Finally, I feel…

Finally, I feel like I got something worth writing about every since I started working again. Well, it seems things are going pretty good. At least, from the angle that we’ve come to take things. There are times at work where I feel things gets pretty hectic. One after another customers walk in through the door, next thing you know there’s a line of tickets staring into our faces. I take my time, efficiently. I see how things are best done to keep everything moving slowly, steadily, so that we could rid ourselves of any of the chances of possibly getting tangled in a web of mistakes and errors in the process. But along the way something slips beneath the faults as our desperate grasp reaches out into mid-air.

Beto, by far one of the best workers there so much respect has he earned from the owners of the parlor. That he’s even let-up to run over them with brutal apprehensions. Of course, no one likes to take the blame for feeling guilty of our actions. It’s almost a thing virile and profound disgust, even more disgusting that seeing a stack of dirty kitchenware in the stain-less steel sink. They avert with every breath and glance to not utter a mention of blame, or anything merely suggesting of apprehension onto their faults.

Of course, not many think like that. Of course not, I believe that by putting off their mistake they feel like they’ve took precaution against harming their public image vain. How could a public organism go on by administering a fatal dose against their only veil of guileless carnage-flesh.

Public image is in their favor. Everything will be passed on through word of mouth. Fixed to interpretation.

I feel like I’m a different man, I’m a man that likes to face the consequence of my time. Feel what it is to know the real essence of next. Next to sequence.

I feel toughen out by pulling back and letting my self sink in a deluge of frightfulness. I feel this is the right vain, I don’t know exactly what is meant by dignity when I read it. But I think I’ve become familiar through this. By ultimately wanting to sacrifice some social construct principle but moreover, for a principle written in humanity. Inside the instinct of what it means to be human.

Yeah, I can’t take them anymore. I can’t take the foolishness of what it pretends to be. To be loving, to be caring. They all left once and now I’m crippled by the long cold nights that I have no care for their advances in gestures, their poor efforts. Always suggesting things. Things that may lead to their comfort, simply, by the tatters of my voice.

I have no wonder or marvel for them anymore. Perhaps it was once, as a kid when I thought it was completly amazing to see them. All of them, just to see them once for their spark in their eyes. Whatever they brought home it was a complete joy that overwhelmed me. That brought me sky-high.

Nothing was behind a veil. Every thing simmered in the light with such great splendor. There was nothing else I could compare it to. I just absorbed it all at once. The beauty of it. I was entrapped as much as I was foolish to witness it. In its dynamic simple complexity.

But now, that’s all left behind. I find all of them suspicious. I can’t let my self come back to them for one second, for fears that they might try to just as the callous inbred would, the second I’d dropped my guards down. This is the price I suffer for these years that cost me so much bitter loneliness. The transformation has bind me against the shadows on the walls. As prolonged nights dial the voices of long forgotten ghosts..

I feel too much to let set it all lose into the wild again. I’ve tamed my fire here at the light house. Only one, to one that it guides with fierce blinding light.

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