I've been drinking vintage whiskey from an antique king kong... not even kidding. Its a mild celebration of the renewal of my existence. 24 doesn't feel that significant but it is a new year after all... oh the places we can go.
My birthday always renew my love/hate relationship with Facebook. 30-50 odd people whom you've barely ever spoken to, or have never spoken to at all, are suddenly casting warm birthday wishes your way. Bite me.
I may be drunk, but lets not let that get in the way.
I cried today. I cried because I couldn't fix my friends problems... I cried because I can't move in the blink of an eye, because I cant lift the heaviness. I want to so badly. I fantasize about winning money, and how I would buy my friends houses, cars, and pay off their tuition. Sometimes I search my heart, my existence for something to say. I want some zen-like piece of knowledge to make sense out of everything. Not for me, but for you. When i can't find it, I hide either behind a set of words that express true love but utter confusion... or just in totality.
I am that person who just desperately wants to make everything better.
I hate the fact that I need a mood altering substance to create a viable pathway between my emotions and my brain. My circuit board is a little screwy.
Often I stop myself from truly venting here, my blog, my space to say what I want. Why? because of some prying little weasels that I truly do not want privy to my insights my thoughts my passions and my troubles. Why do they deserve to hear whats really rattling around in my brain? I dont care anymore... have at it.
Knowing what I know just enhances my willingness to become blunt. Fuck off
Grind salt into the wound for all I care.
Do not mistake any of this nonsense for a off handed warning sign. I have not contracted a morbid sense of self, rather I have been rewarded with the knowledge of mortality. A sense of urgent participation in life's games that I may not have added my mark to.
After all, I may be drunk.
My birthday always renew my love/hate relationship with Facebook. 30-50 odd people whom you've barely ever spoken to, or have never spoken to at all, are suddenly casting warm birthday wishes your way. Bite me.
I may be drunk, but lets not let that get in the way.
I cried today. I cried because I couldn't fix my friends problems... I cried because I can't move in the blink of an eye, because I cant lift the heaviness. I want to so badly. I fantasize about winning money, and how I would buy my friends houses, cars, and pay off their tuition. Sometimes I search my heart, my existence for something to say. I want some zen-like piece of knowledge to make sense out of everything. Not for me, but for you. When i can't find it, I hide either behind a set of words that express true love but utter confusion... or just in totality.
I am that person who just desperately wants to make everything better.
I hate the fact that I need a mood altering substance to create a viable pathway between my emotions and my brain. My circuit board is a little screwy.
Often I stop myself from truly venting here, my blog, my space to say what I want. Why? because of some prying little weasels that I truly do not want privy to my insights my thoughts my passions and my troubles. Why do they deserve to hear whats really rattling around in my brain? I dont care anymore... have at it.
Knowing what I know just enhances my willingness to become blunt. Fuck off
Grind salt into the wound for all I care.
Do not mistake any of this nonsense for a off handed warning sign. I have not contracted a morbid sense of self, rather I have been rewarded with the knowledge of mortality. A sense of urgent participation in life's games that I may not have added my mark to.
After all, I may be drunk.
Is this saying what I think it may be? I've felt something in the air.
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