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Nov 2013 · 991
the cost of living
the prince Nov 2013
i haven’t shaved in two months. i skipped shaving for one day and then it turned into two months. i used to do things like this all the time when i was a kid. i wouldn’t have time to brush my teeth in the morning on Monday and i wouldn’t end up brushing them at all for two weeks. i just get caught up in routines and then when i **** them up i get caught up in the mistakes. maybe im just really passive. ive been told im too passive before. i just let **** go because i don’t feel like fixing anything that i break.

im not dead though so i figure im doing okay. i kind of judge how well my life is going by how many terrible things just happen in my life. like if i lose my keys or get my pant legs all wet and disgusting in a puddle or if my car stalls it means i must be doing something wrong. i guess i believe in god and i guess i believe he’s watching me and doing mean **** to me whenever i do something he doesn’t like. that might just be self-centered though, to think he’s always got his eyes on me. if anything, he’s got his eyes on the president of the united states or something. there are a lot of people a lot more important than me that god could be watching.

all my friends are in relationships. that’s okay. i guess i just wish i was in one too so that i could understand all the jokes they make. i mean, i get the jokes because they’re regular jokes but for some reason it’s different. they’ll tell a story that’s really funny and we’ll all be laughing but then they’ll start all looking at each other and somebody’ll be in somebody else’s lap and it ruins it. i’m bitter, i guess. i feel a lot older than i am and im kind of worried im running out of time. ive lived alone in a loft for about 3 years now. i’m 24 and i work at a video game store.

i think im less worried about never finding someone to settle down with and more worried about not having a purpose. i used to want to be a writer. i used to be good with words. i used to make people cry when they read the stuff i wrote. i used to be a poet. now the bags under my eyes are so dark that it looks like sleep punched me in the face. i smoke four cigarettes every day.

i think i forgot to buy cigarettes this week.

i’ve been wondering lately if there’s something i should be doing to be a happier man. i have friends, but as aforementioned they are all in love. do you want to know something really sad and pathetic?

there’s a map in my bedroom of the entire world, all the countries and everything. when i first moved in 3 years ago i started putting pins in the map to places i was planning to go. i would get stricken with these weird urges to go to Thailand or mexico or whatever. i would have the plane tickets up on my laptop screen and the whole room would be dark except for that glowing light because it would be like 2:30 in the morning. sometimes i would be drunk. a lot of the times. but after the first few pins i started to realize that i wasn’t ever coming through with this ****. i would keep the plane tickets in a tab on my laptop until i decided to go to sleep, and then i’d just x out.

so i got this brilliant idea to start writing the date and time that i put the pin in. i thought maybe if i saw the days making spaces between my idea and my following-through then i would actually be motivated to do something about it. but now i just have all these dates written in black sharpie next to these big multi-colored plastic pins and it’s just sadder. night time is terrible because the map just looks at me and the minutes will tick by and then all of a sudden it will be that exact time when i first shoved the pin in and i’ll feel like im vibrating and i’ll be thinking “you could do it you could get the tickets now you have enough money you could get time off at work you could do it” and then the minute will leave and so will the feeling. it’ll be replaced with nothing. that’s the worst. i don’t even regret it anymore or feel sad or angry at myself. i’ll just unpause the episode of whatever stupid show im watching or whatever disgustingly electronic song i’m listening to and whatever fluttering eyelash idea that was there will leave again. it’s like having anniversaries all night long, every night.

i’m so happy when i go to bed early. i don’t drink coffee anymore to keep myself from being awake. i try to do what i can to exhaust myself throughout the day so that by 9 or 10 i am tired enough to pass out in my bed. sometimes, when im in a really bad way, i’ll drink a whole lot until i make myself unconscious. i can’t imagine the state my liver is in by now. i do that more than sometimes.

i had *** with a girl last night. i met her at a record store concert. she kept saying my name. i kept thinking about how much i wanted to play the guitar for her while we were *******. it was really strange. i just wanted to play guitar for her so badly. she left in the morning and she didn’t leave me her number in my phone. that, or i just don’t remember her name and now there is a Deborah or a Mackenzie saved in my contacts who i will not call. i listened to her take a shower and thought about how her hair would smell like mine. when she was gone, i got up and i washed my sheets. her smell disappeared and she disappeared. i laid on my back and played guitar in my boxers on the carpet and i didn’t watch my fingers but i watched the ceiling instead. it looked beautiful up there. last year i made all of my friends write words or draw pictures on light bulbs and then i hung the light bulbs from my ceiling. i like them because they remind me that i’m good enough to have a ceiling full of colored light bulbs.

i just miss everybody so much, i guess. i miss when my friends weren’t all in love with each other. ******. i just miss how things were, but i don’t even know exactly what ‘how things were’ means. i miss them so much that talking to them just makes me sad. i guess that’s why i’ve started writing again. because i can’t tell anybody how much i miss them. they would say, “samson, we’re right here, man. we’re here for you. we’re not gone.” and they would order pizza and we would watch movies and they would shove their tongues down each other’s throats while i watched and wished i could throw a white sheet over them like how they do with dead people.

i guess i must have unplugged my digital clock to charge my phone a while ago because its face is just blinking ’12:00’ and so i have no idea what time it really is. my phone is across the room and my bones hurt too much for me to check. i wonder how long it’s been like that. how long its gone unnoticed.

but it doesn't matter. i'm going to sleep.
the prince Nov 2013
"i hate it when people candy-coat death. they use words like ‘lost, passed, departed, left.’ you know. ‘we’ve lost her. she passed on. she’s departed now. she left us.’



did you know that the world ‘left’ is a contranym? it has two meanings that are exactly different from each other. it means both ‘to leave’ and ‘what remains.’

nothing remains, marley. my mom is dead.

nothing remains.”
this is part of a much bigger project ive been working on that is tentatively called jm. im pretty much only going to post stuff from that. yeaaaaah.

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