FRO 2012: BWA

Ode to Monologue

Day by day, my blood pressure is rising. Day by day, my head aches something awful, unbearably so, in fact. The nights grow longer as I find myself awake, incapable of laying to rest my weary head. It has been days, nay, weeks, and I cannot help but stare as my delicate locks of hair continue to slowly drift downward, littering my once clean carpet. The moon is just a torn fingernail, and as the days go by I find myself sinking into a slump more and more; I gaze mindlessly at the television screen, the melancholy hum that is white noise sounding all too familiar. Quite awful winds have passed by, and I know now that the “world” is recovering. Yet, I find myself barricaded in my room once more, my gut expanding exponentially, and I don’t seem to be doing much about it. I recall the days when I was once above all this noise and confusion, when I was soaring ever higher. But, alas, it seems that I have flown much too high. I sit alone and in the dark, my mind drowning in thoughts and my chest ready to explode,  as I acknowledge my strife. For too many days, I have pondered just what it was I was missing from my life. I have never had the pleasure of loving or being loved. May that have been it? Oh no, much too trivial and cliche I mutter under my breath to myself. This pain, this everlasting pain having actually surfaced pretty recently, must be from something more meaningful, less mundane. I almost tear, but my pride prevents me from carrying out the unlawful act and so, mustering all the strength that remains in my legs, I rise. I rise.

I will find the source of my misery, of my new fallacy. For the first time in weeks, I rip away the curtains in my dank room, I want the light to flood in, to bathe me after so long. Well, darn. It’s nighttime. I should have thought that one through. Exasperated and beaten down once more, I slowly, with a morose expression on my face, open the lid of my sputtering laptop. Lo and behold, it stares me in the face. All this suffering, and it was right there all along. What, you, the reader, wonder. What is it that stares back at you? Why, it is none other than the Baruch Blog website. In the darkness, my laptop illuminates my worn face, a dark and evil glow lighting up my room. I dreamt of terrible things, of not having accomplished something very dear and important to me. Wooing the woman that I love? Being the son my decaying parents expect me to be? No. Worse. Writing this menial monologue. Holy hell. For three weeks my insides melted as I knew that I was missing something or, rather, forgot to do something? Jesus Christ, it’s almost finished, and I can’t help but admit that I am getting more and more lethargic as I near finishing this mind-numbing task. My writing is getting sloppier, my mind wanders despite the torment experienced. Kudos, monologue. In all seriousness, you have been in my mind for weeks, and have wasted even more of my time now. Congratulations are in order monologue, for plaguing me and being the burden you have been. Ode to you, you inglorious bastard. I am finished. Carpel tunnel strikes. Kudos once again.