Things have changed. Things have changed in ways that are beyond me, ways I can't even see and wouldn't want to see. Not that I've become a waste, but I do feel a waste in the sense that my condition has only brought on an onslaught of extra feelings, guilts, secrets and stories. Then there are other ways in which I have changed for the best. For one, I've chosen to hate Anthony with all my heart and soul. I've chosen to move on to someone else, someone I didn't even know could exist. Now it's only a ridiculous mess in my path when I think of how I could've praised, defended and loved Anthony. After all..."The more I think of you, the more and more I realized I never loved you." You would never even begin to know how much that hurt...and how much I don't even care anymore. What a jump that was. But at least it's for the better. If only I knew what I was saying.
It's not in the figurative. I know what I mean, what I want, WHO I want, what I dream and how I feel. Sitting with the guru always takes me off into some sort of paradise where the clouds may or may not be and where the air is only as fulfilling as the last. I have a feelings I'm writing the most beautiful poetic words I've ever interwoven. If only I could be so sure.
Last night I took a trip up to El Segundo to marvel at the Old Town Music Hall. Never before have I been trapped in a dream, then lo and behold it's almost as if I don't exist. How bizarre would it be if I didn't? Would I, in fact, "feed my head" if I went into some alternative space in which no creation besides my own existed. By doing something bizarre, would I open new doors? And how many would I have to open for myself before I began opening them for others?
Casablanca never felt better on my soil. The tragedy was never something I really considered when I was caught up in the romance of it. True, it breaks my heart every time she leaves him. Maybe it's that she's too much like me. Everything for me ends with a good-bye. Everyone lets go in the end. But is it not a good thing that I still have the will to grab on? It spins me around wondering how I have no fear of splitting my hand on these rocks. I worked up the word "hate," I took off into my fantasy in some spectacular otherwordly theater I'll never be able to explain to future generations.
How free my thoughts are. I have a twitch in one hand, a few in my knees, "White Rabbit" playing in the background and a few nauseating memories to fuel this attempt at a retelling and sinking hole of my imagination. I dare say, I hate this. I hate the whole freedom concept when it comes down to this. I'm trapped in my own head. So the basics are, I've learned how to turn love into hate, how to turn depression into skill and how to tread water as lightly as I possibly can. The only waste of time is myself and the things I've let myself do. Consider it done. There's only this...how can I learn from myself?
Feed your head.
No comments:
Post a Comment