What the fuck am I doing?


We realized that we are eachother's best friends.


A show.
Of the local friends.

I finally find a guy to buy a sac from.
I give him good conversation.
He shares a bowl with me.
He reminds me of two people put together.
And he is mediocre, but nothing negative to me.

Two playing electronic music.
I was high, and found it hilarious.
Claimed it sounded like two battling video games.

A hardcore man.
Playing pumped up Blink 182, basically.
No one danced.
No one stood.
And I felt really bad for him.
Because I really respected his bravery.
However, he was playing to a shitty drum track and recorded backing vocals.

A guy on guitar with eyes that lock.
Similar to The Killers.

A bitch with a voice and a personality similar to cocaine.
A seventiest vibe.
A bad guitar solo.
And one that's okay, but taken too far.
A broken string.
Embarrassing groupies.

The guy I smoked with keeps watching me where I go.

She walks up to me.
Alcohol in the van.
I run after him to join.
A boy is talking about fucking a girl he doesn't like.
I tell him to stop waisting his time if he doesn't like her.
They laugh.

Space bag.
The only way to consume is quickly.
Breathe out of your mouth.
All for the influence.

A boy who finds me interesting.
Blonde, greasy, straightened hair.
Snake bites.
All black clothing.
First thing I heard when I met him outside was a cocaine brag.
Which made me grind my teeth and hate him.
We talk about California.
He says that Classick Rock is over, and it's 2011.
I tell him there's a little bit out there, and that 2011 has nothing to do with it.
He mentions that he heard there was a good hardcore scene in California.
That's what he's into.
I tell him I don't know anything about it.

Weed pulls me out of the van.
And I talk to the singing girl with a beautiful rock necklace.
Red silk shirt.
Black bell bottom jeans past her belly button.
With flowers crawling up the right leg.

The pipe forms it's own circle without me.
Some boy finds my Buck Fush shirt interesting.
The guy I smoked with before invites us to smoke in his car.
I find myself drunk and holding the pipe for too long.
Lost in conversation, and they're making fun of me.
The cliche' form of flirtation.
They kept telling me I was drunk.
Which is obvious since I stated it myself.
And since I was drinking.
That is what happens.
But they had nothing to say.
And wanted to still poke at me.

The night became a blur of cans, bag, weed, music, and a van multiple times.
I sit in the van listening to them play.
Covers of Modest Mouse.
A pixies song that always brings me to my group of friends.
I stumble along to find myself at a Pink Floyd cover.
And it's euphoric.
And well done.
The trombone.

A band that I was introduced to during my stay is sung amongst everyone in the room.

"I don't care if my eyes roll back in my head."

The boy who decided to wear a girl's short shorts is being spun around in a random wheelchair.

Somehow find myself in the van again.
A fat girl in a goth dress with red lipstick wants my acceptance.
I give it to her because I'm drunk, and I feel like talking a lot.
I find myself stuck in the bathroom with her.
I introduce her to high quality lipstick.
She bends the stick off the end.
An puts it on sloppily.

My friend knocks on the door searching for me for the millionth time.

I miss meeting people in these situations.
I miss these situations.

We drive home, and Mr. Hardcore needs a ride.
We, therefore, piled in the back.
The boy in the front seat steps his muddy shoes on my jacket and white sweatshirt.
The Hardcore listener is in the middle.
I am by the door.
He tries to hold the handle on the door.
The excuse to have his arm around my back.
I sit forward and hate this moment all the way through.
However harmless it is, I don't want him touching me.

After dropping everyone off.
My friend and I arrive at her place.
Finish watching the intervention with the PCP addict.
Eat balls of Chex Mix.
Realize I'm eating for no reason.
The most beautiful man in my life calls me.
We talk about our nights.
I sleep.
Wake up.
Go upstairs.
Grab and chug soymilk.
Bring the soymilk with me and repeat several times.
Wake up, and go to the gym.


The only way to avoid obsession and destruction is to be in shape.
Otherwise, I would slip back into cocaine and bile.


Black eyes from the same skin.
I feel like my mind is slipping into disturbance once again.
I like this.
It brings my creativity back.
It brings....
Self awareness back.
I've been so.
.... So plain, it seems.
My struggles only consist of my relationship.

Exercising is my new control.
And I've slipped into a weight gain that has brought back an obsessive mind.
Due to the lack of exercise.
I can not vomit, though.
Because she used to, and I'm staying with her.
But I'm really glad.
If it weren't for visiting her,
Well, I may have been able to fix myself.
But going through this partial self hatred again, an only having a solution that is positive is probably the first time I've done it the right way.
Done anything the appropriate way.
And it's making my butt HUGE and amazing.
One reason why I enjoy gaining weight.
Because once I lose it, my ass doesn't.

I had a dream.
This boy from my second semester of photography class.
He was attractive, but nothing of my interest.
In this dream, we somehow started to physically connect.
Not in a sexual manner, but in a comforting way.
And I sat below him as he held me.
And Bryan was in my mind, and I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I made the decision to let it continue as long as I did nothing sexual.
And this boy way stuck in my mind, and all I wanted was this cuddling with him.

And it's swimming through my mind today.
Why, even if it's a dream, would I think to lie.
Keep secrets.
Why would I go to someone else in my dream for comfort.
And.... Obviously a situation like that would lead to more.
I just don't feel comfortable with dreams like that because my morals are against it.

And I don't want my mind to ever think of such things.


They aren't fake to me, but they're fake to everyone else.
And they care what people think.
And they're dumb bitches.
And I'm embarrassed of them.
And I don't want them to visit me because no one would like them

And she's a drunk bitch.
And she hates how happy I am.
And I keep my mouth shut and stay nice towards her.
But I don't want her anymore.
All she wants is to be fucking cool.

And to the worrier, you are not involved in this.