I'm sarcastic, I'm cynical, I carry a very black humor and a general disregard, disdain, and disrespect for everything.
I write, I philosophize, I brood.
Reblogged from leedaygo
“you shouldn’t be depressed, people have it worse than you”
finally, after years of searching, the person with the worst life ever is found. formally, they are granted permission to be sad. but only them. only they have earned it. no sads for anyone else at all ever
Bury all your secrets in my skin.
Come away with innocence
and leave me with my sins…
…and believe it or not, it was completely by accident.
So my friend and I are walking around the neighborhood, and it’s really not the best of neighborhoods. It’s the sort of area you wouldn’t want to live in if you could avoid it. It’s also a ‘hood that we’re completely unfamiliar with, so he and I were just wandering aimlessly around the block, exploring. I had brought down some Salvia that I had bought ages ago, and he and I were planning to try it.
I mean, after all, what’s the worst that could happen?
We sit down underneath a tree, and pull out the pipe. We put a small pinch of the stuff into the pipe and light it up. He goes first, then me. It was great. For about 5 minutes or so, everything was absolutely hysterical. But after 5 minutes, he and I are stone cold sober again. It kind of sucked; it felt cheap to be messed up one minute then sober again the next. So we pack up just enough to cover the bottom of the bowl, and since he went first last time, I went first this time. I put the pipe to my lips, light up, and I have just enough time to think to myself that the smoke is awfully harsh and unpleasant, and then…
…I don’t remember exhaling.
I remember falling. You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you fall backwards and nobody catches you? It felt like that. It felt like I was doing back flips in zero-gravity. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. Every time I spun around once another layer was stripped away and with each spin I went faster. I remember rainbows of impossible colors that that don’t exist and each layer was stripping away as I twisted and spun uncontrollably in a space with no gravity and no rational rules.
I woke up three hours later, still sitting under the tree, and for a few precious seconds I remember grabbing for my friend’s shoulder before I slipped back. I was Inception 500 layers deep and the more I tried to claw my way back the further down I fell. It was like being underwater and trying to swim up to the surface but realizing that you don’t even know which way IS up and you’re so far down there isn’t any sunlight.
I woke up in my friend’s lap and for a couple of seconds I stared up at him, and realized I had absolutely no idea how I’d gotten there. I tried to tell him something but my tongue wouldn’t move. I desperately tried to communicate to him to keep me safe or take me to a hospital or something, but no words came out. I remember that I was panting and breathing like I’d just sprinted a marathon. My heart rate was out of control and I was terrified of having a heart attack and dying in my friend’s arms.
It was at this point I knew I’d fucked up and done too much.
I slipped in and out for at least another hour and a half in my friend’s lap. I lived entire lifetimes in my head where I would get up, go home and get married and live a long, fulfilling life, but each time I thought it was over and I was finally going to die, I woke up in his lap again. I vaguely remember my friend asking if I was okay. I don’t remember answering.
Did I mention that during all of this, there was Mexican Mariachi music playing down the street? Do you have any idea how much that shit fucks with you when you’re tripping?
Everything I remember after that is fragmented. Trying to sit up. Ripping my glasses off my face and throwing them away. Taking my jacket off for some reason. I remember leaning over a wall, explaining to my friend that there was no way that I was going to drive home in the state I was in. I wanted to be in my bed so I could go insane comfortably but I was at least 25 minutes away by car, and I knew I’d never make it.
I remember my friend and I walking around the block a couple times, and each time we did, I felt a little bit more like myself. After two or three times around, I looked at my watch.
It had only been 10 minutes. 10. Minutes.
By the time I got home, I was stone cold sober again, if you could call it that. I still wasn’t sure if this was real or another one of my imagined lifetimes.
Do I recommend salvia?
Nigga… humanity as a whole has no business taking drugs this strong. Stay away if you value your sanity; it takes a pretty strong mind to survive this stuff.
But hey, even if you do way too much and O.D., it’ll only last 15 minutes maximum. There’s something to be said for that.
Reblogged from leedaygo
“When Kurt Cobain was alive he was known as the mysterious, quiet rocker. When he died he was known as a depressed drug addict. Kurt Cobain didn’t use drugs because the drugs used him. I don’t think anyone who knew him personally saw him the way the media portrayed him. Did the media ever mention that after a show was over he would sit in the tour bus and write back fan mail? He would try to answer at least thirty letters a night. In 1993, the media never reported the story of Kurt Cobain visiting a fan who wrote him [Kurt Cobain] a letter and asked him to come see her before she died of Cancer. They [the media] never forgot to remind everyone that he had demons though. Don’t listen to what you might have heard from the media. Kurt Cobain loved every single fan he had. He just couldn’t deal with being put on a pedestal that he was constantly afraid of falling off of.”
Reblogged from leedaygo
you guys i opened a door to let the dogs out and a fucking spider ran across my foot inside and then i was screaming and my mom dropped a plastic bowl on it to not let it run away and then it fUCKING GAVE BIRTH ON THE FLOOR IN THE BOWL AND THEN WE WERE BOTH SCREAMING
WHAT DO I DO
ITS STILL IN THE BOWL AND ITS JUST HAVING MORE BABIES
IT DROPPED MORE BABIES
MY DADS LIKE GASSING THEM WITH SPRAY AND ITS STILL GIVING BIRTH
YOU GUYS THOSE ARE ALL BABIES
FUCK MY LIFE
There is only one solution:
Life damages everyone, in one way or another. It’s inevitable. We were never meant to last. We are bound to destruction, to decay. Never to enter Eden again. In many ways, we’re like mirrors. We reflect our circumstances, our experiences, our lives onto the rest of the world. And, like mirrors, like glass, we break.
For some people, they get lucky. They get smudged. Fingerprints all over them. Maybe some kid draws in dry erase markers all over them. Graffiti. Stick figures and misspelled words. Inane little ramblings and drawings that ultimately mean nothing to anyone.
Other people get cracked. Clefts and crevices spiderweb their way through the surface of the glass and leave it fragile. Ready to snap, to break, to shatter at any moment. Life leaves them vulnerable. Afraid. Anxious. Their angles are all wrong. They hide and desperately try to cover up and fit in and be loved, but the damage is… irreparable.
Then come the worst of all. Those who’ve been broken down completely. Thrown to the floor. Shattered. Defeated by life. They were beautiful people who should have been protected. They didn’t know how to defend themselves the way you or I do. They were pure, innocent, and ultimately… evanescent.
To me, they’re the most tragic of all. It breaks my heart when I see them, because most of the time they don’t even want to be fixed. They don’t know how. Life has broken them and they don’t understand why. They are broken glass. Try to pick them up, and you’ll cut yourself. They viciously defend themselves when it’s the worst thing they can do.
We’re all damaged, in one way or another. We’re all broken glass. We all cut those who get too close to us, the people we care most about, the people who deserve it the least. That saying, how you always hurt the ones you love, well, it goes both ways.
Grab hold of the good things in life, and never let go. They’re few and far between.