Ahh, the beginning of the end. When I start to grow quite fond of laundromat washers. I don’t know which one is more tragic: the loss of my mother, or the loss of my F-16 T-shirt collection. Both are things that happen later, but… well, you’ll see. Read on.
So I move out of the ghetto shit trainwreck of a so-called “boarding home” and move into the same shack I lived in for a few months in 2005. I drop most of my stuff off at my bestest-friend’s place because there’s no way two packrats are living in a micro-sized tool-shed. I slept on the floor most nights.
I had my Cube computer, my HP laptop, and my Gateway laptop, when I moved in there. Also took my CD-recording stuffs, TiVo, and a few other things. When I got there, the whole place was a mess with my friend’s junk. I organized a bunch of it and set up my stuff along-side his – somewhat of a bad move considering we both have similar techno junk. He’s got a Blu-Ray equipped Vaio laptop, though. Can’t touch that.
Things were meh for a while… he got me involved in World of Warcraft and I had fun. It helped me ignore the credit card going out of control, the lack of money, the lack of food, and the lack of air conditioning in the hundred-plus-degree heat. It truly is the beginning of the end. I was living at this friend’s place – actually, it’s not his, it’s his step-mom’s place. His step-mom is a psychotic nutjob that hardly speaks English, yet because of the beauty of marriage, his dad can’t divorce the pain-in-the-ass because she’d get the house, the money, the cars, and everything. And that’s the only thing she’s smart enough to realize – so she can do whatever she wants and get away with it. Including kicking me out, despite me not causing them any trouble at all, just because she doesn’t like the way I look at her. Or something. I don’t know. I think she hates my computers, or how much “power” they use (she swapped a 13 watt fluorescent bulb for another 13 watt bulb – she’s just that stupid). But at any rate… I was out of there on the 15th.
Basically, day after day I was sitting there, eating dry Ramen out of the bag, playing WoW. For a few days, the business we had been trying to start (Falcon Systems) took off and we got like, 3 customers, for a total of about 300 bucks in a few days. It was looking good until I heard that it took like, 100 flyers, posted all over town, to get that few calls. It wasn’t working, so the business crashed and we gave up on it. I’d sit there with the box-fan-swamp-cooler blowing sweet cool air at my face, wondering where my life was going. Pretty much nowhere. Freedom is something that doesn’t exist.
The night before, I ended up putting two songs on loop: My Chemical Romance – Welcome to the Black Parade, and Matchbox Twenty – Could I Be You. I lay there in bed thinking about my miserable life, how far down I’ve fallen, and why there’s nobody that seems to give a quarter of a shit. And only one person I can really talk to that cares, or can even try to relate. And I think of how I could “go out with a bang”. And I don’t mean being a suicide bomber – that’s for religious psychotic douches. There are just some people and things that need to be removed from existence… and my little fantasy world of an idiot-free world was becoming more and more like a reality.