That's my life now, putting anyone who has anything down. It's sad. It makes me look pathetic. But not as pathetic as a pilot! Those douche bags walk around like heroes!! Can you believe that? You sit in a seat and fiddle a joystick...? Hero? Ha!! I feel more endangered in a New York City taxi. But those drivers aren't heroes.... They're assholes. "Hey boss you need taxi?" "I take you no problem". 20 minutes later, I'm forking 60 bucks out of my wallet and passing it with my sweaty, clammy hand to Aladdin's step brother. You took me 5 blocks!!!! No matter what, I'd take a egotistical pilot and terrorist raised taxi driver over any asian bus company. Never have I ever found peace with the idea of genocide than when I let those rice cakes take me on a 8 hour bus ride. Every employee speaks perfect English until you have a complaint.... Then they turn into these cynical, arrogant, Down syndrome Mr. Chows. Stop squinting.
I'm still on this plane. There is a game I play every time I fly. I scope out the other passengers. I'm looking for 2 exact types of people....1...Those that look like they are planning a hi-jack after rushing the cock pit. I find them. And I plan my own attack on them. Usually a different finishing move for each of those kamikaze faggots. 2.... All the intelligent travelers. You know.... The ones that don't complicate every little thing!! Why crowd the damn aisle as soon as we stop the plane??? God I really hate people as a whole. Me, me, me, me, me. That's how people think. So I find the smart ones. Who don't stuff the overhead bin with a bag that clearly should have been checked. Me and the ones with common sense just form this bond. We look at each other when one of the half minded other travelers act retarded and smirk. Boom friendship. It's such a fake friendship tho. It last for a few hours without even saying a word to each other.
Funny thing... Last time I was on a plane, it was with the girl I was sure I would marry. I carried that ring with me on the plane too. We went to New York then clear out to utah. Rode horses, went to my favorite "getaway" bear lake, even sat at the top of the tallest roller coaster in town. But none of those were the right place to pop down on a knee and ask that two timing devil to make me miserable the rest of my life. Guess I better thank god.
Funny thing about the heart.... It controls the mind. It literally dictates your emotions. Determines your desire. And decides what you let in and keep out. My heart just hates. It's full of it. Full of hate, distrust, and hopelessness. And all this negativity burrows my good intentions. Shadows my deepest desires of happiness.
So how do I release hatred?
I stab her in the heart with a salty ice pick.
Mail him a box of cancer. Bad cancer.
Pray their kids are ugly.
And crash this plane into their house.
No.
None of that.
I write.
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