The cynical will blame, the optimists will deny, the rich will shoot up, while the rest of us burn alive. A sea of flames and a suffocating daze smothers collapsing lungs and heaving stomachs, when there was so much we could have done. A fleeting glimmer of beauty reflected in embers that burn out faster than a cigarette between two trembling fingers. Sunken eyes and yellowed nails clawing at the facets of reality and perception begging for a second chance. Withering figures in every direction and the music is still audible, a drone of consistent hollow memory. Propaganda.
When I was 15/16 I was doing mescaline and molly at the same time at excision, snorting benzos for fun, fucking a 21 year old who’s now in jail then fucking 3 of his friends because I could, drinking for three consecutive days at a “party”, sneaking into bars in Boston and drinking beer and chain smoking with some dude named Harris who was apparently some kind of ambassador’s son, dropping acid at 4am praying I didn’t die, and fucking driving to Pennsylvania for a concert
1) what the fuck is my life
2) if my kids are anything like I am I’m gonna kill myself
3) IF IVE ALREADY PEAKED I AM GOING TO BE SO MAD
mosaics are made from broken pieces but they’re still works of art and so are you
I’ve lost close to all desire to do drugs of any sort and that’s weird to me. At the same time I’m overwhelmed with this sense of need, of urgency and responsibility. As if all of a sudden every single person relying on me has just appeared out of nowhere although it is no surprise. Like this time is crucial, I’m being watched, and I need to be on my best behavior. It’s a strange wave of obedience and it’s making me restless. Like there should be something more, like I need to take the next step. Every existential sensation I have relished in over the last year or two has become painfully artificial in my eyes, like an experience I’ve worn out and outgrown. Is this what loss does? I question my values every day, how exactly I’m expected to maintain a feeling of youth when I can’t even go about a task with enthusiasm. My curiosity has taken a turn for the practical as opposed to zany and free flowing. I don’t know, I just feel lost.