Spider Webs, Cold Hands, and Little Deaths -- AFTERMATH
Wow...
I've just been exposed to a part of the world that I never wanted to know. Not because of how it made me feel, but because I know that so many other people feel that this is their only way out.
My experience with weed has been a bad one. Throughout the entire duration of the high I felt as if I wasn't myself. All of my redeeming qualities seemed to fade away, and I became nothing more than a dirifting husk waiting idly for my person to reinhabit it.
I think about how some people are so obcessed with this feeling, and I feel a great sense of mourning for them -- they are already dead. There is too much beauty in life to be wasted away on this disassociative, mind numbing, parasite. We have a life to LIVE, and god damn it we should cherish every damn thing that comes to us as our selves.
I felt like some kind of monster when I was high. I didn't want to be touched, if I was looked at the most appropiate thing to do was to sneer back. My driving became a touch reckless as I became enthralled by the sound of the car motor, and just.. ugh..
I don't want to feel this anymore, at least not intentionally. There's a fine line between accidently getting high throughout the course of life, and willfully throwing a dark sooty blanket over you. This past day I felt as if part of me was dieing -- no more.
I don't know what to do within the context of our relationship. I had hoped that 'getting stoned' would have liberated me, but instead it only made me realize how much pain she has inside herself. If anything it is beneficial for that purpose, but honestly I do not know what to do with it. I can not in good consciousness support this kind of behavior -- knowingly turning yourself into a thing rather than a person.
Returning to her house last night was aweful, but I wanted to be with her. She was so cute when she looked at me and layed her lips upon mine. Still, she wasn't cute like "You're so cute I love you." She was cute like "How much is that stuffed ducky in the window."
When I see those eyes glassed over, I no longer see a person -- I see a shell. A hollowed out mockery of a person that I love that is temperarily escaping her demons. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I now wish I could claim ignorance. I wish I hadn't tried, b ecause then there would still be a shroud of exotic mysticism eeparating us, but I've peeked past the shroud now, and I realize how empty life can be really be. There is no more illusion and at the end of the day it just makes me feel really sad.
What do you do for a loved one who continually tries to escape from themself? I feel a great pitty, because I want the Courtney I know. I don't want a glassy eyed ducky in the window, I don't want a drunken mound of flesh that slumps into her pillow at the end of the day. Is to be a girlfriend to soomeone synonomous with picking up all the messes?
We wake up and go to sleep together, which leaves me to reckno with the aftermath of whatever she's decided to do that day. I feel horrible, because I can't see her as the same person (or in some cases even as a person) when she's fucked up. She wants her freedom to do what she will do on her own time, which I have been more than happy to let her do. The problem lies however in that when it comes to be our time, she's still recouperating from her time. I didn't enter a relationship for that.
When we are close things are beautiful, but these orhters issues only make me feel far away. How can I be close to someone who isn't even in her mind? How can I in good conscience lay my hand on her cheek and pretend to smile on someone that I know? How can I make love to a hollowed out shell, or accept the kisses, or cuddles of a wayward spacy lump, and cherish them as if they were the person that I fell for.
I feel dishonest and unclean when I think about it.
It just makes me sad, and I don't know what to do.
The end.
I've just been exposed to a part of the world that I never wanted to know. Not because of how it made me feel, but because I know that so many other people feel that this is their only way out.
My experience with weed has been a bad one. Throughout the entire duration of the high I felt as if I wasn't myself. All of my redeeming qualities seemed to fade away, and I became nothing more than a dirifting husk waiting idly for my person to reinhabit it.
I think about how some people are so obcessed with this feeling, and I feel a great sense of mourning for them -- they are already dead. There is too much beauty in life to be wasted away on this disassociative, mind numbing, parasite. We have a life to LIVE, and god damn it we should cherish every damn thing that comes to us as our selves.
I felt like some kind of monster when I was high. I didn't want to be touched, if I was looked at the most appropiate thing to do was to sneer back. My driving became a touch reckless as I became enthralled by the sound of the car motor, and just.. ugh..
I don't want to feel this anymore, at least not intentionally. There's a fine line between accidently getting high throughout the course of life, and willfully throwing a dark sooty blanket over you. This past day I felt as if part of me was dieing -- no more.
I don't know what to do within the context of our relationship. I had hoped that 'getting stoned' would have liberated me, but instead it only made me realize how much pain she has inside herself. If anything it is beneficial for that purpose, but honestly I do not know what to do with it. I can not in good consciousness support this kind of behavior -- knowingly turning yourself into a thing rather than a person.
Returning to her house last night was aweful, but I wanted to be with her. She was so cute when she looked at me and layed her lips upon mine. Still, she wasn't cute like "You're so cute I love you." She was cute like "How much is that stuffed ducky in the window."
When I see those eyes glassed over, I no longer see a person -- I see a shell. A hollowed out mockery of a person that I love that is temperarily escaping her demons. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I now wish I could claim ignorance. I wish I hadn't tried, b ecause then there would still be a shroud of exotic mysticism eeparating us, but I've peeked past the shroud now, and I realize how empty life can be really be. There is no more illusion and at the end of the day it just makes me feel really sad.
What do you do for a loved one who continually tries to escape from themself? I feel a great pitty, because I want the Courtney I know. I don't want a glassy eyed ducky in the window, I don't want a drunken mound of flesh that slumps into her pillow at the end of the day. Is to be a girlfriend to soomeone synonomous with picking up all the messes?
We wake up and go to sleep together, which leaves me to reckno with the aftermath of whatever she's decided to do that day. I feel horrible, because I can't see her as the same person (or in some cases even as a person) when she's fucked up. She wants her freedom to do what she will do on her own time, which I have been more than happy to let her do. The problem lies however in that when it comes to be our time, she's still recouperating from her time. I didn't enter a relationship for that.
When we are close things are beautiful, but these orhters issues only make me feel far away. How can I be close to someone who isn't even in her mind? How can I in good conscience lay my hand on her cheek and pretend to smile on someone that I know? How can I make love to a hollowed out shell, or accept the kisses, or cuddles of a wayward spacy lump, and cherish them as if they were the person that I fell for.
I feel dishonest and unclean when I think about it.
It just makes me sad, and I don't know what to do.
The end.