where i am at these days
i think about blow a lot more often than i would like to admit and itís just this mess in my head of craving and guilt and relief and i donít want to admit that it changed me but it did. the consequence of this is loss but also survival, because i cannot keep walking around absorbing the feelings of everyone around me without any armor to shut it out or at least slow it down. grief has filled this town like a toxin and i have been breathing it in too deeply; blow is the gas mask keeping it at bay, and itís ugly and horrible but so are most things. i think about blow and i think about falling bodies and the color of my skin and this privileged white kid bullshit escapism and the death of our friend and that makes it easy to walk away from now, but the residual effects are permanent.
i went looking for nothing and found it and if i feel hollowed out now, it is with a level of both horror and relief. i never understood before why you would go looking for chaos and destruction because it seemed like asking for things to be worse than they are but really it was a matter of self-preservation. this is how we stay alive.
as usual iíve made this sound more dramatic than it is but you should know iím laughing about it.
you think youíre so bad but youíre just badly raised