(no subject)
I Saw You Walk Away
Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn't be living the way I do. Things are moving more slowly now, but I still feel like I'm going faster than I can handle. I think about dying a lot--not in an "omg I wanna die" sort of way, but I seriously question whether or not what I do is entirely safe. I know that what I do is unwise, though. I'm not mixed up in a gang or doing drugs. I just...don't know what's gonna happen to me at night. I leave my house and don't come back until much later. Rather than walking straight home, I wander around the highway like some sort of crazy person. I use that time to think about why the fuck I even bother doing that. I get tired...like the way I used to feel a couple of years ago. I lose a good deal of judgement and perception. I guess that'd be the same for anyone, really. Still, I can't help but think that I'm gonna be out one night hoping to fight people so I can beat them with nunchaku. There's no way that will end well for me. I don't have powers. I'm not a super vicious martial artist. I'm not even that strong or fast, my eyes are garbage, and my foot is crippled juuuust a bit. I feel so lame when I'm out late. I think I'm having a great time doing all this unpredictable stuff like finding my way through housing areas and behind department stores and plazas, but I'm terrified. I don't know why I keep going out when I know I'm so scared.
I think...I kinda want to test something. I want to know for certain what I can do within my own power to protect myself from the unknown. You know, maybe I do have a problem with control. What I do sometimes is dangerous and will eventually lead to me getting into some serious trouble or ending my life. It's all so stupid. Everything is stupid. No wait, it's not. Reality can be a product of perception. I've been denying that so hard. I AM worried about things. Stuff DOES bother me. I feel like I can't really call myself a totally awesome person if I get anxieous or down on things. Rather than dealing with what bugs me, I just pretend that I have a handle on everything. I totally freakin' don't. I'm thinkin' that if I say it enough, it'll be true. It totally freakin' won't. Feelings are very real things. I don't care about what I've said before. If you think that you're life is miserable because there are so many test ahead of you or your school work is some insurmountable load of papers on the horizon, then I'm done scoffing at you. It is real. It may not be a part of my experience, but it is real. I totally acknowledge that the burdens that I don't know the weight of are still heavy. You know, 'cause gravity is Earth's great equalizer. You can SAY you ain't fat all day, but gravity will prove you right or reprove dat ass. Reprovation, suckah.
Kayla takes me back some years moreso than Michael ever will because there was a wildly different experience there. Just as I associate Cabby with warm memories of a safe place to be and a person I can talk to that makes life slow down, Kayla just...boy, takes me back. I try to forget the last three years as if they were a terrible stain on my psyche, but those were pretty awesome times. Everything I felt back then was intense. Fires were hot and powerful even at the tip of a pencil. The smoke from sticks of cinnamon was somehow lighter in the air, blue, and spicy-sweet. I stayed in the air forever when I jumped and couldn't stop dancing if I tried. When I was happy, nothing had any weight anymore. Everything fused into this ambulant mass of colors and shapes. I felt like I was high. For a time, I actually was. When I was down, though, things sucked hardcore. Everything still came together to form a single cohesive mass to which I was a stark contrast. I felt totally out of place with everyone and myself. Pain was harsh. Pleasure was sophoric. Really, I just felt like sleeping a lot. I felt like dreaming. Life was like a big ol' dream. Every time I speak with Kayla in those few moments that I hear her really SPEAK, her voice carries that erractic and beautifully impermenant time when I met her. It takes me back to when Cabby would open her home to teh Pip and I and we'd eat cookies and laugh about everything ever. Ever.
When things were good, they were great.
I won't pretend to not have been foolish back then. I won't pretend that I did it all on purpose, either. There were very real things wrong with me then. There were very wonderful things that were right, too. The colors are muted now and the shapes to move as much. I still sense things differently than I did before I took those pills not all that long ago, but nothing is as intense. Really though, things have always been intense. Now stuff just isn't as wacky.
Right now, right freakin' now, I'm bothered by some unknown problem. I have a PROBLEM with something I can't quite pinpoint. I am pretty happy with the way things are now. Kayla's not around anymore. Cabby's got all sorts of things going on, so I don't really swing by as much. Michael is always...gonna be Michael, so the off-and-on lameness is still there. I'm still inconsistent as an upstanding guy. Nothing is perfect and everything may end without a warning. There might not be a note saying "I'm going" or "This is why I had to go". People can just come and go like clouds. I have to accept that.
I don't want to dissapear like that, though. I don't want to have to write a note, either. I'm not good with being on time or making calls when you need to get 'em. I don't have a car and I barely have any bus fare. It's a miracle I can cross the street on my own. I got one pair of shoes without holes in 'em. My hair is combed only most of the time, and that never seems to be enough. I can't start a conversation and I get jokes a little late. I'm sorry if I offended you for my own benefit. I thought it'd be hilarious. I'd also like to say you're welcome. Yeah, you're totally welcome because I was sincere when I said I'm sorry. I was sincere when I said I love you. When I loved you, I was honest. Honest! I miss you right now. I miss being on the floor of your bedroom, I miss being in those barrel-chairs in the kitchen, I miss you being on my oh-so-soft couch when you skipped school for me, I miss you kicking the air around my face, and moreso than all of that...I miss lying on the floor of the school with you....trying to make out shapes of animals and junk from the ceiling tiles. I miss when you jumped across the stone pillars and kissed me.
My life's been pretty bitchin'. Sure, I haven't done anything noteworthy, but I did totally whoop some blonde kid's ass before. That has to count for something. Something.
