"Do You Have A Lifestory, Jimmy?", chapter 10
I got a rock and roll band
I got a rock and roll life
I got a rock and roll girlfriend
And another ex-wife
I got a rock and roll house
I got a rock and roll car
I play the shit out the drums
And I can play the guitar
I got a kid in New York
I got a kid in the bay
I haven't drank or smoked nothing
In over 22 days
So get off my case
- TUNNY
Tunny. So much time had passed by. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months.
The last ten days, Tunny had beat up my mind. He had been there, killing more and more of me. In decision to kill.
The other side of the postcard was plain black, with a skull painted afterwards.
So. Tunny had it a lot better than me then. He had married someone. He had learned to play drums and guitar in a band.
I sighed. Well, had I even cared about him before he wrote this?
Once again, his decision was just to kill me.
I decided to leave it behind. I stuffed it in my secret hatch, feeling a sting of sorrow well inside me.
Why? Tunny was just being mean to me nowadays.
But he had been my friend.
He probably knew I had fucked up, or at least were assuming I had. And he was right. I was fucked up.
That's when you've reached the end. When you're ready to die, and life just feels dumb and overrated to you.
When all you want is to lay down, and get a goddamn sleep. But the nightmares haunt you, even during the days.
I sighed. I was just making parody of myself!
Mom hasn't been up here for a week, I forced myself to think of another subject. Maybe she was dead? I hoped so. Amelie, however, was gone. She had run off, following my traces.
I partly understood her. She had lived in the same misery as me, all since she was born. Never really gotten a good education lived in a poor home with a drug addicted mom and a stupid step father, plus, living without her long-lost brother.
I felt crap. What was that to come up with? What a support I was for her. Showing her "this is the way, run off and end up fucking yourself up." Everything was my fault.
First, fucking myself up. Then, fucking my friends up. And then, fucking my sister up.
No, I needed to sleep. I couldn't take it.
I looked around to get something else on my mind.
A picture caught my attention. With trembling hands, I picked it up to have a closer look.
She was familiar. Very familiar.
A mysterious smile... those attentive, lively eyes... I knew her. From somewhere.
I searched through my mind. Of all the girls I've seen... I got it. Did I ever even know her name? Because what appeared in my head was Whatsername.
She and I. Sitting in a lane.
Small, faded memories flew back. I closed my eyes and let them dance on my eyelids.
I wondered what she was up to. And if she remembered me. After all this time.
Was there anyone who had taken my place?
I moaned. Seeing her disappointed face in front of me was hard. I felt so heavy.
Like a sleepwalker, I picked up an old crayon from the desk.
WHATSERNAME., I wrote in big letters on the blue-ish grey wallpaper. DOES ANYONE CARE IF NOBODY CARES?
I got a rock and roll life
I got a rock and roll girlfriend
And another ex-wife
I got a rock and roll house
I got a rock and roll car
I play the shit out the drums
And I can play the guitar
I got a kid in New York
I got a kid in the bay
I haven't drank or smoked nothing
In over 22 days
So get off my case
- TUNNY
Tunny. So much time had passed by. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months.
The last ten days, Tunny had beat up my mind. He had been there, killing more and more of me. In decision to kill.
The other side of the postcard was plain black, with a skull painted afterwards.
So. Tunny had it a lot better than me then. He had married someone. He had learned to play drums and guitar in a band.
I sighed. Well, had I even cared about him before he wrote this?
Once again, his decision was just to kill me.
I decided to leave it behind. I stuffed it in my secret hatch, feeling a sting of sorrow well inside me.
Why? Tunny was just being mean to me nowadays.
But he had been my friend.
He probably knew I had fucked up, or at least were assuming I had. And he was right. I was fucked up.
That's when you've reached the end. When you're ready to die, and life just feels dumb and overrated to you.
When all you want is to lay down, and get a goddamn sleep. But the nightmares haunt you, even during the days.
I sighed. I was just making parody of myself!
Mom hasn't been up here for a week, I forced myself to think of another subject. Maybe she was dead? I hoped so. Amelie, however, was gone. She had run off, following my traces.
I partly understood her. She had lived in the same misery as me, all since she was born. Never really gotten a good education lived in a poor home with a drug addicted mom and a stupid step father, plus, living without her long-lost brother.
I felt crap. What was that to come up with? What a support I was for her. Showing her "this is the way, run off and end up fucking yourself up." Everything was my fault.
First, fucking myself up. Then, fucking my friends up. And then, fucking my sister up.
No, I needed to sleep. I couldn't take it.
I looked around to get something else on my mind.
A picture caught my attention. With trembling hands, I picked it up to have a closer look.
She was familiar. Very familiar.
A mysterious smile... those attentive, lively eyes... I knew her. From somewhere.
I searched through my mind. Of all the girls I've seen... I got it. Did I ever even know her name? Because what appeared in my head was Whatsername.
She and I. Sitting in a lane.
Small, faded memories flew back. I closed my eyes and let them dance on my eyelids.
I wondered what she was up to. And if she remembered me. After all this time.
Was there anyone who had taken my place?
I moaned. Seeing her disappointed face in front of me was hard. I felt so heavy.
Like a sleepwalker, I picked up an old crayon from the desk.
WHATSERNAME., I wrote in big letters on the blue-ish grey wallpaper. DOES ANYONE CARE IF NOBODY CARES?
