And so it goes . . .

27 06 2010

A strange night in this foul year of our lord. Not so much that anything has happened, no, not at all. The strangeness comes from within inside my head. And I am not saying that this is some whiny ass rant about how much life is terrible and every other bullshit thing that people piss and moan about. No, not here my good sir. If you want that kind of shit, go look up your typical spoiled rotten 15 year old American teenager’s Live Journal.

Anyway, enough of that nonsense. This strangeness I am referring to is like a surrealistic feeling that only so many experience and not particularly enjoy. It is one of those feelings you can’t recall any specific date, hell, you don’t even want to admit that you felt that way, but it’s there. Lurking in the shadows of your mind like some kind of serial rapist with a deformed member. I wish I was able to properly convey it in more simpler terms. I mean, how often can we get in that mindset of a rapist with a deformed member? Hopefully not at all. If you can then I think you need to speak to someone or just kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble you fucking fiend.

Where was I?

Right. There really is no way to convey how I feel but trust me, it is there. It taunts me and teases me that it won’t leave and let me think in peace. It is maddening to be honest; like “Full Moon Fever” inside my head. And I don’t mean the Tom Petty album. The kind of fever that the police and EMT workers murmur about. Naked people dancing in the streets and bleeding from self-inflicted knife wounds because it felt pretty good at the time. The type of behavior that would get someone locked up for a long time. But on these kind of nights this type of behavior is acceptable as one won’t suffer any long term jail time. Maybe a night in the cooling tank but not much else. Hell, they might even bypass bail if you offer a blowjob for everyone at the station who is willing to get a blowjob through cold prison bars.

I feel restless as usual too. I need to get out but I came up with nothing so I am sitting here typing like a madman. Totally “in the moment” as I type. No pause or rest, just typing whatever is churning inside my head at the moment. I wanna dip my balls in it. See? Totally in the moment there. I won’t accept it any other way.

I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I wish it was literal, that would be easier. I’d just kick the fucking walls back. But no, it has to be the metaphorical sense and it can’t be stopped. Goddamn fuckers. I wish I was able to just go out for a little while and see where it takes me. But having $2 in my pocket won’t get me far. Maybe a soda. Fuck soda! Doesn’t do anyone any good except for a flavor that we just know simply as, “soda.” And fuck whoever calls it “pop!” I find that annoying as it clearly says “soda” on the fucking bottle! The day I see it saying “pop” on the bottle then I will submit and refer  to it as such, but for now it’s fucking soda. Now that we got that out of the way let’s continue, shall we? Or not, you can go away if you feel. I’ll type a little bit more, thank you.

I feel like having a strong drink. But on the same token I don’t want the general miserable feeling it brings on the next day. I drank about twice this week and each time I felt fucking miserable the next day. Not even hungover! I just wake up in a foul mood and I want to stab someone or myself, which is morally easier at the moment I suppose. I’m not violent by nature but you get someone to a point that they could really care less. I guess stabbing myself would be sort of hilarious to explain. “Yeah I got mad so I stabbed myself.”  “So you slit your wrist?”  “Fuck no man! I stabbed myself! Like a dishonored Japanese man! Now lob my head off so my suffering ends!” *End scene*

I hope these walls stop eventually, I’m not the claustrophobic type but hot-damn I can’t breathe right now. Maybe it’s an oncoming panic attack or a heart attack. Either way, it’s an involuntary attack that my body feels it should do because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I seriously want to have a sit down with myself and ask why the fuck self “attacks” are a great thing to go through.

So yeah, I think my well is slightly spent, I need to refill it.