sonicetomeetme

[sonicetomeetme]

It Was a Simple Question

It was a simple question, posed as much in play as anything else, that shook her from her trance of lust and brought her spiralling unwillingly back down to the ordinary plane of existence in which we all grind out the days we have left before death.

“What do you see in me?” was the question.

She cursed him aloud for ruining her escape from humanity and into nirvana and rolled off of him, searching for an answer, for things could not continue as they were without one.

The deep blue evening sky sat still, seeming to be as expectant of a response as he was, and indeed as she was.

Of course, all things being fair and equal, she knew the answer indubitably. He was gorgeous, and she was horny. But this would not suffice. He would not stand for being cheapened.

She looked back to see if he had given up the impossible query and was ready again to be her catalyst for escape. He, reclothed in jeans and naught else, gave her a look so as to reinforce his expectation of an answer.

“Listen,” she began, and then abandoned it. She thought briefly that there may yet be another vessel out along the beach, perhaps, like her, seeking an escape, and that they could help one another in this regard, no questions asked.

Meanwhile, the man with which she had originally absconded was sat on the edge of the bed, a quizzical smile playing about his face. He thought briefly that she was being too serious about it, and that perhaps he should retract his question, and resume his position.

The moon languished overhead.

She stood, angrily grabbed her clothing, and stormed toward the suite’s bathroom.

“What’s this about?” he called after her.

She stopped at the door.

“You weren’t supposed to question it. We were just supposed to fuck and be done with one another.”

“Well, I apologize for not having that in mind when you climbed on top of me.”

She glared. “You think this is funny.”

“I’ll admit I do.”

Her eyes softened. Either she was dealing with a social idiot, or, more likely, this kid had feelings for her. She pulled on her panties and reclasped her bra, which gave her time to contemplate this new revelation.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asked, guardedly.

He leaned back on the bed. "Tell me about yourself. Tell me why you're here. Tell me how you came to be having sex with a strange man on an otherwise inconspicuous evening."

Despite the intimacy they had shared not three minutes prior, she found it difficult to meet his gaze as she shuffled back over to the bed.

"At least, tell me your name," he finally said.

[sonicetomeetme]

New post. I dropped out of college again. I work for a cell phone company and out of four people I am the only reliable one. Regina got mad at me. She'll probably leave me someday, after realizing she never needed me to begin with. Tonight I sleep on the sofa.

I now know how it feels to not be important to anyone. Which would be fine if I wasn't wasting time trying so hard. I have become so much of what I hate about people. What am I doing here, wasting space?

I am in love with what I cannot have. She is mine and yet she's never been mine. I tell everyone how much I love her but I am officially nothing to her. I love her sisters and brothers too, which is even worse. They have a father. They don't need me.

I feel like I need to be needed.

I wish I didn't feel at all.

.

[sonicetomeetme]

Why does every single fucking Cowboys game have to be so dramatic?

I have heartburn again. So there's that.

At a loss for things to add to make this a properly sized blog post. Tried staring up at the ceiling, but nothing came to me. Stupid uninspiring ceiling.

Wrote a poem. You may have seen it; it's that post right below this one. Also working on a little short story, which will show up here in due time.

And we take, cause they give, though I love you...

Fuck I love Brand New.

[sonicetomeetme]

Left Brain

Everyone is

And everything is

So much more free

Ethereal where I am grounded

Incandescent where I am pedestrian

Illogical where I am logical

I am trapped

Stuck in the left brain

Trying to get right

E. Bryan Andrews 9/26/2011

[sonicetomeetme]

Yes, I have the computer in front of me and yes, no one else is awake and yes, the keyboard on my mobile is cramped and the buttons are stiff but goddamn it I will blog what and how I want and it is not your business to judge me.

I am wearing the most irrefutably awesome shirt today but nobody has complimented me on it. This must mean they haven't the mental aptitude to grok the amazing vibes that I am throwing down with my outerwear. Either that, or no one who has seen this shirt has watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. A pity, for this is essential viewing, and not just due to the fact that my shirt deserves more and better recognition.

It was raining awhile ago. A tidy little storm passed right over Midland and pissed on it for all of about five minutes. A bigger one is following it, but it's tracking slightly west of my location, with maybe a stray tendril reaching out to give us a little wet wrist slap for not having faith in it.

If I see another motherfucking chili dog before I die it will be too soon.

[sonicetomeetme]

I'm not going to work today. The very thought of it makes me gag and my eyes water. I feel like everyone around me is upset at me. We're moving out of the house and there is a lot of tension about where we'll all end up. We all have to be out by the end of the month. I don't know if I'll end up in Texas or California. It certainly could go either way. It feels good to blog again.

[sonicetomeetme]

On the computer, in the middle of countless distractions, it is impossible for me to think clearly enough to write down anything worth reading. But still I write. I write because I must. The giant television to my left is blathering on about endless shrimp at Red Lobster, while the kids prattle about to the right. One of the kids is banging on a hollow cardboard box just behind me, which is annoying the hell out of me. But I can't tell her to stop, because I am nothing to her. Also because her step-father is also right behind me.

I wish I could just sit down at any given point in time, with a pen and a piece of paper, or at a computer, and pump out little morsels of awesomeness that I could sift through when I do have more time and combine into something that will stand up to the almost unrealistic expectations I have for myself. But instead, I have this. And this is not awesome.