#writtenmadness

I need to get some cash out before I get the boat to Morocco, four days I gotta last, so I do a quick bit of mental maths (this much on food, that much on ponchos, no alcohol so subtract THAT), eighty pounds, sounds about right. So, type in the pin, eighty pounds, insufficient funds, ooo, sixty, that’ll be fine, Morocco’s cheap, insufficient funds, forty that’ll be fine, right, right? Insufficient. Fuck. Twenty. Ten!? This is gonna be a rough few days. I arrive at Morocco and the only thing I’m sure of is the gravel under my feet and the €8.56 in my pocket. I have no idea where I am really, apparently Tangier Port isn’t in Tangier. So I go over to an official lookin’ guy and ask if there’s a bus service, ‘No. Taxi.’ Shit. Taxi. I can’t afford a taxi. Guy in a poncho comes over, 'Hey. Taxi? Taxi!?’ 'Errmm’, next thing I know I’m in the back of a taxi with 4 other people one more in the front and start off on a forty-five minute journey towards the town. No seatbelts. We arrive into the town and are thrown out, luckily it worked out at about two euros only. Guy approaches me, gets real close, says he’ll carry my bag for me, show me to my hostel. 'Nonono I’m fine’ on I march ignoring him, he’s saying the name of my hostel, says he knows the way, takes me about five minutes to shake this guy in the maze that is Tangier. Now he’s gone I can regroup, take a look around, see where I’m at, wait, hang on. Shittt. Map’s gone, hostel info, gone, I have no idea where I am or where I’m supposed to be.

Sometimes I just want to take my life, but out of fear and an unjustified lifetime I don't. I've fostered a kind of habit that somehow brightens my mood, not instantaneous, but it works sometimes. If you knew me in real life, I'm an odd mix of bleakness and doom, and smiles and wisecracks.

I've lived with frustration all my life. I've seen myself as a failure despite my full knowledge that I'm better than some. But because my parents think so, I opt to believe the same sometimes. Sometimes the frustrations weight in a bit too heavy that I choose to ignore everything. During these times, when things get rough, I just say fuck you inside my head. 

Now, if only death was an easy answer  I would've committed myself to it. But no, I have vengeance still to serve to the people I hate, to the world, and to the people who loved me, and betrayed me in their own little ways. 

I believe in a goddess that spreads love in my head and dilutes my heart with sweet emotions.

I believe in a being greater than me with uncertainty, but I believe that the universe in itself is a living entity -- greater than me, greater than you.

I believe in a goddess whose lips are closed, rosy, and has a hint of nicotine. That in one kiss from her I will miss my problems, delusions, and world-weariness.

I believe in the cosmos, the oneness of you, me, and everyone else. That everything happens based on what we want and what we deserve. 

Throw it out the window so it could finally die and rest in peace. It's been with you for a long time now and you haven't learned a single thing about things coming and going. You have to learn how to let go -- if you must, learn to let go in an instant

Sentimentality stirs different things inside your head. The what-ifs, could-have-beens, and the nostalgia-driven depression. I tell you now, sentimentality is the worst thing you could ever keep in a box, in your room, right beside your bed. 

Remembering is only good for short-lived moments in our life. Like when we're drunk, high, or just wasted with no good reason. Because in these situations we have an excuse, albeit an unacceptable one, we still get through and move on.

So for the rings, vials of blood, dried rose petals, and other unique nostalgia bombs in your closet – let go of them. Discard the things that remind you of the past. Let all the things that happened to you in the past, either good or bad, stay in your memory alone not through the things you see every day.

There's something different when you're riding a car or an old hand-me-down pick-up, with the windows rolled down and the wind gushing against your hands, your face, and disturbing the smoke you blow off your mouth. 

You feel a certain freedom that no one in the world can deny you. As if all governments have been torn down and society just sleeps as you roll past asphalt and bridges. The feeling is enigmatic, it's far from being ecstatic, gleeful, or even orgasmic. It just feels different. If only freedom had a synonym that isn't political by nature, I could have used it here. 

No. I believe the film "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" has defined true freedom in it's most individual and perfect definition -- Infinite. You feel infinite more than any thing or concept in this world when you're running it the way you want.

Infinite; the vastness of the world, the dark void that is the night, the light blue of the afternoon skies -- these are things that lighten up our eyes; our souls. We burn just to be on a place that is infinite and void of culture, society, or government.