!" I scorned.

As the oxygen in the decomposer faded, so did we. Everything went slowly black. Then I was tumbling, flying, falling, downwards, out of control, through dark winding tunnels. Then it all seemed to stop and I was in a place. A most horrible place. Before me was a dark forest which didn't seem to have any abnormal characteristics but for some reason looked repulsive. Everything around me made me sick to my stomach. In the distance I saw a leopard-like creature moving towards me.

When it came near I questioned it, "What foul place is this?" I inquired.

It peered at me with its eyes, penetrating my body. It spoke slowly and coarsely "A place this evil is such that comprehend you could not"

"What?" I asked. This creature spoke in words that were harder to understand than Shakespeare.

"This...is the most evil of places...a man I once was...yes."

"Oh..." I replied, finally realizing where I had been sent, "But what I am doing here then? I am a Christian, I am supposed to have been forgiven for all of my sins...surely this must be a mistake."

"There are not mistakes anymore", it told me.

"Oh? I'm sure that my lawyer can find one. Who is in charge of this vile place?"

"That would be the dark one"

"Who?"

"The fallen angel"

"What?"

"Satan!"

"Oh...Yes...Yes of course." I pretended to understand what he was talking about. I hate to ask someone to clarify something more than 2 times. I must find this dark Satan so that I can explain to him what a good Christian I am and how I should be with my one lord, Moses.

"You will see him soon", said the creature. I assume he meant Satan angel, although by the way he looked at me with those eyes I would not be surprised if he knew all that was going on inside my mind now.

Just then the dark sky became darker and a most horrendous creature appeared. Oh no! had my wife too been sentenced to the pits of hell as I, for all of eternity? This place must truly be evil then. But, as the figure became more pronounced I soon realized that I was standing in front of someone who could only be Satan himself. I stood there in horror just as Dr. Frankenstein must have felt when he first beheld the monster he created.

His stature was intimidating but I questioned, "What place is it that you have sent me that even a McDonalds does not reside here?"

"The McDonalds is on the lowest level of Hell" he said, "there we make the most contemptible of humans, the traitors, eat McDonalds for every meal, every day, for all of eternity...and all they get with their Happy Meals is a cheap plastic toy." He grinned as he thought of his own evilness.

"A cheap plastic toy is all they put in Happy Meals on Earth too," I informed him.

This puzzled him a bit, "Perhaps, but the ones I put in break the first time they are played with."

"Yeah, it's the same on Earth," I said.

He cringed at hearing this. "Cursed!" he screamed, "Then I will give them trading cards with small Japanese creatures with unpronounceable names on them! Nothing could be more annoying and painful to the soul than that!"

This place of torture, pain, and misery interested me. I could not help but inquire more about what went on in this scorned place so that I could write a TV movie about it someday. So I asked, "What is on the level above the McDonalds then?"

"Nike has bought the second level of hell and uses the former fraudulent thieves which reside there as cheap labor to make their shoes."

"Jeez, you'd think they could sell their shoes for less than $100 then."

"$100? I'm only getting $5 a shoe...they said the average price of their shoes was $25."

"Was that with or without tax?...was it one payment of $25 or 4 easy payments of $25?...was the offer valid in all 50 states?...void after 90 days?"

"I...I didn't ask." Satan stammered.

"Hmmm...did you get the contract in writing?"

"Cursed!" he screamed again and it echoed all through the evil place, "Damn these corporations! Damn them to Hell!"

It was doubtlessly obvious that Satan was a merciless torturer but he seemed to have much to learn about dealing with large corporations. It began me thinking. Was Satan really as horrible of a creature as people made him out to be? Or, were Satan's behaviors a direct result of how he had been mistreated by humans? Perhaps it was just his horrendous appearance that caused him to be ostracized and now he was seeking his vengeance. I no longer felt the need to escape this dreadful place. For I too had always felt exiled by humans for my differences. I now had another mission, I would stay here with Satan and together we would reek havoc upon the Earth. Or wait, I destroyed the Earth in my last experiment. Cursed!

Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,#$%&@!

this is the first paper i wrote in college, the assignment was something like "write about a challenge you have overcome"...i really havent had any serious challenges in my life, sure i could make up some shit about how my parents getting divorced was so hard on me or how i used left handed scissors in 4th grade even tho i am right handed, but i was and am sick of that bs...and i am really pissed off that i can never spell scissors right without spellcheck...

before you read, you might want to try to recite the alphabet backwards as fast as you can...hurry...

