{Praise:The:Ripping:Sky}
"I walk the line of the disappointed,
I celebrate when I'm in pain.
My heart and mind can be disjointed,
I built a bed in this hole I made.
I recognize that I'm damaged,
I sympathize that you are too,
But I wanna breathe without feelin' so self-conscious,
But it's hard when the world's starin' at you.
Another piece of the puzzle, that doesn't fit.
You throw your arms up, you're so damn sick of it."
Hey kids.
So I'm gonna go on a ramble, who would've guessed right? I think I may even make a rhyme about it.
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I don't care about 100, 85, or 73.
Years past late teen don't mean shit to me.
Die young, corpse looking fine.
I wouldn't be upset at all if it was mine.
Sure there's alot to have and hold,
So pardon me if I seem too bold,
But the fact is when our bodies go cold,
We go in the ground and then we mold.
Taking in pleasure shouldn't be such a sin,
I've always been the first to let things in.
Tomorrow could be when I finally shut off,
I'd rather go with a shot and a smoker's cough.
One or two things I may even quit,
I may spend a night in a gravel pit,
But such is my life, or how I dream for at least.
I'll drink, mosh, eat a carnivore's feast.
So take this as my ode,
My "testament olographe"!
So while I'm still here, while I'm still around,
Buy me a beer and let's have a laugh.
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Well that was nice wasn't it? :D
I thought so too!
So, anywhore, I never planned beyond 25. I planned on doing what I love, being with those I love, and listening to what I love until I drove my face into the pavement. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing. I see so many people, who in their old age, are just suffering. They are neglected, abused, and monetarily raped by anyone who can get their claws into them. I may make it to 60, hell, I may even make it to 80, but you know what?
I plan on making it there knowing that I did absolutely everything to enjoy myself along the way.
I don't like eating foliage, I loved the feeling about getting knocked on my ass in a mosh and then feeling everyone's smiling faces and hands pulling me back in to a raw, hard D-beat. I can't stand dead-end jobs. I hate the "elder" complex. Knowing how some of my bestfriends can act from time to time can feel like an utter disgrace, blatantly though, when I say bestfriend, they did something strong to EARN that title. I like my music ear-shattering, because I wasn't built to whisper, except at certain times. . .(most of you know exactly what voice I'm talking about).
I know I've got a few really big choice to make over the next little bit, hard ones.
What do I do with you, you, and especially you?
Where should I be in this place?
Take the course, or just use god given talent?
Give up?
Burn that to the ground and bask in the ashes?
Devote time to this. . .or that?
Fuck, wake me when it's over.
But enough about shit, let's move on.
Forest went to the hospital tonight. . that's always great. He was here earlier and not in the greatest state that's for sure.
Pretty sure both of you two are pissed off at me, which is also always great.
I'd rather be honest, than show up and not be able to contain myself, because I don't know what would happen anymore.
You mister, apologized to me the other day, and I didn't answer. Doubt you'll even read this, but eh, I don't give a shit if you do or not, it's for me to get it out. I love your ass, and it didn't and DOESN'T matter what anyone says about you, I will hold my ground. You are you, there is nothing superficially fixed in place. I would welcome you back with open arms in an instant, but why should one simple sorry make up for days, week, and months of shit talk about me behind my back be so simple to just twist back around? I honestly don't know why I keep defending you. I guess I just keep the instinct in my head that one day we'll be you and I again, and on that day, I don't want to resent you.
Bruce, Trevor, Tegan, and alike have court Friday for all that BS that went down awhile back. I swear that court date is like a 12 year-old on her fucking period.
I can't wait for the 12th. Out of town for a few days, among my kind.
I still can't get a god-damn appointment for my tattoo(s), so I'm thinking I'm just gonna call and set one up and say that this is the date, get me there and pay so you can finally keep your part of the bargain.
Fillings A.S.A.P. Definitely looking forward to that.
Tip of the iceberg, but hey, it'll be nice to look back at this really drunk one night and know that everything was either this "awesome" or got a hell of alot better.
We're headed for a helluvatime.
Adieu, Blair.
