God hates me (Chapter 4)Mature

It is dangerous for a man to exchange his feelings for pure logic. In history the world has taught us that much. War, starvation and genocide were situations of logic instead of feelings; the pen of the general on that piece of paper has the tantamount of a hundred thousand lives per letter. Logic sent out the young, the stupid and the poor to be patsies for world peace; feelings were left to be carved on their grave stones because thoughts simply didn't make sense. If the world existed with only logic, men would convince themselves there was no reason to eat or drink and life would cease at that one brilliant thought. Logic, not to be confused, by itself is quite useful. To find a governing principle with a reliable inference it is absolute. It is where you use it as a proxy for the human heart it is simply comparable to a computer raising an infant; it is impossible.

 

            The night that logic was disregarded and emotion took over, Jonathan changed from a level headed man in control of his emotions to a flaccid self loathing lump. He could do nothing more than sit on his couch in a pair of underwear and watch romantic comedies. Even when he slept the TV had to be on. If the movie would end while he was asleep his mind would dive back into darkness; his dreams would play the last few seconds with Sarah over and over until he woke up in a pool of his own tears.

 

            In the mornings Jonathan would wake up, throw on a pair of sweat pants and a long jacket and walk to a coffee shop; this was the only time in the day he would be outside. From there he would go to the video store, grab a handful of movies and proceed to the corner store where he would buy pre-packaged dinners for when he felt hungry; which was not very often. Jonathan did, though, buy a new phone after a few weeks because he was annoyed at the lack of calls he was receiving and the anxiety of the ones he longed for. He never received any calls from Sarah, but his best friend Dallas who was in New York at the time did manage to phone him - Jonathan had left about thirty messages on his machine while he still had a phone - though all he could hear was noise in the background.

 

"Hello, who is this?" Jonathan said.

"It's Dallas; you won't believe what I am doing right now." He said.

"Sarah left me."

"I am in a tree in New York Square Park, the Arcade Fire is playing a sold out concert but I can totally see them from here."

"When are you going to be home, did you hear me?"

"Holy shit you will not believe who just came on stage to sing with them."

"Sarah left me man; I have nobody to talk to."

"David fucking Bowie, that's who."

"I could really use a friend right now."

"I have the greatest present for you when I get home."

"A gun?"

"What?"

"When are you coming home?"

"Oh, I think in two days, I'll come over on Friday I'll see you then."

 

He hung up. Jonathan slumped down on his couch holding his new phone in his hands, debating whether or not to throw it out the window.

 

            On Friday Dallas came to Jonathan's apartment as promised. He was tall, thin and had short blond hair parted to the left. He had gaps in his teeth and his nose was bigger but he was very handsome. His present, nothing he actually needed, was a 60 ounce bottle of rum. Jonathan was actually relieved at the sight of alcohol, it had been a while since he had had any - Sarah didn't like the way he would act while intoxicated - and rum didn't favor too well with Jonathan's stomach.

 

"I'm going to pour myself a little drink, I already finished off my bottle." Dallas said. He came out of the kitchen with a coffee mug and filled it to the top with rum, spilling some on the side of the counter. He walked over to Jonathan's couch sat down, crossed his legs, took a full mouth of rum and swallowed it.

 

"Look man, I know that you are sad, but this is fucking pathetic. Stewing around in you underwear isn't going to help you one bit. And another thing, you smell like shit; your whole apartment smells like someone's arm after getting a cast off. Get a maid, your mom, a prostitute, I don't care, just get this fucking place cleaned. Get your shit together, and change your underwear, I feel like I should give you change; get rid of this homeless guy who took over my best friends body and come back to life man." He said then finished off the rum.

 

"You're bumming me out man, I thought I could get you drunk and it would be good but you have to get your shit together, I can't be here, you are just too sad. Look, OK, I'll come by tomorrow night; you and I we'll go out find a girl for you. By then take a god damn shower, put some clothes on and for Christ's sake burn your underwear."

The End

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