Life is full of challenges which we must overcome in order to succeed. Some of us will be faced with large challenges while others of us will only be faced with small challenges. I think it was Einstein who said "everything is relative". His theory can be applied to challenges, as well as physics. For example, lets say there are two kids. One was born with two arms while the other was only born with one arm. For the kid with two arms, learning to catch a football would be a relatively small challenge, but to the kid with one arm, catching a football could be a relatively big challenge. Furthermore, for someone who is paralyzed, drinking water from a glass may be an enormous challenge, but for me, drinking water from a glass is no challenge at all. Most people try to avoid challenges by taking the easiest way out even though they would gain much more by taking challenges. The kid with one arm probably wouldn't even try to play football because it would be too hard to succeed at it. However, no challenge is too great to overcome, because then it wouldn't be a challenge anymore, it would be impossible. I have personally been struggling with the same challenge since I was nine; I can't say the alphabet backwards. Although I sometimes feel that I will never overcome this challenge, I know that I cannot quit; I have to keep trying.
It all started when I was nine. My step-dad told me and my older brother and sister that he would give five dollars to anyone who could write the alphabet backwards in less than twenty seconds. We all tried but none of us even came close to finishing. I had done the worst. So, my step-dad turned to my brother and sister and said "Now if I tell Lars something, and then he writes the alphabet backwards in less than fifteen seconds, will you guys give him five dollars?". They said "sure", because they knew I couldn't do it. I was sure I couldnít do it either, until my step-dad told me his secret, then I was sure I could. So I did do it, with no problem, and my brother accused me of cheating. He didn't know how, he just knew I must have cheated in some way. So I had to show him how I did it. Instead of starting at the end of the alphabet and writing to the right, like this: ZYXWVU... I started at the beginning of the alphabet and wrote to the left, like this: ...FEDCBA. The new method my step-dad taught me allowed me to think of the alphabet the normal way while writing it backwards. I was happy that I had five dollars in my pocket, but it bothered me that I still couldn't verbally recite the alphabet backwards. Sure I had learned a way to quickly write the alphabet backwards, but that won't help me when I am without a pen or paper. So, I began attending seminars on the alphabet, I read hundreds of books on how to recite the alphabet backwards, and finally, I hired a personal tutor. Nothing seemed to work. I was beginning to think I would never be able to say the alphabet backwards. I tried to tell myself that I could still live a meaningful life, but in the back of my head I was plagued by this question: I can count backwards, so why can't I say the alphabet backwards?
I realize that I could get by without being able to recite the alphabet backwards, probably. But, what if I become the guy in charge of rocket blast-offs and they decide to replace the traditional countdown of "5...4...3...2...1...Blast Off!" with "E...D...C...B...A...Blast Off!", what do I do then? Write it down on my hand? I donít think that would be very professional, and Iím offended that you would even suggest such a thing.
I'm kidding, of course. None of that actually happened. I had to make it up because I don't have any real challenges in my life right now and I haven't really ever had any abnormal challenges. I wish I had. Life is pretty boring here on Easy Street. The biggest challenge in front of me now is just to figure out what I want to do with my life. I am planning on going to the University of Michigan, so I can become an Engineer, but I don't know if that's really what I want to do. The only way I can find out is just by doing what I'm doing, and eventually I will have enough information to figure out which direction I need to go to find happiness.

ONE THING I REMEMBER

When I was younger my grandma and grandpa lived on a lake, and in the summer, I often went over to their house to go fishing. I liked fishing in the shallow water best, where the smaller fish lived, mostly because they were easier to catch. I didn't really like fish though, with their slimy, scaly skin, and that smell, well, I just didn't like them. I didn't like ripping the worms apart to put them on the hook either, but I did like to catch the fish, you know, for the challenge. Taking the fish off the hook after I caught them, was another story, "it doesn't hurt them"- well I don't know about that. Anyway, I didn't like taking the fish off the hook, so I would always ask my grandpa to do it. However, I didn't want to keep bothering my grandpa, just to take the fish of the hook, so I thought of different ways to catch the fish, which didn't use hooks.

My first unoriginal Idea: Instead of worms I would use crackers, and instead of a pole I would use a net. How unsportsmanlike. It turned out to be a great way to catch fish but that's not really what I was after, I hate fish, I wanted a challenge. Scrap that idea. Next one. This time I would use a bucket instead of a net, but still use the crackers as bait. I submerged the bucket in the water sideways, so it was about halfway full with water, and I threw some crackers in there. The fish were cautious at first, but once I gained their trust they swam into the bucket freely. When I felt the time was right I yanked the bucket out of the water, with a few unsuspecting fish inside it, and some half-eaten crackers. Well this was a little more challenging than the previous method, but it still wasn't what I was looking for. My next move: get rid of the bucket and try to catch the fish with only the bait and my hands. They were a little too quick for that, so, I had to make a trap. I could not beat them physically but I could beat them mentally. I built three walls out of sand and I used the shore as the fourth barrier, making a reservoir with only one small waterway leading inside. I put some bait in the little pool and sat still, until some fish swam in. I had run out of crackers so I was using bread, which doesn't really matter. So the fish swam in, and as they did I closed the passage behind them, by pushing up another wall of sand. Then they were stuck, no way out, in a little pool within the lake, separated only by walls of sand. Yet, I still hadn't caught them, they were slimy, scaly and quicker than me. I finally decided to just push the sand walls inward, until the fish was on the beach and gasping for air. It worked, but the fish ended up buried under exactly 6.4587 inches of sand, so I dug him/her out and threw him/her into the bucket with the other fish, and called it quits. Now I was satisfied, and tired, and out of bait. So I picked the bucket up and threw the fishes, or is it just fish, anyway, I threw them as far as I could, and watched them disappear into the clear, glassy water. I hate fish, and fishes.

