My life has crashed in this cluster-fuck of a place and isn’t showing any signs of moving. In much the way a beggining meth user thinks nothing can go wrong, and then ends up in jail, I have ended up here, with nowhere near the apparent means of figuring out what exactly went wrong. Oh meth head, you have it easy, anybody can tell you where you messed up. Where things took a turn for the worst.
It’s hard to describe exactly whats wrong with this place I’m in. It’s discreetly fucked up.
I only really started getting into music 5 years ago, and back then I listened to music that was happy, generally optimistic. Now I find myself constantly listening to music that is rusted and grungy, almost sadist. It spurs the feeling to tilt my head back in my chair, close my eyes, and think back to when things were just what they were on the surface. No hidden meanings or agendas to decipher. Everybody just said things, and my mind left it at that.
The times were good, and I can still remember the exact physical attributes of all the constants in my life back then. I would walk up the 3 stairs to my house and insert the key into the door and its rusty knob. I would run up the second fleet of longer stairs, with an energy that seemed unlimited at the time. I would come in and hug my mom, and even though her body was small and frail, the confines of her generated love seemed limitless.
little did I know that feeling was excruciately hard to find in the big bad world.
I didn’t know what I had until I lost it. Total fucking cliche. I spent my whole life avoiding these truisms and I fall hard on the most painful one. If only someone had told me.
No more. I always look at what I have now and appreciate it, realizing that nothing is forever and things are taken away when least expected. Life is a hell of a player, but I’m working on a strategy that’s gonna have it on its toes. I’m sticking to the things that feel right. This. Writing feels right. Among other things. Lets not blow this by giving away the plan of attack.