I'm good now. I mean for real. Life is a great thing.
I'm over myself, but not under the table.
I'm looking forward to the taste of red wine.
You are invited.
Let's fucking make a ruckus and catch some fireflies.
The discarded past is a remnant of reflection wading in the waters of pious debachauery. Yet, I shall discard it. Perhaps most with it, but a few. For why else? It's the only way I'll ever be able to live sanely. And if you REALLY know me, then I think you know what I mean. Apathy is a cold strangle of sad drunks, and addicted musicians. It is needed at times, and it can become comfortable, maybe even too comfortable. But the majority of the time, it's simply smothering and restless. Like a plastic bag choking dolphins, and I was just screeching, writhing in the water, thinking "maybe if I move the right way...."
And thats bullshit. Like most of everything maybe. But it's what I've come to. Because it's true. Like the good advice I brush off, it is utterly true.
Like the crime of addiction. The crime of love. The crime of obsession.
The pathetic details should never overwrite the inauspicious ends. Fuck the details. They bring discretion at too high a level, and confuse the very fabric of what is important to you. It all seems so simple sometimes, like you can place the point at which these details became important, but the truth is it's much harder. The details can become anything, and the extent to which you will rectify them is astounding. All too abolish insecurities which are healthy. Which are normal. Which make you even give a fuck. And when you disregard those, you become a king of narcissism. The very pinnacle of self-obsessed ass. Perhaps my own perspective is biased, but I know that these things ARE true. It is simple fear at the root of it. No blame-shift. No 2nd chances. Just a sweet kiss goodbye to the wrong-doings of your former self; Or, that which you'd like to be, but are maybe just on your way.
Let's create. Maybe we can forget or just choose not to remember. Because the ends are a much better thing to remember. Too fucking sweet for anything else to matter as much.
^_^
Jun 30, 2008
I'm over myself, but not under the table.
I'm looking forward to the taste of red wine.
You are invited.
Let's fucking make a ruckus and catch some fireflies.
The discarded past is a remnant of reflection wading in the waters of pious debachauery. Yet, I shall discard it. Perhaps most with it, but a few. For why else? It's the only way I'll ever be able to live sanely. And if you REALLY know me, then I think you know what I mean. Apathy is a cold strangle of sad drunks, and addicted musicians. It is needed at times, and it can become comfortable, maybe even too comfortable. But the majority of the time, it's simply smothering and restless. Like a plastic bag choking dolphins, and I was just screeching, writhing in the water, thinking "maybe if I move the right way...."
And thats bullshit. Like most of everything maybe. But it's what I've come to. Because it's true. Like the good advice I brush off, it is utterly true.
Like the crime of addiction. The crime of love. The crime of obsession.
The pathetic details should never overwrite the inauspicious ends. Fuck the details. They bring discretion at too high a level, and confuse the very fabric of what is important to you. It all seems so simple sometimes, like you can place the point at which these details became important, but the truth is it's much harder. The details can become anything, and the extent to which you will rectify them is astounding. All too abolish insecurities which are healthy. Which are normal. Which make you even give a fuck. And when you disregard those, you become a king of narcissism. The very pinnacle of self-obsessed ass. Perhaps my own perspective is biased, but I know that these things ARE true. It is simple fear at the root of it. No blame-shift. No 2nd chances. Just a sweet kiss goodbye to the wrong-doings of your former self; Or, that which you'd like to be, but are maybe just on your way.
Let's create. Maybe we can forget or just choose not to remember. Because the ends are a much better thing to remember. Too fucking sweet for anything else to matter as much.
^_^
Jun 30, 2008
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