Perpetual Melancholy

Heartbroken by the news of his ex-girlfriend Curt walked up the stairs to his room holding only his Nike running shoes. Such a good girl with such a bright future, so sad. Curt dropped his body onto his bed and let his weight sink into the mattress. With life on the verge and college at an end everything was changing. No one told him it would be this difficult or confusing. Curt needed to take a shower before the aroma of sweat reached his sister and provoked her all to sensitive disorder. Dove soap felt nice but it had no scent other than clean. Dinner needed to be cooked since dad was stuck in traffic and mom was somewhere. Peas weren't his sister's favorite side but she like steak well enough...it was too rare for Curt. Just because school was almost over that doesn't mean homework is optional. Hard to understand literature, long and drawn out equations, useless ideas about religion from a drunk. At lest the career was set thanks to the internship, crappy job. Everyone in the real world seemed so stressed when working. Deadlines are constant and life is scheduled. Time divided into pieces; some for enjoying some for everything else. Everything else gets a bigger piece. Sleep comes naturally to those who are always active. Waking up to bells is annoying but roosters shit everywhere. Chickens lay eggs, breakfast. 2 eggs, toast, orange juice. Keep the eggs scrambled and plain, no disgusting ketchup. The day wasn't melancholy, he was. Sister sleeps too long to be on time for anything. Mom must've been home, the rose bush was void of roses again. Dad left early for work, or escape. Class today is short due to drunk's lack of care. "Life is short so live it" is what he teaches. Just live it, no other direction or explanation. Life is lived in many ways; full, fast, short, closed in, exaggerated, not. One class day = Wednesday. Go home to see what needs to be done. Girlfriend's still in class, memories of ex are sad, sister sleeping, mom. Phone book filled with contacts but no one to call. Call Greg he always picks up. Greg's mom passed away so an hour long conversation kicks up, faking sympathy. Greg was always a prick, poor Greg. Does prick-ness become extinct when family is lost? Does who is lost matter? Greg is a prick if his creepy uncle dies, but his mom was nice, poor Greg. Lunch is a diversion and a necessity. Dad's back early, time for music. Music hides the loud voices and the anger. Mom's fault but not under her control. She lost her sister Rose, the bush stays void. Debbie got that city job, she'll be so well off, Curt could've been there too...he left her, heartbroken.