miércoles, 6 de enero de 2010

The Neurotic

Interior. Night.

The neurotic gets out of bed. It´s raining. It´s always raining.

Goes downstairs, bottle of water, upstairs, bed.

A thin thread of water runs through the side of his mouth because of the position he´s in.

And that´s his life, he thinks, taking shit because of the position he mantains and complaining about it while, of course, not doing anything to remediate it because that would be too big a burden to bear. The weight of personal responsibility would surely crush him dared he try and get his life in order.

But that´s the life of the neurotic. He dreams, he plans, he seeks perfection in every last detail of his carefully engineered plot.

And then he waits.

For the plan to materialize.

4 comentarios:

Anya dijo...

sounds familiar... may be TOO familiar

pd: me sacaste una sonora carcajada con tu comentario en mi último post :)
abrazo (y voluntad, que al parecer sin eso los planes no funcionan...)

Facundo dijo...

Me pasó exactamente igual que a Aluh. Eso no da... Pero te banco chabón, eso sí.

Anónimo dijo...

No pains, no gains..........................

DANA dijo...

Hola :)