Catastrophic Execution.

         There are some things that I lack, personally. I know not of what they are specifically, but I can tell you I am missing a great deal. It’s not missing out on so-called-life, or so-called-sex, I can get plenty of both, I know this for a fact. But I’ve just realized that we are all doomed in the end. There will never be this so-called-peace because of all of our so-called opinions, even though no opinions are original, they are ideas started by one radical and people take them as their own opinions when really they are stupid as hell and will amount to nothing.
             I could tell you I am your so-called-president, but I do not wish to be this hated. I could tell you that I am a lawyer working under my father’s firm in which he left to me when he died in a horrible car bomb with my mother, brother and sister. Luckily, I was at a friend’s home and didn’t die, so after this happened I proceeded in traveling from orphanage to orphanage. My grandparents-who hated my father for marrying my Irish mother-would call the orphanages installing false hope in me, this gave me a fear of phones, which will be more vital in my older years soon arriving. My other grandparents, who happen to be fully loaded, bought me an apartment at the age of 17. I was a happy, strapping young man who rolled down the windows in my car and spray pedestrians walking by with a water gun, and tell them that they got a shower. I could drive amazingly and I could do tricks with my breaks and weave in and out of traffic with ease and make the best fish tail figurines ever. I was the guy in the fancy car would would beep the horn so fast, it was like a drum line. I had gorgeous girlfriend, her name will be April who is also from Ireland, she happens to be the adopted sister of my best friend. We are meant to be because we have both had a horrible past involving our families and we both search for love.
In this premise I could tell you that I have proposed to her during a romantic dinner and she ran away, I looked but could not find her. I then decided to slit my wrists, throw my self in the water and die, but before I commit this henious act, I will pose dead and throw rotten meat infront of a truck and hire rent a cops to make my friends aware of my death.. But wait! Someone has seen me lunge my body to the water, an old man cutting down an evergreen tree for Christmas. Luckily he was a doctor, and he just so happened to be my grandfather who was full of hatred when I was a child! Indeed this is the case. He tells me to take pain killers as he sewed my wounds with fishing wire and tells me to take it easy.
         And I will respond with a slight laugh, “Alright Grandad! Thanks for being there for me!”
         Since this doesn’t seem to work out for me, I decided to kill myself many other ways.. Like being under the influence of THC and then drinking bottles of NiteQuil, which made me quite knackered.  I try that method twice, the second time I had a massive heart attack because I am weak at heart.  It truly does suck being me.
         And I will walk away to my girlfriend (who I found at our apartment, safe and sound) and she tells me she is pregnant. This is distressing, but I am willing to be the father of this unborn child. I tell her this, but she is uneasy. You see, she has been raped in the past, she is sensitive to touch and strong feelings for people. (As a young girl, she was raped by her family- the only people she trusted, and they placed her mal-nutritioned body in a drum and proceeded to urinate in it, and beat the drum senseless. They leave her out in the middle of the night, and she is left to sleep inside an animal which was hit on the side of the road. She’s tough as nails but she’s scared and soft.) But she agrees to becoming a parent. Sadly, she has lied about the comfort of the pregnancy, is scared and tragically throws herself down a flight of stairs, killing the embryo, killing my dreams, and paralyzing our future. In months to come I go through a deep depression, girls are obsessed with me and I ignore their cries to be with such a person of my stature. I then attempt suicide again, but this time no one can find me. I have gone to a cabin I own three or four hours away, my two friends..(they will be Bill and Paul) and April drive all around looking for me. I have left clues as to where I am, and once they get there they find me sot and sedated. My girlfriend and I engage in sexual escapades, because let’s face it, she has no words to say and only offers her body. Thank goodness they’ve gotten me, or I would have really done a number on myself. We return back home, where we all live together as a happy family.
         Just as things are getting better, they get worse, April has a sexual identity crisis and starts to drink heavily. She starts to like girls, and is constantly drunk, her eyes are always glazed over in hatred and I cannot break through her wall. She’s hard as hell, but fragile as fine china that we have locked in a bureau. Bill and Paul I tell you, are crazy kids. Bill, who  is married to his first girlfriend, an Asian model and was surely blinded by loosing his virginity at the age of nineteen.  He's the catholic who’s mom just adopts kids from all over-he went on a cruise once because he was a page turner for the chorus! How lucky.  Paul.. Well Paul’s a good guy, with a clouded mind on his shoulders, who takes his clothes off at clubs.  Who has two kids though he's a turbulent sex addict, who also like cocaine, who left ever so abruptly.  But that’s all water under the bridge, as they say..
         Water under the bridge.
        Or don't let one bad apple ruin the whole bunch, girl.  As Donnie Osmand would say.
         Then my job, oh boy!  My job.  Don’t tell anyone this, it’s very, very personal.  If they knew that you knew, I would have to slit your throat during your sleep- which I have done to my twin brother, but I didn't know it was him, seeing as I ran away from home when I was 16 and then proceeded to live a life of crime.  So the relationships I've had with my family members are extremely lack luster.  I’ve been exposed to poisonous gases, I’ve been close to death.  I’m in the MI5, which is equivalent to the American CIA, I am British. 
         I’m a trained killer.
         I’m crazy.
         I’m crazy in love with fantasy.
         Realities harsh world, pushes me.
         Literally.. I am also in a wheel chair with a penis that doesn’t seem to function.  I have no idea when I have to use the water closet, so I have a catheter attached to me, and I have to empty it every so often, or else it will spray everywhere.  Piss everywhere, and I would not like to clean that up.
         No worries though, I can drive.  And I don’t care if a girl tells me she’ll love me with no legs, I want a wheelchair bound beauty so I can feel equal.
