It Ain't Such a Thrill
So, I have been reading a lot of slash lately.
But that's usual.
Quite normal really.
I have a piece of paper that informs me that a kid writing about Napoleon Dynamite is still better than me. But that's okay. Because I wrote that damn thing when I was in 8th grade.
I had a dream last night that compiled so many different fears of mine.
The first nightmare I've had in months or at least remembered.
Well, actually, that one from the summer may count. The terrible premonition that ended up scaring the hell out of me as its truth emerged.
This one was about shaking elevators and sobbing 'oh god, oh god' over and over again as I hid my face in the corner. People that I hardly know. And blackness. Blacked out.
Not remembering anything.
Rather terrifying.
How everyone in it lied all over again.
And I still didn't understand.
Smoke in kick ass cars.
Twirling.
Twisting.
And Reminding.
I rather like it.
My associations with the sight and smell and awfully wonderful taste trapped.
It's a nice thing to hold onto.
I welcome that death at least with wagging fingers and a mocking smile.
Silly.
But that's usual.
Quite normal really.
I have a piece of paper that informs me that a kid writing about Napoleon Dynamite is still better than me. But that's okay. Because I wrote that damn thing when I was in 8th grade.
I had a dream last night that compiled so many different fears of mine.
The first nightmare I've had in months or at least remembered.
Well, actually, that one from the summer may count. The terrible premonition that ended up scaring the hell out of me as its truth emerged.
This one was about shaking elevators and sobbing 'oh god, oh god' over and over again as I hid my face in the corner. People that I hardly know. And blackness. Blacked out.
Not remembering anything.
Rather terrifying.
How everyone in it lied all over again.
And I still didn't understand.
Smoke in kick ass cars.
Twirling.
Twisting.
And Reminding.
I rather like it.
My associations with the sight and smell and awfully wonderful taste trapped.
It's a nice thing to hold onto.
I welcome that death at least with wagging fingers and a mocking smile.
Silly.