Beeping

There’s a persistent beeping coming from the oven in my kitchen. Its repetition is driving me into an incredible pit of angst.

Last night I asked a legitimate question and was answered by, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I tried to justify my question, minimize its stupidity, but the question was raw and completely intended.

I turned up Animal Collective on my iTunes to an ear-piercing drone, but it’s choking out the persistent beeping.

I heard one, two, three. Louder.

We made plans before he left. There was undeniably something interesting. He left many days ago. I’m now undeniably forgotten.

One more.

“Seriously.”
“Seriously what?”
“I wasn’t drunk.”

I’m constantly fighting this battle with the mundane.

The beeping is competing with my beats.

I hate partiality.

I’m turning the little black knob again. Louder. More sound to drown out sound.

It’s disgusting. It’s absolutely disgusting how long you can spend next to someone and have no idea how their mind could correlate with yours. Sometimes I’m awfully pretentious, typically driven by a fear of rejection. Sometimes getting closer is only a matter of letting vulnerability seep through. This is probably the closest I’ll ever get, and it’s absolutely disgusting.

My music is winning, but pretty soon the beat will fade and I’ll hear that constant reminder of the mundane.