I see her almost every morning on my way to work. Her pale dirty blond hair undone and unkept, her large black glasses awkardly perched on her nose, her right arm extended with a closed fist and thumb sticking out, in hopes of getting a ride. She is dressed in old tattered clothing, her unextended hand is always clutching a cigarette. And everyday, as I pass, she stares at me with such a horribly dissapointed and contemptuous look that I have to look away.

About two months ago I was at work stairing out at the road in front of the building. The mysterious hitchiking lady was being ordered to walk a strait line by some of our local friendly law enforcement agents (sarcasm), which she failed miserably. And as I watched her take a breathelizer (sp?) test, I overheard some coworkers saying that she had already lost her license to dwi. They loaded her up, taking her away so that the public wouldn’t have to witness a lost cause. A life spent pursuing a quick fix.

I often see her in the supermarket, wandering and meandering about, stopping to peruse through items of interest. Never paying attention to people surrounding her. Never looking up at the faces around her. Avoiding interaction, or maybe avoiding critisism, or maybe just enjoying her life as a recluse. I don’t know.

trickling through the grate like soft petals falling from a tree of green flowers, the water slowly collects in to drops and falls to the hard concrete floor below. slowly beginning its descent on the floors incline, building speed as it goes, the sun shines down and I catch a quick reflection from the droplet. Like that sharp beam of light that shoots from a perfectly cut diamond.
it builds speed, blending in with other water drops, slowly converging and becoming a giant mass of moisture that, at one time, was just floating in the atmosphere, in a cloud somewhere on the other side of the world.

man, who lets me get away with writing this stuff?

I was at fred meyer's this morning, picking up some stuff for work when I saw my friends mom. I really hate talking to my friend's moms, because really, what the hell do you say to there mom? "Um, hi, I know your son. You must be his mom." How awkward is that?

Anyways, she zero'd in on my like they always do. And while I was being riddled with a barrage of questions, somehow, even though my mind was a mile away, I managed to answer them. I was focusing every bit of attention not on her, but on finding a way out, until she said something that disturbed me very, very much.

"so, your leaving this month for college right?"
"yep, the twenty seventh"
"moving to the big city, eh?"
"yep"
"just remember, when you are driving in the middle of the city, always keep your windows up and your doors locked. There are faggets everywhere."

My god, how fucking ignorant can you be? I am not gay, but why the hell would I care if anyone else is? They are people too, just like me and you. God damn it, I thought I was done being pissed off, but I'm not. And the sad thing is, I pretended like she didn't say anything bad. Being the non-confrontational and passive person that I am, I blew it off. And also, considering this may be my last time ever seeing her, I didn't want to leave on a bad note.

So, that was that. I managed to float through a situation where my opinion was vehemently opposite of the other person, and I did nothing. Damn it. Damn it.

Acting as if he hadn’t seen a single thing, the man in the blue hat and grey sweater kept walking. Behind, walking the opposite direction, was a man in a black shirt and blue sweatpants. In his left hand was a gun, in his right hand a letter, on his sleeve was his anger. His face was contorted, like a man who has seen a million deaths but has now lost a lover, bringing a brutal reality to all the other loss he has witnessed. His hair is mussed, his shoes untied, his face unshaven.

Following this man, we see him walk in to a brown building with a stone walkway and brown deck. Several faces turn toward him, and several faces turn away in dismissal. Ignoring for sake of sanity. A retreat to normalcy, or maybe a dependancy and devotion to a calm orderly and normal day, he is ignored and blown off.

This is his day of murder, this is his day of revenge, this is his day to ruin a normal world.