July Eighth. It's a Thursday afternoon, a little after three, not quite half. I'm sitting here enjoying a late lunch, rather my meal of the day. I needed some alone time so I decided to eat here rather than go, this is nice. But I'm not sure I should have this machine out in the open, there is a reason this place bares such a reputation. I was a victim of it all earlier this morning. Just think, I only have a month or so to stay in this rut-stricken setting. It's just one big bowl. Only a select few are chosen to climb out thru the ever thinning straw. Filtered to be pressured to be free. I'm not even hungry anymore, shoot I'm never sure that I even was in the first place. Today has just been blan, no flavored soup here. The more I stay here the more I need to just go. My second bite of subway was well liked. I do feel like I'm the star to my own mellow drama. Watch...(the audience is hesitant for the next plot twist)...Bam! Out of nowhere she's kidnapped and murdered! the end. State my mood here? I'm in a rut of inaction. The audience sees through my framed eyes, they hear the thoughts that enter my ears, read the captions of the words that enter my mind from within. "Hey Soul Sister" plays in the background. The faint noise of customers flutter their noise as a butterfly flutters her wings. "...Watching you is the only drug I need.." Yeah that and a couple of maximized sleeping pills to coat the pain away from an ever sinking heart into a never ending trash bin. I don't belong here. I'm reminded of that everywhere I turn. I have an eye appointment next week, I need to get fitted for contacts so I can fortunately see through a different lens other than my corrupt own.
I chose the booth in the corner and I'm hiding behind my hair. On the way over here I hid behind my Dior sunglasses. On the way back I'll hide behind what I imagine people see me as. The constant person I imagine I am in my head, the person far from the one yielding the pen! (rather the own in charge of the motion in my finger tips) Don't watch me eat because I'll most likely disgust with my lack of care. Awh, that's what that guy was waiting for, six boxes of pizza from the Little Caesar's next door. Hooray! No ones getting laid tonight! I really only hold a small existence in this world. It's so much bigger than I am. I'm only a spec of dust. (She mutters as that one single tear falls down her cheek) I really need to figure out how to italicize things on here. I have profound respect for this janitor lady..She's smiling way too much. I'm jealous of her happiness. I'm jealous of the family feelings that are oozing out of these subway employees.
Sent from my iPad
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