SOMETHING HAPPENED. SOMEWHERE. SOMEHOW.

There was a problem. People were unhappy. What could they do? They had just lost a war and their economy was virtually dead. A man says he has the answer to their question; a cure for their pain. They listen; they have to. There is no escaping it; it is everywhere. Brainwash: It's not your fault, blame the Jews, they are taking your jobs, and eating your food. They are the reason we are in a depression. We can rule Europe, but not with them, they are bringing us down. They are evil. We are superior to all others, we are Germans.

This is what Hitler preached to the Germans during the depression after World War I, and eventually the Germans believed it. Hitler gave the Germans hope and someone to blame for their problems. He made them hate. Hate is an easy hole to fall into, but once your in, it's harder than hell to get out. To get out, you have to realize that you were wrong and then take responsibility for your actions. But how could Millions of people be wrong? The fact of the matter is that no one wanted to be wrong, and no one wanted to take responsibility for their actions. It was easier to hate, and blame someone else. That is how it began. What may have started as a small snowball upon a hill, had begun to roll down the slope, gaining in both speed and magnitude, and ultimately becoming what is known as the Holocaust. It would take a war to stop this snowball.

In case you don't know what the Holocaust is, I will summarize it. A man named Adolf Hitler believed that all Jews and Communists were evil and he blamed all of Germany's problems on them. He preached his ideas to the people of Germany and they supported him. The main reason Hitler found support is because Germany was suffering from a depression and the people were desperate. Once he had rallied enough support, Hitler assembled an army and began taking control of weaker countries. At the same time, he also set up death camps to kill all Jews and Communists who got in his way. The Jews were forced from their homes and families, and sent to death camps where most of them would die in crematories or gas chambers. At some point, the Nazis either realized they were wrong, got killed, or just gave up, and the Holocaust ended. Now it is in the past, and it can not be reversed or erased. Like any mistake, though, you can learn something from it, and it should not be forgotten. If you forget it, it could happen again. If you can understand how the Holocaust developed you can take precautions to help prevent it from occuring again. After the second World War was over, the United States made sure to help Germany get back on its feet again, so that another dictator like Hitler couldn't come to power, and repeat the entire cycle.

The central idea or cause behind the Holocaust can be applied to many other, perhaps even common, situations. People who are desperate don't always make sane decisions. They are usually thinking about how it could help them, and not how it could hurt others. This was definitely true with the Germans, who were willing to kill people of a certain religion, because they thought it would help them rise out of a depression. In reality, though, all it did was set the stage for another depression which could have been worse than the one which followed World War I. But, we learned from our mistake, and we didn't let it happen again. The cycle is broken, lets keep it that way.

Childrens Book

Who do you want to be?
You have to start thinking about this, you see.

Would you like to be a person who is LOUD, and makes lots of noise, or someone who is QUIET and plays with fun toys?

A person who likes to SIT around and eat food, or someone who is active and always on the MOVE?

A person who buys things they don't even need, or someone who has never been controlled by a thing called GREED?

Would you want to be...
A person who cheats and likes to LIE, or someone who knows that telling the TRUTH is the best way to get by?

Are you...
A person who is always MESSY and unclean? or someone who's NEAT? or, maybe, you could even be somewhere in between.

Are you...
Someone who is friendly and SHARES their toys, or someone who acts SELFISHLY towards other nice girls and boys.

If you're given a task, will you do your best? or will you give up before you start and take a rest?

If someone needs help will you give them a hand? or will you step aside and stick your head in the sand?

Well, you can do whatever you choose, but be careful, life is one game where it's easy to lose.
And whatever you do, I wish you good luck, actually I don't really even give a.

Who would i like to spend a day with?

this is from the 11th grade, we were supposed to write a paper about who we would like to spend a day with if we could spend it with anyone living, dead, fact or fiction...

