on my way back home
On my way back home, by chance I thought of
All my favorite songs, where I’d gone wrong
The only words that I could think of
I’m pissing my life away in the form of a song
On my way back home
it’s been forever. somehow, along the way, i lost the motivation to keep this updated. this song played, and i’m sitting in my room, coming down from a high, and feeling kind of shitty. i hope i outgrow this, this senseless irresponsibility, this macabre obsession with the eventual banality of everything. but i haven’t though. it’s been with me for the last 8 years of my life. that’s a third of my life.
im not sure how i feel about how i’ve become such a pothead. it does feel kind of pathetic some times, but it really does make me happy. haha. also, this is definitely true:
However, they are the ones wise enough to know that most of the shit that they’re supposed to do isn’t really that important, so they light a bowl instead.
it’s the arrested development, the petty lives, the redundancy.
70% of the people around are redundant.
It was really bright this morning. The sun shone through the murky windows of the train, everything given a polaroid hue. Listening to the morning benders’ echo was probably the perfect song to come on shuttle. I might have lied to myself a little bit about engineering that on my part, but ignorance is bliss, and this is poignancy at its best.
The first day of work I walked back with my feet hurting from walking for 25 minutes, sunlight bouncing off the semi-tall buildings of chicago, watching people around me carrying pickets about israel and palestine, watching them in silence, my ears sealed off with angus and julia stone. It was there that I thought that everything around me had a certain sadness to it.
Today, I listened to cobra starship’s you make me feel, and skipped around enjoying the bassss bitch, although I once again missed my shuttle. Then I saw a horse carriage pull up, and I’ve always looked at the people taking them and wonder why would anyone take them about chi-city. This time I looked at the horse though. I looked at its eyes, and I had to stop walking. I stood there, took my earbuds off, and looked at it.
It was sad. All written in the eyes. In that very moment, my heart plunged.
there are two kinds of stoners;
the first engages the aural and the visual, listening to dubstep, watching trippy videos.
the other engages the stomach, and eats a fuckton of food.
i was the other last night. ahahahaha. oh my god, so much food.
it’s weird that i sometimes get momentary flashes of myself sitting in a 3-tonner truck down the dirt paths in some forest back home, covered in camouflage and sweat and grime.
it is actually pretty interesting. you get up into the truck, and you sit there, and across you are your comrades that, i honestly didnt care much for. camaraderie? bullshit, i always thought most of the people with me were dumbfucks. but anyhow, you sit there, and then the truck moves off, and you never really know where it is going, because everywhere looks the same; the only window that you actually get to see of the outside is the open back of the truck, and the scenery is the same; mustard green foilage and swirls of dust from the dirt path.
and then the truck stops, and you know you are deployed. and off you go, with a heavy heart and a heavier backpack, with the wary soul of an artificial soldier.
some of my comrades still meet up together and break bread and make merry over the memories that they shared. to me? honestly, some times i see this as mild PTSD.
this quarter honestly has been unbearable. and its actually different this time - im not complaining just for the sake of it, i think.
something’s happening in me, and i hope it isnt permanent.
because lately i feel too exhausted to live.
