Long days
The past 4 or 5 days have been filled with constant intoxication that attempting to break the days up would be insanely hard, being elevated from the moment of awakening to passing out, it’s a haze.
I made a flower of little dead buds, and it came out pretty. Here it is:
I don’t know where my minds been at these days. I’m writing this sitting at the hill baked at 7:30 just a few hours since waking up.
Man I’m just killing time until these guys come back so we can continue the sesh, and what else would I do but write?
Anyways, back in my room, just edited everything above, so I’m about to continue.
I just wrote a post on not being trusted, and now I’m getting this down. The past couple days I haven’t been writing because I’ve felt blank, but it’s easy to reply. Makes it easier to start writing (now whether or not, it’s because I know you’re reading this. Is a matter for later).
Since Tuesday, I’ve almost driven my body to it’s ends with my lungs just aching constantly. I’m all better now, think I’ve gotten used to it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to write, am I supposed to talk about being perpetually disheartened or am I supposed to be honest and say what started as a day I pulled myself out of my bed in pain, became a nice one. Even though it’s only 10:30 I’m done for the day, don’t think I’ll go out any later in the night, but let’s see.
These days there’s only one thing on my mind, even though I thought I had moved past it, quarantine really does salt the oldest wounds. Maybe it just exposes what hasn’t healed.
A couple nights back I spoke to a friend who asked me if I could ever be friends with people from my past, one particularly. I was genuinely left confused cause at first I was like “how?” I’ve burnt those bridges, but then I realised it’s both a yes and no. Sometimes I’m scared that if I’m able to separate the past from hope, I doubt my ability too at this point. Other times I know I can do it, without it ripping me into tiny pieces. I know I’m grown-up (for a lack of better words) and with that I know that relationship, was a friendship like I had never had, one filled with trust and respect (the trust bit is a little shaky now).
It really does drive you to the point where you constantly ask yourself, how the fuck do I heal? I don’t mean it in some romanticised way, fixing people isn’t worth it, when you’re not okay. I don’t know what it’s like to have an okay day, if I could consciously experience it I’d genuinely try and replicate it. I just can’t remember a time when it was okay other than the days where there was always an apple pie in my McDonalds’ order.
Today was nice though, a friend took this pic at the sesh:
I feel like watches are essential, at a time I don’t have my phone. I’ve started respecting their utility.
A Sane Undertaking 