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::All I see is fireworks::

July 4th, 2011. Independence Day.
So America was all “fuck the British, we wanna do our own shit.” And they had wars and slavery and diseases and corruption and a pretty fucked up 200 or so years.
So Christina was all “fuck men get money, I wanna do my own shit.” And she had evictions and restraining orders and illnesses and a pretty fucked up 30 years.
When you’re young, everyone tells you, you can do whatever you want. That you don’t need anybody.
You feel like you can take over the world. Or, if the world is already occupied, you can just steal it, and claim it as yours. (Word to the colonists) Because YOU ARE THE SHIT.
You go through your life like this. This whole “the world is mine” attitude. Take no prisoners. You never need to actually “work out” relationship problems, because behind every Ciroc bottle being served in a dark club at 3am, there’s 50 new dudes waiting in line.
You never actually need to “over-achieve” at work, because, shit, life is SHORT! Work hard, but player harder. And you’re 25 making 45k.So really? Who gonna check me boo? Until, of course. They fire you.
And then you get to this moment. This very moment in life. When all you want to do is grab a blanket, and go lay out in the grass somewhere with some wine…perhaps a little Gouda, and chill with someone to watch the fireworks. And then you realize there is no one.
There’s a difference between “independent” and “alone”. HUGE difference. Just because you can pay your rent, car etc. Just because you can do your own taxes, hair etc. Just because you CAN take care of yourself without anyone else, doesn’t mean you want to be alone.
Hell. Even America is ridiculously dependent on other countries for shit we cant produce here. Like oil.
Penis is my oil.
Wars. Deaths. Financial ruin. Have all resulted from the pursuit of good penis. Errr uhh oil.
And you sit here, taking sips of wine from a box, filing your unemployment claim online, petting your gay cat…crying at your computer.
Because you’re not 25 anymore. Now you’re 30. And there aren’t 50 dudes waiting for you. There’s like 3. And they’re just as bitter and jaded as you are at this point. And you think back to all the fireworks you’ve seen in your life. All those moments, sitting with your family, watching fireworks and being bored as shit.
And you would give anything to rewind the clock and go back to those days. At least then you knew you were loved. And wanted. On a blanket, celebrating the birth of our country.
But you were too good for your family.
Just like you were too good for the last dude. Etc. Etc. Etc.
When. If. I get married. I want fireworks. I want the biggest most beautiful fireworks you could ever imagine. I want people to stop in their cars and watch our fireworks on a random Saturday night. And wonder what the hell are they celebrating?
And I will say, I’m celebrating our independence. The birth of our marriage. And our breaking away from this life of lonely self-centeredness.
But of course. That day….LOL Don’t hold your breath.

Comments

  1. lmao. I adore you. I can already see the fireworks. *cue Katy Perry*

    ReplyDelete
  2. I missed reading your writing!! Fairy tales can come true.. they can happen to you!!!!... and they will..!! xo

    ReplyDelete

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