silwtg
^^^ i hate that. i feel like the gay friend sometimes. i really do.
i'm really getting to be a lazy bastard with publishing this thing. if only intent had anything more to do with it. i've been sleeping early, waking early. up at 6, school at 8. worst part is, i think i'm getting used to it.
i had the most urgent dreams last night. i've been trying all day to remember them. i just keep the feelings, that's all. terrible, urgent dreams. i remember waking up after one of them thinking that it was the worst dream i've ever had.
one of them, there were people coming for me, surrounding our house, invading. it was late at night and the blinds in my room were barely cracked. i saw someone climbing a rope outside our house. when i was sure that's what it was, i flipped out and ran into my parents room to tell them about the intruder. there was this terrible sinking feeling in between rooms in the hallways like time was leaving a lot quicker than i was moving. i ran back into my room and grabbed my box of .22s and the rifle from behind my door, fumbling around with it. there were floodlights blistering my windows, lighting the room in black and white. trucks, soldiers outside, faceless as plastic army men. i don't really know what else happened.
the other, there was a girl in our house and no family. i don't know who she was and i don't think i'd ever met her before. she was panicking about something and i don't remember what it was. she had long dark hair and some kind of flowery blouse on, i think. crying a lot. i tried to make things better for her, calm her down, hug her, talk to her... i don't think anything worked. she was so scared. i remember once she asked what this bottle of face moisturizer was or how to work it. the top was twisted into the locked position. it was so cute. i don't know why i come up with these things. there was some great twist, a plot even. it was like i wrote it, like some short story. i don't understand how my mind can come up with this stuff, so perfect as it was. her fear terrorized me, though.
have i gotten any better? sometimes i think back to a couple years back, dealing with people. i was a crazy bastard. and i mean it, really bastardly. i can't believe some of the things i said or did. how you dealt with me i'll never know. i guess that's why we don't talk anymore. i still don't understand anything until far too late. i've tried to relax, not to freak out so much. i still torture myself, overanalyze. so i wonder. have i gotten any better? or am i just a different crazy bastard?
i'm sorry if i'm still the way i was.
i'm really getting to be a lazy bastard with publishing this thing. if only intent had anything more to do with it. i've been sleeping early, waking early. up at 6, school at 8. worst part is, i think i'm getting used to it.
i had the most urgent dreams last night. i've been trying all day to remember them. i just keep the feelings, that's all. terrible, urgent dreams. i remember waking up after one of them thinking that it was the worst dream i've ever had.
one of them, there were people coming for me, surrounding our house, invading. it was late at night and the blinds in my room were barely cracked. i saw someone climbing a rope outside our house. when i was sure that's what it was, i flipped out and ran into my parents room to tell them about the intruder. there was this terrible sinking feeling in between rooms in the hallways like time was leaving a lot quicker than i was moving. i ran back into my room and grabbed my box of .22s and the rifle from behind my door, fumbling around with it. there were floodlights blistering my windows, lighting the room in black and white. trucks, soldiers outside, faceless as plastic army men. i don't really know what else happened.
the other, there was a girl in our house and no family. i don't know who she was and i don't think i'd ever met her before. she was panicking about something and i don't remember what it was. she had long dark hair and some kind of flowery blouse on, i think. crying a lot. i tried to make things better for her, calm her down, hug her, talk to her... i don't think anything worked. she was so scared. i remember once she asked what this bottle of face moisturizer was or how to work it. the top was twisted into the locked position. it was so cute. i don't know why i come up with these things. there was some great twist, a plot even. it was like i wrote it, like some short story. i don't understand how my mind can come up with this stuff, so perfect as it was. her fear terrorized me, though.
have i gotten any better? sometimes i think back to a couple years back, dealing with people. i was a crazy bastard. and i mean it, really bastardly. i can't believe some of the things i said or did. how you dealt with me i'll never know. i guess that's why we don't talk anymore. i still don't understand anything until far too late. i've tried to relax, not to freak out so much. i still torture myself, overanalyze. so i wonder. have i gotten any better? or am i just a different crazy bastard?
i'm sorry if i'm still the way i was.
posted by sunshine at 10:46 PM
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