I realize now that I didn't get to fully elaborate on the statement I made in the last post. It's weird when you can tell you are changing, and you know you could stop it if you wanted to, but you just don't care. This sounds a lot like a previous post, but it's different, I swear.
Those faces and beings I've surrounded myself with and considered to be "my kind"....aren't really fitting the way they used to. It's puzzling, the puzzle of life: a constant tetris game of trying to find the perfect fit with those spaces and corresponding faces. And it's fucking exhausting. It's a vicious cycle of going with the flow of your instincts and regretting, regretting, regretting those decisions and the sacrifices you must make because of them. I generally get along with most people (varying with the day and the number of drinks/hits), but lately, I feel like conversations are forced and fucking nostalgic. Gross. I feel like I can only connect with two people here on an intellectual, delusional level. Yet this otiose, platform 93/4 drenched level, when reached, never lasts long enough. My eccentric thirst is never quenched. I'm always waiting for the beloved, most coveted, long, blue piece to appear in the game to make it all even and make it all make sense.
No comments:
Post a Comment