I will not own up to this later, but whatever follows is honest. It is me. It is not edited. It is free.
I am 23 years old and I am estranged from the values of my peers. I have left my peers for the most part. I fell in love. That sounds cliche’. But, her echoes still stir me, her eyes still chase me and I cry more often than I am comfortable—sometimes. It’s gotten better. Much better, but I still feel her absence. It’s been years. I don’t want anyone else for now.
I no longer thing of suicide. I’m still reckless and I jump a lot, both ways. But, I’ve been working. I’ve been working for years to get where I’m at now. I’m leaving. I need to say goodbye to the home with the smells and the flashes of my life so filled with adventure, false starts, my ego driven mad by emotionality, my epiphanies, my ennui and my plaguing sense of disappointment reinforced by people, only people.
I love the wind and green things and non-human beauty. There, outside with the stars purple eventual cosmic dust fleeing from the source with beautiful spiraling intensity causing vertigo-strapping chaos in inexpressible rhythmic fluid continuity, I do not exist.
My former lives seen as hackneyed heroic Hollywood tales complete with the bold unflinching behavior. Each visit to some completely indescribable miracle that every breath on this earth possesses if you notice, just notice. All the lost smiles and echoes from people running in and out of your life (some who’ve touched you at one point with feeling) are gone forever, never to return. Just like those memories, I must disappear never coming back to this mother fucking jumble of me me me expressed backwards and forwards with numbers and symbols and proper methods huff huff huff huff. Fuck. I can’t fucking wait to fucking leave this place so cruel with its distance. I want to go back to a time which does not exist, because I have imagined it so static-perfectly with sugar melted with subtle hints of mint. Smile, they say. It’s all in the mix.
For a year I have helped the unfortunate here and for what social benefit?
I have left companions anxious for more because I cannot accept their toxic elements. Yet, I don’t regret it. I don’t feel bad. I can only feed them lies, because the truth will hurt. So, poof. Like a ghost. How has two years gone by without me knowing? Where the fuck was I? Who the fuck am I? Wait, I know that one. How must I move to be satisfied? What is? Am I missing something?
Fuck this place and everyone in it.
Fuck this place and everyone in it.
Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck everyone I had to hold my tongue and fists for. You’re goddamn lucky you’re not worth it. Behind my mellow lies an anger very conscious and powerful. My light in dark places. My life without braces.
Like every deep relationship, I love and hate my time here. It made me who I am but made them who they are.
And to those who I’ve spent time with both reactively and cooperatively, take care. I’m sorry, but I’m done. I’ve had it. I’ve had enough. This is not the place for someone like me. I’ve tried to be open. I’ve tried it all; I’m tired of listing shit. It’s all the same bullshit anyway because there is no adequate substitution for the experience itself. You had to be there. I don’t know why the fuck I’m writing this. Ashes to ashes.
