hudson bound amtrak inspired comedy
stepping on the amtrak bound for hudson, i feel something rising within me. anxiety? intense displeasure at the idea of spending an entire day with my coworkers whilst not being paid to be nice to them?
i am unfulfilled with the gluttonous sorrow that lives within me, with the misplaced joy, with the searching for feeling in moments that are inherently emotionless. i am, however, fully satiated at the thought of being on the roof of this train. its speed and the rain, the view of this body of water with the mountains framing it. i would like to be one with the homes stacked along the mountains — is there room in the rocky formation for me? do you think my manager would notice if i slipped through the hinge of the corridor and snuck onto this roof, polar express style? can i smoke a cigarette up there?
unfulfilled with the tangibles, satiated by the fiction of it all. living in imagination — what have i exaggerated to make myself sound less pathetic? did you really reach for my hand under the table and if/when you did, did you also feel the ripple in the spacetime continuum that was most definitely caused by our hyper-magnetic connection that would most definitely stop the planet from spinning in the manner we have grown accustomed to if we simply allowed ourselves to give in to this previously mentioned hyper-magnetic connection. but alas, i am unfulfilled by the tangible. even if your hand had in fact grazed mine under the table, the realization that the world would not begin to crumble down around us makes me sad. i could even pout about it. was our sex not like buffy and spike’s? was the house not crumbling down around us from the sheer force of our intimacy? my memory is foggy, but i do recall this happening.
does joy only exist for me in exaggerated moments that live inside my imagination? am i capable of opening myself up to love without draining it of its energy? i am writing my life to death. i will monologue this tale as i lower the casket down, hoping that the vampire blood awakens me and i rise to live on forevermore. one measly human lifetime is not long enough for the yearning inside me. eternal damnation sounds much more necessary.
i will carry on listening to the 1997 hercules original motion picture soundtrack now. i know you are dizzy from the spinning inside my void-filled imagination. and also, i am rather tired of this middle-aged white woman in capris beside me watching me type all of this.
to do list:
stop thinking you live in a fictional romance
stop watching buffy the vampire slayer and comparing yourself to a vampire who fought to get his soul back no matter how sexy and loveable he is
stop forgetting your anxiety pills at home