impossible lives
1/1/07
we spent a lot of money, maybe a lot of time trying to get high.
i’m in the bedroom with my shirt half on, doing it again. chowing down a handful of hallucinogens i palmed over the summer when i was afraid we were all taking too many. sneezing, blowing powder out through my noise in a snotty clump, thinking shit--there goes fifty bucks, then remembering it was only a diet pill.
there are too many pills in my closet. there are too many shoes under my bed. i have a sink full of dirty dishes and a roommate who doesn’t wash them. a boyfriend who doesn’t call.
i feel really tight behind and between my eyes, i wonder if the diet drug and the shrooms are reacting weirdly, or fighting each other. it’s new year’s day: i’m listening to psapp’s “tiger, my friend” thinking it’s for sure the best album i’ve heard in a while.
my head definitely hurts now, my ears are ringing. i’ve lived on the the same street for two years. i am getting out of here soon.
i have too much shit lying around. things i like but don’t really use enough to justify owning. either that or i just wish i had my own place so i could keep it how i like it. barring that, i’ll just start giving things away.
i wanna fly. i swear i will. i realized that last night while jake stood me up. i have no business fucking around here. i need myself; that’s it. i need myself too much to be here--to be with him, watching the clouds curl into each other like thousands of jet trails.
impossible clouds. impossible lives.
i am getting out of here soon.
