The boot of self-esteem is wedged in the small of my back.

I'm surrounded by normal people and all their normal routines that penetrate every facet of their goddamn lives and it's frightening, it's fucking unnerving, I don't wanna deal with the normal anymore. I don't wanna be here, paradise is calling my name it's way out west where the trees are real and the mountains are tall and weird is just the way things are. I wanna be back with the magick users and the nature freaks and the real potheads not these goddamn strung out psychos who are smoking as much as physically possible just to chase away the hideous demons that perch on their shoulders like it's a second fucking home... this is a savage place with the right kind of eyes, an ugly hole where god's hand is shoved either down your throat or up your ass and all you can do is smoke fuck drink destroy everything that composes you everything that makes sense nothing really adds up here it's all equations without proper closure all pieces that don't connect at all.
the real question here is how desparate are you to escape this place? what would you be willing to do in order to be quit of this miserable province and everything it stands for? Truthfully I would leave behind everything and everyone in order to see the road ahead get even a little bit shorter. I've built up this journey in my head into this huge beast that's going to gently lead me into some shangri - la devoid of anything resembling a problem. Yeah man, just get to kelowna and you'll get a job a girlfriend all that good shit that makes life so much more complex. It's ridiculous. True change, the kind of life-affirming thing by which so many self-help psychos swear, it starts from within. You wanna better job? Start looking for the fucking thing. A girlfriend? Start giving a shit about anyone else but you and we'll talk. Become the person that you dream of being instead of just dreaming it. Get your god damned head out of those fluffy white clouds and accept that this life and this world in which you live will be moved, much like the mountain, of your own volition only.

rain rain rain
storms to revive this life again
fail to fulfill in this vicious refrain
feelings of anguish rip through your brain
dry dead grounds to absorb the stain
rain rain rain

I want off but the attendant's dead.

We're not dead and it's not dying but that isn't the illusion talking that's the real deal, ya know? nothing i see is believable anymore, it's all too fantastic or too ridiculous to take in without a grain of salt, maybe a whole bag of the shit. It's like I'm on a slide, with everything visual whizzing by and blurring into a short list of acceptable colours and shapes, the end of this ride not only fast approaching, but my view of the chasm beyond is just swell, thank you very much. All the grips and handlebars are failing, they just break away at my touch, leaving scars of attempted control on the walls that rush away behind. Eventually I'm going to get to the gap, that huge hole in my understanding of this world I've crafted for myself, and I'm not even sure if the bloody thing has a bottom, let alone something I can survive encountering. Knowledge is power, right now I feel as weak as a newborn, all my superpowers temporarily revoked until further notice is posted.
I can't control this, but perhaps with a little bit of luck I can ride it out, land at the bottom with only a couple of scars.

F**k you society I wanna be DIFFERENT

call me hermit bob the introvert the incredible animal who can't even communicate properly but could let you in on the secrets of the whole goddamn universe if you're willing to listen. It's all about me this year it seems and I can't quite wrap my head around the concept. no one else seems to matter and I can't tell if it's selfishness or if it's just me learning some valuable and neccessary skills. This whole house is kinda fucked and I don't really care. Everything is kinda fucked... and I really don't care. I'm just so detached from all things occurring around me. Just music and visuals and brief bouts of glorious self-expression all manifesting in this ugly mess that doesn't really touch me. Maybe it's some kind of summer thing. I don't have time for the shit that can't captivate my attention without fail. if I walk a particular road for long enough then I'll just come to it's end, right? One more message of perseverance and persistence versus a staggering lack of motivation to do anything valuable with my fucking life simply out of a lack of desire in the most honest sense of the fucking word?
I could sit here all goddamn day and I think I might. Just listen to music and write and maybe read or something I'm not sure..
One day I will accomplish what I set out to do so many months ago...