i'm craving for a marlboro red, but i'm having a cigar from carmel instead. it's funny how sometimes you think you know yourself and then something lets themselves in and you learn something more. after twenty five years you would think that you would know more about yourself to the point that you could write a book about it. but if people actually started writing about their own episodes, they would learn that they are nowhere near where they want to be. and that they can only pray that they're headed in the right direction. i guess in a way we're all searching for something. something that will make us understand everything. something that will help us fill the gaps. but in some way, i think everything is complete, and it's our attempt at filling in the missing gaps that fools us to think that there are indeed gaps. i cleaned out my closet last weekend and i'm planning to donate them. it's time to give back and let someone else score a really cool shirt. i'm sure that BR shirt didn't think it would end up in a salvation army's clothes rack. i'm sure he was thinking that he would end up in a loft hanging out with kenneth and ralph. and that he would end up at a party of overpaid yuppies drinking crown and cokes while listening to louie prima songs. that he would sometimes sleep with victoria on a hardwood floor learning more about her secrets. he could never imagine that one day, he would end up in a garbage bag full of unwanted clothes and divorced socks, headed to the unknown. so i wonder what he'll be thinking when he's hanging out with some old timers who smell like moth balls and cheap liquor. what the fuck did i do. i didn't change. all these weathered bodies trying him on, wondering what a fancy shirt is doing at a place like this. but maybe someone will find him and he would fill their gap. because they were looking for something. and maybe he would be that something they've been looking for, and they'll wonder why somebody would throw away this beautiful shirt.
maybe.
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