Analyzing Albert, The Written Word

Analyzing Albert III

0 Comments 08 October 2011

III

I used to stand at the baggage claim for hours. Waiting. Watching. Trying to pick my next escape. If I liked someone, or they seemed remotely interesting I would try to match their luggage to the person then make my move. I don’t do that anymore. I didn’t like the certain so called ‘destiny’ aspect of it. I wanted the whole process to be completely organic. If I wanted to play God I would have just stayed home and masturbated all day.

Now I walk in, make my way to the front of the herd and pick the first bag I see. The entire ride home I listen to the local oldies station and think about old TV shows that I used to watch. I think about all the characters that I used to want to be. I think about how I used to make decisions in my life based on how those characters might act in a certain situation. Then I get depressed and realize its no wonder why I’m at where I am. That’s what they call rock bottom. Usually around that time I want to veer

the car into on-coming traffic and do myself, and society in general, a favor. Eventually I get home and the excitement begins.

I race into the parking spot barely letting the car come to a stop before throwing it into park. I grab the suitcase from the backseat make my way up the walk rushing to the bedroom.

There’s a rush of emotions when I open the suitcase for the very first time. Its very similar to the feeling kids get when they open presents at Christmas except moreso. At least those kids have youth to look forward to. An entire life spreads out before me. I rifle through everything neatly putting this persons life into all the cookie-cutter categories I’ve already defined in my mind. Where they work, who they know, how they take their eggs, if they’re married, how old they are, if they sleep on they’re left side or right, left-handed or right. Right handed people always pack their shirts on the right and the right side of their shoelaces is always a bit longer than the left.

I try to understand every person. But not just understand them, I want to understand those deep, dark thoughts hidden in the bowels of their mind. The sick stuff. The types of feelings that you only think about for a split second every once and awhile then neatly tuck them away again. And even if you wanted to communicate it to somebody you’d never be able to find the right words to make yourself not look like a creep. But the thing is I get these emotions and that’s where the bond begins. I understand they exist in all of us. As I walk down the street everyday I feel this deep, almost primal, connection to everyone I see. I have no idea what they’re feeling, just that their feeling it. I feel it too, and that’s why I do what I do.

- who has written 511 posts on The Shade.


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