**warning** the below entry is rated R due to adult language and subject matter. I do not recommend reading on is you are uncomfortable with cursing or drugs. Recent awful events in my life have been caused by drugs and alcohol and after one more event piled on top, I had to vent my thoughts. I guess I needed to give drugs a swift kick where it hurts- verbally.
what the fuck!
something is seriously wrong with this whole picture. it aint right it just pain and fucking simple aint right
now dont get me wrong, i love chemistry and biology and all the sciences, but they are not supposed to kick you in the ass
why the hell were we made with nicotine receptors for example? and why does this stuff mess with our brains no- no- not our brains- out whole fucking life! everything - it takes away every ounce of common sense we once had. no street smarts, no book smarts, and god knows, no people smarts. you dont know how to treat friends, you lose the ability to even understand what the word friend means- and family- shit- not even on the radar- unless that is, they are your dough. and then - the worst thing about it, is you depend on them- but not like a normal human being- you hate them. and you depend on that hate, because they fuel your habit- but you hate that they do and hate that they dont know, or hate that they do and dont do anything about it- and hate yourself for letting it all happen- or hate yourself for not stopping it.
but how do you stop fucking yourself up
how do you do it
i cant even count on one hand anymore how many people have died trying to figure that out- died. done. gone.
and everyone is fucking up everyone else around them so they dont look like they're so fucked up themselves. its the only way to wake up in the morning, if you level the paying field. but you cant sleep at night. you cant even feel comfortable in your own skin anymore cause you are fucking up peoples lives- you are stealing from them- you're taking a beautiful thing and saying, well, i messed up mine- so you cant have yours either. so fuck me
this is not a storybook- or a fairy tale- there is no happy ending. and whats worse is there is no resigned sad ending either- because there is no fucking ending.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
musical musings
within most every second of the day my body and mind are bombarded by thousands of sensations and stimulation of the good and bad. it has recently hit me that that same phenomenom applies to my heart- my soul.
its not that I wish to spend hours musing on the complexities of all this, or the immense simplicity- just needed to say it out loud. sometimes you have to do that.
your mind knows that you grow up, and your reflection tells the same story, but its hard to convince your heart that it has moved on, when everything that it is encountering has held residency some 6 years earlier.
and i am also baffled by the unproportionate years of life that we spend here. Simply put, we spend about 1/8 of our lives as children and the remaining 7/8 as adults. Who came up with that? Explain it.
And what does one do when they are daily tormented by the wanderlust to get up and get out and the utter longing to finally feel at home?
its not that I wish to spend hours musing on the complexities of all this, or the immense simplicity- just needed to say it out loud. sometimes you have to do that.
your mind knows that you grow up, and your reflection tells the same story, but its hard to convince your heart that it has moved on, when everything that it is encountering has held residency some 6 years earlier.
and i am also baffled by the unproportionate years of life that we spend here. Simply put, we spend about 1/8 of our lives as children and the remaining 7/8 as adults. Who came up with that? Explain it.
And what does one do when they are daily tormented by the wanderlust to get up and get out and the utter longing to finally feel at home?
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Dance...
Dance when you're broken apart
Dance if you've torn the bandage off
Dance in the middle of the fighting
Dance in your blood
Dance when you're perfectly free
Dance if you've torn the bandage off
Dance in the middle of the fighting
Dance in your blood
Dance when you're perfectly free
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Broken Mirror
There are pieces of me
My goodness within
They are scattered, they are shattered and windblown
But I'm going to find me
Are you expecting the world
I can't even give you an island
Perhaps I am overthinking you
And all you want are the desires of my heart
Its time to stop
Carrying other people's burdens
Their hurt, their grief, their pain
Its time you let me care for you
My goodness within
They are scattered, they are shattered and windblown
But I'm going to find me
Are you expecting the world
I can't even give you an island
Perhaps I am overthinking you
And all you want are the desires of my heart
Its time to stop
Carrying other people's burdens
Their hurt, their grief, their pain
Its time you let me care for you
Friday, March 03, 2006
Say cheese... please
You never smiled in my pictures.
I am so tempted to just leave this post as is, with just that one line, because I feel that is all I need to say. But for those who may actually read, I suppose I owe a thought or two to make it worth your while. And besides... I don't need to worry about you reading this and feeling exposed, you probably don't even know I have a blog.
I recently had the honest pleasure of speaking with you on the phone a week or so ago. It was the first time we had a conversation that didn't sit of the fence of being superficial and painfully truthful in over 6 months. It was actually beautiful. So, I have been thinking of you on and off, a bit more than before, but in a grateful way. With gratitude for our friendship. And in gratitude that neither of us let ourselves get in the way of that. And dont get me wrong, we still have a long way to go in moving out of our own way, but it was a giant skip foward.
When I find myself in these moments of nostalgia and quiet joy, it naturally comes across my mind once or twice how we didn't quite become what we wanted so badly to be. Everything to each other. And a complete inability to grasp how such a forceful will and heart-strong desire could not be enough to make it work.
It was in one of these moments that I pulled out a few DVDs, in amongst which I had stashed your photo album. It fell out as if on cue, and I looked at you. And then I smiled to myself. You didn't.
You never did. You would hardly ever let a picture be taken, let alone smile in it. After almost five years, I can still carry every photo of you that I own in a 10 page photo album. And half of the photos are of your apartment. And I just needed to let you know.
You can take it as an explanation, or as a complaint, or anything you need it to be. Because it is everything I need it to be. Its sad, its angry, its humorous, its mournful, its sarcastic, its me. It was always me begging you from the other side of the lense...
say cheese - please
I am so tempted to just leave this post as is, with just that one line, because I feel that is all I need to say. But for those who may actually read, I suppose I owe a thought or two to make it worth your while. And besides... I don't need to worry about you reading this and feeling exposed, you probably don't even know I have a blog.
I recently had the honest pleasure of speaking with you on the phone a week or so ago. It was the first time we had a conversation that didn't sit of the fence of being superficial and painfully truthful in over 6 months. It was actually beautiful. So, I have been thinking of you on and off, a bit more than before, but in a grateful way. With gratitude for our friendship. And in gratitude that neither of us let ourselves get in the way of that. And dont get me wrong, we still have a long way to go in moving out of our own way, but it was a giant skip foward.
When I find myself in these moments of nostalgia and quiet joy, it naturally comes across my mind once or twice how we didn't quite become what we wanted so badly to be. Everything to each other. And a complete inability to grasp how such a forceful will and heart-strong desire could not be enough to make it work.
It was in one of these moments that I pulled out a few DVDs, in amongst which I had stashed your photo album. It fell out as if on cue, and I looked at you. And then I smiled to myself. You didn't.
You never did. You would hardly ever let a picture be taken, let alone smile in it. After almost five years, I can still carry every photo of you that I own in a 10 page photo album. And half of the photos are of your apartment. And I just needed to let you know.
You can take it as an explanation, or as a complaint, or anything you need it to be. Because it is everything I need it to be. Its sad, its angry, its humorous, its mournful, its sarcastic, its me. It was always me begging you from the other side of the lense...
say cheese - please
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