         And so it won’t matter if I cannot passionately fuck her.
         I’m not meant to love, anyway.  I’m too psychotic.  I'm too bipolar.  I lie too much, in short.
         But who could believe this mass amount of prevarications that I, the narrator, have spewed in your face. And I notice, if you use larger words for minuscule words the reader is thrown about in confusion.. At the moment you are sitting here pondering what exactly ‘prevarications’ truly means. Other words for this include whoppers, canards, perjures.. Etc. Etc. You most likely are getting the idea of what I mean, but if not I mean LIES.
         I could say I am all of this, but realistically I am not. I am far, far away from this mysterious lawyer who has problems galore with love, security, and depression. I would just love to just tell you who I am and my name but I must protect myself. And now you are sitting there contemplating within your sad, dizzy, little mind ‘protect yourself from what?’. Enemies you see, mothers with purpose of course, fathers who just want some fucking compassion, sons with angst and daughters who aren’t easily persuaded. But even after I tell you this, can you believe me still?
         You see now, there is more.. I could tell you more than just this! Magical stories young feeble teenagers. IMPRESSIONABLE teenage girls who believe everything that is spoon fed to them through extravagant stories told by liars, and cheats, and fakers, and rapists, and stalkers...          Yet, I will not bore you with such trivial nonsense of that subject.
         It's difficult to tell when one is being spun in such a false world.. This is easy to imagine if you have seen a spider spinning it’s prey (i.e. a fly, gnat etc, etc.) until it’s so consumed by thin, sticky string it cannot see any longer, it cannot smell any longer, nor can it move what so ever.. It’s only exposed to this one element(or phenomenon, if you will) it gets so used to it that nothing else seems to matter, and/or everything clashes between so-called-real life, and so-called-imaginary life. .
         Indeed, these fabrications were easy to decipher! Much like a creaking of a tree in the night you confuse with the stranger lurking around your garden, tip toeing through your house, in your new born child’s room, petting the silent breathing baby’s cheek gently. Walking cunningly to your daughters room in which interest is lost like a poor person who has lost interest in a conventional person whom refuses to give him/her money, and now he’s walking swiftly and silently across the hall to your son’s room, where pedophiles dreams come true and when they wake up they run out the window and hide until they are found. Businessmen who are usually slumping smugly behind their cubicle filled with more secrets and lies. Much like the subliminal messages that are decoded in much of the music those hooligans listen to, blaring for all to hear. They don’t care much for other people, and people don’t really care much about them, but they only care for themselves... They’re the ones that buy into corporate America, and their valentine’s day cards. They buy into hallmark trying to make themselves useful in ways no one imagines.
         They’re the mannequins with hidden cameras in their eyes. They are the undercover police in stores watching over everyone and their bias thoughts they have to offer, making sure that nothing gets stolen.
         And now your hand is on your chin and you think about the last paragraph over, pondering over the fact that you have no idea whom “THEY” might be... But oh, do you ever. They are the co-worker who stays quiet and is unseen wishing that no one asks questions because they do not want to tell, or the opposite co-worker who tells all to everyone who has ears, but really they are making everything up because they want to shove it down your tight, concealed throat that they are better than you. They are the ones in the family that are excluding themselves during Christmas time because guilt, greed, and want. They have put themselves into such positions and now they cannot live with themselves because it means an insubstantial chance of confrontation about a certain “you-know-who” about “you-know-what” and they proceed in being thoughtless and uncaring because it makes them more confident and it makes it easier for them to sleep at night, knowing they’ve gotten away with more and more each day until they cannot cope with it any longer and they break down and splatter everything(every provocation) they’ve seemed to get away with while they cutely pulled those sheets tighter over your eyes until your convulsions become meaningless. Until that sticky thin string has coated your face evenly and dulled your senses into nothing but a vegetable-like occupancy. You might as well not even be considered a person.
         So what do you do, really. There’s nothing to do because these fabricators do such a damn good job of pretending everything is alright and pretending like there is nothing wrong at all. Nothing is wrong to them, they’re getting away with it, aren’t they? Right under your nose, and you couldn’t spot it, you neglected the fact that all the signs point to yes and all the answers point to those dulled illusions in your mind about everything you’ve been taught, but the suffocation has lead to a diminishment of your brain cells and nothing seems to make sense. It’s the drugs... It’s the drugs. I am afraid not. Admit it to yourself... You’ve made a mistake, you’re making a mistake, you are a mistake. Well that’s just not kind now, but it’s too bad it’s not far from the emphasized truth you can muster out of your lukewarm lifeless body.          You lack determination to care anymore and now you’re just in it for the breezy ride of lack of self control again. It’s happened before, don’t you remember.. Let’s see if I can refresh your poor hollow memory. You’ve been feeling ill mannered, disgusted to the core, and wanting more . It is so much like peer pressure you’ve suffered for the last 3 years of your lack-luster apparatus. You let people make decisions for you no matter what is seems to be about(i.e. music, boys, colours, clothes, what to do, what to say, how to say it, how you cut your hair, and what brand of notebooks to buy for school). You are never in control of your life, because you know it always resorts to this one position over and over. Are you sick of it... Not completely, you find when other people make decisions for you, you feel better about less stress but also when you do you feel like you are not even a person, so you consider yourself not a person and you are considered not a person, so you treat yourself as if you don’t matter, and this is how it results: Your romantic death with the conclusions of anything far from romantic, the steps toward it are far from romantic, you are far from romantic. You should be a brick wall in a jail shower, you’re only useful when people must brace themselves for an uneasy blow to their self-value.
         “You are being used.” You tell yourself reassuring your anemic little mind that everything will one day be okay. But really, when it all comes down to it, it is true and you know for a fact that it takes one to know one.