I'm Beginning to Hate Cliches

they were like the white flakes you left on your bed only noticeable when you use your darker sheets. like the nasty, although sometimes dried already, sticky stuff that your eyes seem to make much of depending on the choice of intoxication you had the night before. like that big intermingling of yellow and green that has turned into a gumlike ball, which when you finally were able to get out your nose, you realize you breathe easier already. you know these nastiness could be easily cleaned up. that 70 percent rubbing alcohol does its job. that’s why you never mistook it for another substance, the other alcohol. when things do their specific jobs, you don’t mistake one for the other.
yep, sad hormones are only brain chemicals. all emotions are chemically induced. yup, natural brain chemicals. but, since they’re your chemicals, you might just have a control over them. it is, after all, your brain. psycho-inactive.
there is no need to manipulate emotions. rage starts wars. people only obey their rages. a love, that even without which,  still life goes on just as happy as though it was still there.
i would have loved to dance with you. who knows? there might be indeed somewhere else where chances are given again. i will take you where my autism hides, and perhaps you would no longer be one of them who looks, although yes with fascination but still with a distance that tells of a quasi-apathy, and when you behold the world as i do, you, too, would realize why i love it so much.
the leaves are incessantly asking, "when again?" i answered, "might be never again . . . " because you see, our story must have ended already somewhere, some time ago. perhaps you forgot that you preferred that i wake up from my delusions of you and me, that you worded out contempt for my naivety. a woman. you needed a woman, and i preferred to stay in a fantasy where people never grow old. but we grow up. it’s different. my tantrums, you would realize, hold more depth than some of your people’s change-the-world propagandas.
i will take you there. no, not again. you haven’t been there yet. first times always risk one getting stuck. wait . . . i think there was a moment there . . .
"you want to go see them close?"
"no, let’s stay here . . . if we go there, they’ll instead be the ones looking at us."
and i was not being paranoid then. dammit. we already had moments even then.