Young and Dumb

Ah, fuck me. I inhale too hard and fast, scald my throat with hot smoke. Always goes this way when I’m anxious, puffing and puffing on my cigarette hardly breaking to exhale. I just want to pull as much into my body as possible, feel that weird sense of calm spreading ‘til I’m a bit numbed.

My whole life seems to revolve around obtaining numbness. A lonely tongue-tied mother-fucker like me? I hate to think my own thoughts. Stuff ‘em into the void so I can keep living young and dumb. If the world sees a greasy-haired slacker failing his classes it’s beyond me.

I’ve got something a lot closer to happiness than most people, anyway.

The butt sizzles on the wet pavement. Stomp that fucker out and straighten my collar. “It’s time,” I think ominously, and laugh in my head. Laugh pretty hard. Maybe a real snigger slips out ‘cause some other lost cause is staring across the courtyard, I mean really STARING at me like I’m out of my mind.

I’m numb enough now to play myself as a character. I put on a smirk and walk.

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