Skip to main content

brain damage

there's someone in my head, but it's not me.

and it kinda feels good.

I've had a sort of realization. That beautiful places exist, with beautiful people. And I can have my mind blown in the most amazing way. I have now tried every drug I wanted to, now it's just time to refine my highs and lows. and only the best environments will do. Windswept cliffs with wave-cut caves in which we blast pink Floyd into the natural surround sound of sedimentary sand and ocean pebbles. Forgetting time, only told by the rising of the swirling tides and the setting of the western sun in a bed of water. where nothing mattered but the basics. that we had food in our stomachs and shelter from the wind, because our hearts were full of the freedom of nature, bursting like balloons, floating through the forest trails. swiftly we ran through knotted ground, down rivers that streamed through the trees, upon trees upon trees. red dirt made from wood upon wood. cool green shadows shiver through trunks, slither over roots. ancient forests dance to the rhythm of the wind. I ran my fingers over melting bark, moss carpeted and smooth. i planted myself in crystal sands and turned my leaves toward the sun and grew to the beat of the waves dragging their fingers across the beach. i carved faces into the ground smiling up at me with gaping eyes.
I did alot more. But mostly I had the time of my life.

Comments

pihzaz said…
you were like a little fairy girl with a slug at the end of your wand. two timin timmy

!!!!!

Popular posts from this blog

neighborhood nights

I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...

zip.

I dread human contact. I absolutely hate it. I hate having to think of something to say, hate having to feign interest and sympathy. It's a stressful situation and I don't even know why. I guess it's the culmination of all my antisocial tendencies over the years. Once you get into a habit it gets harder and harder to change as time goes by. I've always been the shy one, the quiet one. The exception is my friends. I'm talkative and at ease with the people I like. I love my friends and I love having friends, but I dread making them. It's like it's too much effort to be worth it. All the awkward getting to know eachothers and stuff, I'd rather just avoid it completely. But it's getting me into trouble. People think I'm arrogant, too good to talk to them. Or that I hate them. Such is the case with my mother. She's been living at her parent's house, and so I rarely see her. That suited me fine, because less interactions the better. So whenever...

Home

I looked back at blog entries, and even though the subject matter was less than pleasant to be reminded of, it was still good, I'm glad I have written reminders so I have points of reference to gauge my growth. And I've come far. I often feel like I've had three stages in my life. The first was with Brent, and though I was a newborn in love's eyes, I soon grew to an extremely old age. My heart was always cracked and my spirit became dulled. I became clogged with darkness, became tired and dragged myself through the days. But I never stopped. I stubbornly sacrificed myself each day for someone whom I thought it was going to help. I was wrong. The first day of my second stage was the day I stopped caring about him and finally focused on myself. I was free, and I was drunk with it. Too drunk. I dove into something that made me happy, too quick. I soon realized there were other ways to get hurt. this stage wasn't that defining, though I began to learn to take things as ...