So I Smiled And Wished You Well
Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn't be living the way I do. Things are moving more slowly now, but I still feel like I'm going faster than I can handle. I think about dying a lot--not in an "omg I wanna die" sort of way, but I seriously question whether or not what I do is entirely safe. I know that what I do is unwise, though. I'm not mixed up in a gang or doing drugs. I just...don't know what's gonna happen to me at night. I leave my house and don't come back until much later. Rather than walking straight home, I wander around the highway like some sort of crazy person. I use that time to think about why the fuck I even bother doing that. I get tired...like the way I used to feel a couple of years ago. I lose a good deal of judgement and perception. I guess that'd be the same for anyone, really. Still, I can't help but think that I'm gonna be out one night hoping to fight people so I can beat them with nunchaku. There's no way that will end well for me. I don't have powers. I'm not a super vicious martial artist. I'm not even that strong or fast, my eyes are garbage, and my foot is crippled juuuust a bit. I feel so lame when I'm out late. I think I'm having a great time doing all this unpredictable stuff like finding my way through housing areas and behind department stores and plazas, but I'm terrified. I don't know why I keep going out when I know I'm so scared.
I think...I kinda want to test something. I want to know for certain what I can do within my own power to protect myself from the unknown. You know, maybe I do have a problem with control. What I do sometimes is dangerous and will eventually lead to me getting into some serious trouble or ending my life. It's all so stupid. Everything is stupid. No wait, it's not. Reality can be a product of perception. I've been denying that so hard. I AM worried about things. Stuff DOES bother me. I feel like I can't really call myself a totally awesome person if I get anxieous or down on things. Rather than dealing with what bugs me, I just pretend that I have a handle on everything. I totally freakin' don't. I'm thinkin' that if I say it enough, it'll be true. It totally freakin' won't. Feelings are very real things. I don't care about what I've said before. If you think that you're life is miserable because there are so many test ahead of you or your school work is some insurmountable load of papers on the horizon, then I'm done scoffing at you. It is real. It may not be a part of my experience, but it is real. I totally acknowledge that the burdens that I don't know the weight of are still heavy. You know, 'cause gravity is Earth's great equalizer. You can SAY you ain't fat all day, but gravity will prove you right or reprove dat ass. Reprovation, suckah.
Kayla takes me back some years moreso than Michael ever will because there was a wildly different experience there. Just as I associate Cabby with warm memories of a safe place to be and a person I can talk to that makes life slow down, Kayla just...boy, takes me back. I try to forget the last three years as if they were a terrible stain on my psyche, but those were pretty awesome times. Everything I felt back then was intense. Fires were hot and powerful even at the tip of a pencil. The smoke from sticks of cinnamon was somehow lighter in the air, blue, and spicy-sweet. I stayed in the air forever when I jumped and couldn't stop dancing if I tried. When I was happy, nothing had any weight anymore. Everything fused into this ambulant mass of colors and shapes. I felt like I was high. For a time, I actually was. When I was down, though, things sucked hardcore. Everything still came together to form a single cohesive mass to which I was a stark contrast. I felt totally out of place with everyone and myself. Pain was harsh. Pleasure was sophoric. Really, I just felt like sleeping a lot. I felt like dreaming. Life was like a big ol' dream. Every time I speak with Kayla in those few moments that I hear her really SPEAK, her voice carries that erractic and beautifully impermenant time when I met her. It takes me back to when Cabby would open her home to teh Pip and I and we'd eat cookies and laugh about everything ever. Ever.
When things were good, they were great.
I won't pretend to not have been foolish back then. I won't pretend that I did it all on purpose, either. There were very real things wrong with me then. There were very wonderful things that were right, too. The colors are muted now and the shapes to move as much. I still sense things differently than I did before I took those pills not all that long ago, but nothing is as intense. Really though, things have always been intense. Now stuff just isn't as wacky.
Right now, right freakin' now, I'm bothered by some unknown problem. I have a PROBLEM with something I can't quite pinpoint. I am pretty happy with the way things are now. Kayla's not around anymore. Cabby's got all sorts of things going on, so I don't really swing by as much. Michael is always...gonna be Michael, so the off-and-on lameness is still there. I'm still inconsistent as an upstanding guy. Nothing is perfect and everything may end without a warning. There might not be a note saying "I'm going" or "This is why I had to go". People can just come and go like clouds. I have to accept that.
I don't want to dissapear like that, though. I don't want to have to write a note, either. I'm not good with being on time or making calls when you need to get 'em. I don't have a car and I barely have any bus fare. It's a miracle I can cross the street on my own. I got one pair of shoes without holes in 'em. My hair is combed only most of the time, and that never seems to be enough. I can't start a conversation and I get jokes a little late. I'm sorry if I offended you for my own benefit. I thought it'd be hilarious. I'd also like to say you're welcome. Yeah, you're totally welcome because I was sincere when I said I'm sorry. I was sincere when I said I love you. When I loved you, I was honest. Honest! I miss you right now. I miss being on the floor of your bedroom, I miss being in those barrel-chairs in the kitchen, I miss you being on my oh-so-soft couch when you skipped school for me, I miss you kicking the air around my face, and moreso than all of that...I miss lying on the floor of the school with you....trying to make out shapes of animals and junk from the ceiling tiles. I miss when you jumped across the stone pillars and kissed me.
My life's been pretty bitchin'. Sure, I haven't done anything noteworthy, but I did totally whoop some blonde kid's ass before. That has to count for something. Something.
So I Smiled And Wished You Well