Stream of Conciousness

Non stop writing. I thought it. I wrote it.

April 6th, 2012
        God I am so bored. Everyday seems the same. monotonous, tedious, drawing on and on, and they still pull me deeper into life. all i can think about sometimes are girls. I wish I could take my mind to a better place to be. Yet as I write this there is a girl at the table next to me. she is cute. Blonde. I seem to be into blonde girls. She stands out against the dusty chalkboard wall behind her. The swirls of chalk emphasize her hair, put up in a bun as she works, on something.
We all work on something. My friend sits across from me attempting yet another drawing.Two hands pulling themselves from the paper, drawing themselves into existence.
My ink smells funny. I don’t know of what, but it does smell funny. The girl of a couple laughs boyishly before leaving. This older woman in a green knit jacket leaves shortly after. She had been looking at me, so had the girl at the table next to me, but not anymore. It seems no one looks at me for long.
        I don’t know what else to say. Its sunny outside I guess. The cars reflect it at me as they drive by, flashing my eyes. Its very distracting. I bought new shorts the other day. Pretty comfortable things.
        Comfortable... Maybe thats why I am so uncomfortable lately, because I have been too comfortable. After all it is the uncomforts, pokes and prods, the adventures and thorns in your daily routine that are remembered. That make you live. I have to have those thorns. I need them, like heroine, they keep me alive. Truly alive. I feel I am the only one though. My friend drawing across from me relishes in comfort. I don't understand. How does each day not weigh down on him? Push him to do new things?
        My handwriting sucks. It;s funny how strange it is. I can barely write.
Maybe though, my friend is just adept at resisting the new. It could be the pills he takes, going beyond leveling out his mood, they level out his life, ironing out the ups and downs, into one comfortable, numb line. How does one manage a life as such? Everything seems so frantic, so important and so life changing sometimes. I regret opportunities not taken. I ask myself though, will I regret taking them more?
Outside of Atlas they have red tables. Two girls are sitting on one in front of a tree. The leaves glow bright green. Through the window I took a picture of it all. In the sunlight it seems so European. How voyeuristic we all are.
Talking to Chris makes me think about how well run Atlas is. Its a great place.
My peace is broken by a Harley outside. So loud. We drive too much. It’s surprisingly pleasant though, all the cars outside. For all it makes me sick.

Author's Note

Feel free to read, enjoy and comment if you will.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ok this is nothingness, simply random thoughts but it was still engaging and had me read on to the end as it is written in an easy and fluid conversation.

[Austin Skye Elsborg]

It definitely is. That's what happens when i write my mind. It's interesting but slightly nonsensical.

[elizander]

i like this a lot because it reminds me of everything i seem to write, just nothingness really to me, but than i go back and read it or someone else reads it (much like i am your piece now) and they feel a great connection to the words. keep it up.

[Austin Skye Elsborg]

I'm glad you like it, and thanks for reading. It is awesome when you get a connection through the writing of others. Also when you gain more meaning to the piece after you reread it.