Many ways to interpret- the story that's told a hundred

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
just exploring where the first sentence of a thought can lead me. then i had a sudden urge to discover, where can other people read this?

Submitted: April 01, 2016

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Submitted: April 01, 2016

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I would’ve disregarded any forms of selflessness the moment I walked through that door. What I saw on his face, was only his intent. He was shallow, saw no further than the picture in front of him. I don’t care for people like him, because he doesn’t care about anything, so what could hurt him that would actually affect his life? Yes, I used him, why not? He would only care anyway if he was told the blatant truth. Which sucks for him, because it shows how oblivious he is. If I were him, I would’ve felt the disconnection, maybe the abuse that reflects through my actions of apparent friendliness. Either way, I wouldn’t have invested any of my attention into someone that turns to me merely when it suits them. He was one who looks as far as searching for what satisfies himself. What makes himself feel whole and comfortable, what gives him enough to allow the world to slide out of his peripheral view. This is not a good thing, but does it justify who I am to him?
Now days it really doesn’t take much to forget what’s beyond where you are. Take it from someone who already was sucked into the indulgent, worthless and wasted ways of one who lives just to enjoy themselves. I don’t know what it was that enlightened me of this eagle eye perspective, all I know it’s a powerful source that hot wires all my actions to revolve around it.  
So yes I’ve always been selfish, and he copped the brunt of it. By receiving the backwash of my soul, he was there for me and only to the extent I allowed it. He doesn’t know how much he was there for me, soaking up all my boredom, rejuvenating a section of my potential for tomorrow, but he was, and that was all he ever was to me. Yet he was satisfied to do so, the road of our friendship, a long and endless cloud of mist with no direction but only one purpose; to satisfy our immediate time, in whatever ways that occurred to each individual. 


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