One week till I see this beautiful girl again
ive seriously been FUCKED up today, dear god. Why, oh why did i go to work in a fucking metal shop, on friday the 13th. I’ve had steel dropped on my foot, thank god to the one who came up with steel toes; had grass from my coworker who was cutting grass rape my eyes like a kinky face skeet porno; and, this is the best, had a goddamn piece of 11 gauge iron scrap, to those unsavy in metal working, its a fucking thick part, hit me in the SHIN. WTF REALLY, work on your aim motherfucker. I AM NOT THE SCRAP BIN! GODDAMMIT
so i just had the most religious trip thus far, and it was great. :D i even cried.
Euphoria and total religious understanding. it was… eye opening. regardless of my eyes being utterly red and squinty. ;]
sometimes i wonder, if this misery finds everyone, or if its just me. that maybe ive done something terribly wrong in my life that i should deserve this treatment. often people say they are born in the wrong time, or the wrong place; but i dont. because quite honestly i dont think a change of scenery would fix anything. nor do i think a different era would greet me with any more love than this one already has. my evident despair is intoxicating; as if an ever present fog is halting my senses, thoughts, and hope. we’re always told we can be anything we want, and that the world is our oyster. but mankind has raped the holiest of holies; ravaged perfection, now we live in a world of make believe, where being alive comes at a disposition of forfeiting what being alive once meant. but maybe happiness is just an idea, and that life isnt about achieving it but perusing it. to adapt and evolve to take what was ours in the garden. before we knew better, before we found out what our true purpose actually was. like a zoo keeper nurturing an injured animal back to health, and realizing for its own good it must be returned to its habitat. and whats a better test than rebellion before rebellion was, and once created, we were free. to know what we must do, and how we may do it. but these feet are tired of wandering for something it can never have, and this mind is consumed by confusion to unsolvable problems. getting high wont solve the problems i have today, and i know it never has. but what more is there, you may say im hiding behind it, but so is everyone to something else. my tainted soul just wants rest. an eternal sleep to dream of perfection, and the amnesia to forget we lost it. ive fallen from eden and im holding on to a sand castle at high tide. im throwing rocks at a glass temple that no longer exists. but what more is there to do?
striving for nirvana and compensating for despair, building another tower of babble to reach for a shooting star; im fighting the truth, but so is everyone else.