Who would i like to spend a day with? This is only a hypothetical question so I can only give a hypothetical answer...if I were really given this opportunity I donít know who I would choose. Maybe I would like to spend a day with Charles Manson so I could see how screwed up he is...Or maybe the president, so I could tell him how screwed up the government is...Or maybe I would like to spend a day with a homeless person to see how easy I have it...Perhaps Iíd choose to spend a day with a Native American so he could tell me how his land got taken away from him and his people...Maybe a movie star so I could tell them they have too much money...Or just maybe, Iíd like to spend a day with a slave so I could see how unfair life can be...Maybe I would just spend a day with myself so I donít have to worry about all this shit...Or maybe Iíd randomly select a name from theÖnevermind, stupid idea... Maybe Iíd spend a day with a person who is about to die so I could get depressed...Or maybe Iíd spend it with a factory worker so I could see what kind of job I donít want...Maybe Iíd spend a day with the pope so I could feel uncomfortable...i cut off the ending cos it was stupid...doesnt leave much left, it looked longer when it was hand written...maybe ill come back and polish up someday...

Interpretation

An artist splatters a bunch of paint on a piece of canvas and says it represents his life. And the art critics say to him "Ah Yes! this is wonderful! I see, yes I see! this blue here must represent sadness, from when your father died, Ah and this bright red must represent your happiness from when your first son was born, oh and this dark red over here must represent all the bloodshed you saw in Vietnam, Yes! and this black must represent all of the bad and evil things you have done, and this empty canvas over here must represent god, you didn't know what to paint so you left it blan-no wait, I know! this empty canvas represents the part of your life which you haven't lived yet, yes! this is truly the most magnificent work of art you have done so far". And the artist just nods his head. His painting becomes famous and students study it in art school. And they say "It just looks like splattered paint", but the teacher says "No, can't you see, this is life". Ten years later maybe the artist comes back and says that it actually is just splattered paint, and it has no meaning. Nobody believes him though, they say he's finally gone insane. Or maybe the artist hands them an empty canvas and says "This better represents my life, because it doesn't matter what I paint, you will always see what you want to see". Or, possibly, the artist decides that yeah, that splattered paint kinda does represent his life.

The Meeting

i noticed you

you noticed me??

yeah...i was sitting over there...and i noticed you...

what did you notice about me?

...i noticed...that i noticed you...i couldnt stop noticing you...

oh yeah?....hmmm...

you are thinking?...

i guess...

i hate this

what?

...i dont know...not knowing what to say...not knowing what to do...

just be yourself

my self would be at that table over there just sitting and minding my own business...my self would never be over here...im not me right now...im someone else...

who are you?

who do you want me to be?

whoever you are...

that is who i am

who?

what?

...i noticed you

you saw me?

yeah...i saw you...you were...you...you were you...hi you...who are you?...i mean when you were over there, who were you?...

over there i was no one...thats why i came over here...hi...

hi...

im noticing you...i saw you...im seeing you....youre you...

yeah...im me...you dont have to be anyone...or say anything...you can just sit...we can just sit...i was just sitting...

i was just sitting...that was me...until i noticed you...

then you changed...

yeah...i changed...i like this...what is this?...what am i doing?...

being indirect...indecisive...indifferent...something like that...

does that work?

not usually...

what about direct?

not usually...

so what are you saying, its not what you do its how you do it?...or nothing works?...at least when youre indirect you are less likely to force someone into something they dont want to do...

how is this going to end?

i havent even thought about the ending yet...

then why did you come over here?...you must have had an ending in mind?

youre asking me to be direct?

i was just asking a question...

are you hungry?

no

need to go to the grocery store for anything?

no

you have milk?

yeah...

what are you doing later?

nothing...

would you like to do something?

i might...

i actually like your plans...i would like to do nothing...i mean i cant think of anything to do...what is there to do?

theres always stuff to do..

you sound like my mom when i was a kid and id be like "theres nothing to eat in this house" and she'd be like "nonsense, theres tons of stuff to eat...theres lettuce...cheese...bread...water..."...

did she have milk?

usually...

you could have drank milk...

yeah, but what if i just got done drinking a glass of milk?...you think i should just drink another?...maybe i wanted something different...

you dont like milk?

i like milk...

but you only drink one glass?

usually, unless im eating something...i dont just drink the whole carton at once...there are other people who rely on that milk you know...

sometimes you have to put your own needs in front of others...

i have thought about you so much...

youve never even met me

youre not even you yet, youre who i think you are...i have always known you...you have always been right here, in my mind...ive just been waiting for the meeting

im the one?...we are going to leave here and live happily ever after?...

i never think that far ahead...i dont even want to leave...why does there have to be an ending?...right now is good...if i get to know you any better i may find something i dont like...now you are just blank...i fill you in with whatever i want...

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