have you ever confused a dream with life... or stolen something when you had the cash...

[huellas316]

this cannot be the way to write a novel, because 'girl, interrupted' and 'prozac nation' have already been written... like them, there was once unmitigated potential, but i never saw it; it was simply taken for granted and danced upon like so many devil's skulls in a self-absorbed attempt to make myself Happy... funny how it all works out, isn't it? funny, i remember as if it were yesterday, when i told my mother that i had discovered something that would allow me to stop Feeling, if only for a while: i viewed marijuana as the solution to all my problems, for the briefest of minutes, until it truly became the source of all my problems. but by then, i was 'addicted,' but by then, i was so ensconced into the belief that it was truly a blessing from Jah and that all the 'persecution' that i was facing from Da Man was just babylon system's way of testing my allegiance to the mighty earth, to the mighty herb, to the cause of rastafari. the serpent slithering down my spine, the serpent of pride, self-righteousness, telling me that it was all going to be okay, that i was being TAUGHT things that i would never have been able to experience otherwise. it wasn't until several years down the line that i realized the true happiness lay in teaching children, and i fumbled and stumbled my way through jungles and deserts, dirty greyhound stations at midnight; graham assumed prophetic-like status - 'you don't have to work in a school to teach children...' and so it has indeed come to that, and so i am no longer a teacher, and never shall be again. and so everything is quiet, everything is silent, and the snow has not even started falling yet. the people who tell me my life can be beautiful still do not know; if they KNEW, they wouldn't lie to me and tell me such falsehoods, because they are people who do not understand what that Passion is... what that all-encompassing desire to do ONE THING the rest of your life, to have nothing else ever be anywhere NEAR as good - and i fucked it up, i fucked it up, i fucked it up. the sweet luge of the pistol in my mouth, but that is not the way i would do it, and i must try my very best to re-invent myself. to write with the ink-blood of all my too-late-learned lessons on a scroll of papyrus, standing the test of Time, and send it in a bottle to my future self:

don't get caught. don't even start. once you start, you can't stop...
the world gave you Joy, and you threw it away for a momentary high, and years heaped upon years of regret. it doesn't seem fair, it seems utterly insane to me; this dream-world i have created unto myself. everything is silent, and the snow has not even yet begun to fall...