Homely for the holidays

So I look around the apartment that I haven't cleaned in about a year, the dirty clothes and other detritus of my slovenly lifestyle, and I kinda wonder if I might be a little depressed.

Spent three whole days in bed last week.

I can't help but notice that it's taking more than the usual effort to man up and get things done lately.

'Course, it could be some physical ailment.

Haven't really been in a position to afford a doctor visit in about three years.

And I know I need to get my teeth looked at.

Hopefully I can snap myself out of it by spring.

Got too much shit that needs to get done, and nobody else is going to do it.


Which is as it should be I suppose.

I find I kinda prefer the honesty of knowing that there's nobody out there.
(As opposed to the fiction of friends and social support structures.)

I had a funny thought today as I was trying to figure out who to task with burying me when I die (assuming I outlive the two remaining people I trust to dispose of me properly).
See, being alone, I don't have to decorate for the holidays.
Don't have to take time off, or find people to cover my shifts (or people to cover for the people who say they're going to cover for my shifts)
Don't have to deal with every shiesty underling who wants to use my absence to run some sort of scam on me at work, or try to fuck up my life at home.

I don't have to deal with any of that this year.

Just put my head down and quietly pray that the holidays end quickly...

That way I can stop feigning cheer and good will towards my fellow humans and get back to being my usual subhuman self.

Just another hairy, fleshy cog in the machine.

Definitely a tool, possibly even the right one for the job.


Payday on the 1st and 15th.

Rent in the mail on the 25th.

Groceries on the 5th and 18th.

Family birthdays in the late spring.

Vehicle registration in the summer.

Try to take a vacation in the fall.
(and don't even acknowledge when I end up working through it for the 14th year in a row)

Rise.

Rinse.

Repeat.



A ball bearing doesn't have to worry about capricious human interaction.

A machine need never concern itself with fickle emotion or trying to read non-verbal cues.

Networks weaken, disconnection makes me strong.

Life means nothing, meaninglessness gives me power.

Completely expendable.

You will never touch me.

Superior in my inferiority.

As ugly as I need to be.



Insignificance makes me free.

For you

Yes, the poems are for you...

Well, for me and for you.

At least some of them...


The stories too.


It may not seem it, but I've never forgotten.


Just stepped aside because that was what you required.