BACK home there was a girl I used to date named Annie Goodman. I really do believe, and I know when this comes out of the mouth of a child it is often thought of as meaningless due to the lack of experience and maturity of the speaker, but I really do believe I am quite in love with her. I was before and I am still. If anything now I feel more strongly about her. It makes me sad to be away from her. I think about us all the time. Not actually all the time, but multiple times during the day. When I wake up and before I fall asleep, every time I see a girl wearing glasses or who is short or who has a hot ass. I wish and I dream...
THE only thing I can (seemingly) recall seriously dreaming about being, not just the becoming, is a writer.
I am feeling very alone. It's overwhelming. I've started smoking much more than I used to (a social crutch in my mind) and am constantly craving artificial escape. I guess it really is my own fault, seeing as I was evicted from my prior residence and thus successfully isolated myself from everyone that I knew. But still, I just feel that no one is seeking out my company. Which stinks. I miss my friends. I miss commandeering the attention of the group and talking until someone stops me. I miss acid. I miss getting high before school. And during school. And after school. And in my room. And in the shower. Fuck, I miss getting in trouble. I miss having someone want to know where I am and what I'm doing. But mostly I just miss being able to vent all my crappy emotions. I was about to, but the timing didn't work out. Oh well, maybe it's a sign? Unlikely, a coincidence is the word I was searching for. Funk, it's late. I need my sleep. I'm getting sick.
THIS is really just an outlet for me.
ON a lighter note, I just downloaded Jillan's friend's mixtape "Pré: Everyday." He is actually much, much more talented than I originally pegged him to be. The pretentious side of me showing right there.
THE only thing I can (seemingly) recall seriously dreaming about being, not just the becoming, is a writer.
I am feeling very alone. It's overwhelming. I've started smoking much more than I used to (a social crutch in my mind) and am constantly craving artificial escape. I guess it really is my own fault, seeing as I was evicted from my prior residence and thus successfully isolated myself from everyone that I knew. But still, I just feel that no one is seeking out my company. Which stinks. I miss my friends. I miss commandeering the attention of the group and talking until someone stops me. I miss acid. I miss getting high before school. And during school. And after school. And in my room. And in the shower. Fuck, I miss getting in trouble. I miss having someone want to know where I am and what I'm doing. But mostly I just miss being able to vent all my crappy emotions. I was about to, but the timing didn't work out. Oh well, maybe it's a sign? Unlikely, a coincidence is the word I was searching for. Funk, it's late. I need my sleep. I'm getting sick.
THIS is really just an outlet for me.
ON a lighter note, I just downloaded Jillan's friend's mixtape "Pré: Everyday." He is actually much, much more talented than I originally pegged him to be. The pretentious side of me showing right there.
