Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > All the Cigarettes
When you reach for something, 'cause you're pathetic.
9 reviewsDon't ever buy GPC - they taste like you crawled up in the La Brea Tar Pits and died next to a saber tooth tiger.
5Insightful
He arrived 15 minutes early. The building was a nondescript brick number half way across town. He shut off the car but was unable to make a move to open the door. He felt weird. His palms were starting to sweat and his lungs gulped for air. He pushed the lighter in on the dash and waited. He heard the familiar pop which snapped him back to the moment. He placed the hot end of the lighter on the end of the smoke between his lips and breathed in.
Am I really crazy?
Not just anyone went to therapy. No one in his family ever went to therapy. Seeing a psychologist was like broadcasting to everyone you knew that you had problems you couldn't deal with on your own. How fucking pathetic, he thought.
The small, confined space was quickly filling with the noxious smoke. He wondered if anyone every asphyxiated themselves with cigarette smoke alone.
The minutes slipped by and he wondered if he just shouldn't turn the car back on and go to a liquor store instead. That was good therapy right there. But he knew there would be repercussions if he didn't show up. He opened the car door.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The t.v. played away in the background. He wondered if the neighbors could hear the porno through the thin plaster walls - although, if they did, he didn't much care. It was another exciting Saturday night for him: booze and a date with his right hand.
He kicked a pile of laundry off the end of the bed and stared mindlessly at the t.v. as some chick with black hair and real tits took on two rocker-looking dudes at once. It took a lot for porn to actually do something for him. He watched it more on a research or observational level than on a, it's-going-to-get-me-off level. But since the tour was over and he had nothing better to be doing, he thought he might give the DVD he'd found on the bus a whirl.
Maybe he'd had too much vodka, he thought. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled a cigarette from the pack. He glanced over at the screen while he held the flame below the smoke and inhaled. The woman on the screen was moaning, "Ooo yeah that's it! Fuck me with your big cock!" He snickered as he thought about how fake it was and how his cock was bigger than the porn star's.
He exhaled. The smoke began to fill the small room. He let the cigarette hang from his lips. The people on the screen were pretending to be having a good time. That's exactly what he was doing. Pretending.
Am I really crazy?
Not just anyone went to therapy. No one in his family ever went to therapy. Seeing a psychologist was like broadcasting to everyone you knew that you had problems you couldn't deal with on your own. How fucking pathetic, he thought.
The small, confined space was quickly filling with the noxious smoke. He wondered if anyone every asphyxiated themselves with cigarette smoke alone.
The minutes slipped by and he wondered if he just shouldn't turn the car back on and go to a liquor store instead. That was good therapy right there. But he knew there would be repercussions if he didn't show up. He opened the car door.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The t.v. played away in the background. He wondered if the neighbors could hear the porno through the thin plaster walls - although, if they did, he didn't much care. It was another exciting Saturday night for him: booze and a date with his right hand.
He kicked a pile of laundry off the end of the bed and stared mindlessly at the t.v. as some chick with black hair and real tits took on two rocker-looking dudes at once. It took a lot for porn to actually do something for him. He watched it more on a research or observational level than on a, it's-going-to-get-me-off level. But since the tour was over and he had nothing better to be doing, he thought he might give the DVD he'd found on the bus a whirl.
Maybe he'd had too much vodka, he thought. He reached over to the nightstand and pulled a cigarette from the pack. He glanced over at the screen while he held the flame below the smoke and inhaled. The woman on the screen was moaning, "Ooo yeah that's it! Fuck me with your big cock!" He snickered as he thought about how fake it was and how his cock was bigger than the porn star's.
He exhaled. The smoke began to fill the small room. He let the cigarette hang from his lips. The people on the screen were pretending to be having a good time. That's exactly what he was doing. Pretending.
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