I hate that I can't help anyone. I hate that my best friends bike got stolen and I hate that its probobly because that person was even poorer, even more down and out than my best friend. I hate myself and I hate my room, I have so much stuff. All of the bleeding fingers across seas stitching together 24 stuffed animals now on a one way trip to sit decomposing in a landfil, my carbon footprint as large as my shame. My stuff, my so much stuff. Half a world away someone with bare feet are payed a few cents to make one of my 16 pairs of shoes, I hate my stuff and I hate myself.
My fat neighboorhood, this fat town, and the fat city nextdoor and children walking out of 711 with slupries bigger than their heads. Mothers on maury with their obese babies, my mother on the couch mocking the mothers on maury and eating Oreos. The signs on the highway telling me to eat, to eat more, to eat faster, and for less. Their seems to be a hiden panic in the masses, some unspoken message that their just isn't ever enough food. But I never sat in a 50 minute class without the sound of crinkling dorito bags and the smell of sugared down coffee. I know someone is starving and I can't finish my dinner, I hate myself. I know someone is starving and the person next to me at ihop is eatng chicken and waffles with a side of pancakes, I hate america.
My country didn't give me a chance. My identity theft, my inability to establish myself in my own society without suffering the consequences of being labled a financial delinquant. Other 22 year olds have flat screen televisions, a trip to vegas, a drug habit to show for their financial ruin, I just have my bad luck. Just an easy name, maybe a bank teller or a cleaver bum rummaging through my trash, someone who wanted the American Dream. Someone who bought furnature, a cell phone, a computer, someone who's heart beats everytime they hear sirens.
Everything is shit and I'm suppose to care about making a salary and buying a home. I fall in love with people who turn into addicts, head cases, angry, and miserable souls and I am suppose to just pretend I don't notice the demise of the people around me? Pretend getting a 9-5 job, saving up money for a home, getting married, and reproducing will what? Distract me? Make me happy? And I am suppose to want money?
In america everything is a comidity, being fat is a comidity. Their is a new reality television show about a man who likes bigger women. The plumper she is the closer she is to her fairy tale marriage. Fetish is comidity. Their are television shows about good looking men and woman eating bugs and bull testicals, and people sit in their dark livingrooms and cum in their pants. People I know have worked in porn shops, my friend purchased a pocket pussy, and in some states 16 year olds are allowed to strip but have a stage curfew of 11pm. I lost my virginity a week before my 16th birthday, have worn high heels that damaged my feet, and wore my almost naked body for halloween all through high school. America the manifestation of the dark corners and quiet things no one ever knows about anything Sex. America does not hold back, and I hate myself.
Heart disease is the number one killer in america and you cant escape television ads, bilboards, radio commercials, popups, website sponsors, little league jersys, the superbowl, and other sponsored american pastimes that all say the same thing: "stay active, consume small amount of calories from nutrient rich sources like fruits, vegtables, and whole grains, refrain from too much alcohol, and engage in stress relieving practices like meditating." Oh wait..."Dunkin runs on America, Have it Your Way, Think Outside the Bun, Pizza Hut Open Late Night, Budwiser, Corrs, The New Bud Light Lime......" Right, that's the message. Keep dying america.
