my brain just threw up a little…

September 8, 2009

scabs

Filed under: random crazies — Sol @ 11:13 pm

Scabs. We all have them. We get those once in a while and we act like little children when we get them. Some scream at the injury even though it isn’t really a mortal kind. Others puff out their chest impersonating an older kid and their bravado and braveness and shrug it off to the best of their ability. Some others act in a directly opposite fashion and very nearly exclaim about having to spend years in PTSD counseling due to this horrible trauma. It really is just a breakup. Only instead of your knee you skin your heart after you stupidly stuck it like a tongue to a frozen pole. The one that does the dumping usually saves their hide from a scab, and the one dumped is the one with the scab to pick for sometime after. We all pick at those scabs. Strong, weak, fake, brave, or insane, no matter which you are or which you are pretending to be – you will pick at that scab.  Every time you pick at it, it feels less and less and eventually you become only aware of that bit that feels somehow different. Your nails now scratch the itch instead of getting caught on that one disappearing piece of crunchy nonsense you rather not think about anymore. And then you stick it right back to the fucking pole, like a retarded child in five layers of clothes, that was again let out to play with other kids in spite of his recent accident that left him scratching his tongue inappropriately with his two fingers.

I came across a classified with a picture of a girl. No, not her, just a look-alike that made me stop. That was truly shocking.  A very old scab, felt funny. Not funny-haha, rather funny-peculiar. Oh well, they say “Sic transit gloria mundi.”

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