So I haven't really tried to write in a long time. I thought I would take some input or life or I was just too fucking lazy to do anything, mode. So I drank a bit, got hammered dog shit drunk, a few times, then turned my life completely into hermitsville. I work, I come home and hang out for a few, go to my Ma'am cave, smoke some pot and hit the yoga for an hour or more....because I can. Notice there wasn't a phone call nor a," I'm going to hang out with so-and so because it's Tuesday"...no. I don't hang out anymore and mainly because of all the hustle and shit you have to maintain and talk about and socializing. I am done with the whole," Where are you from? What do you do? Who do you know at this party? Wanna go fuck in the bathroom", that type of thing. By the way, no one ever says that shit or I would get laid more often. People aren't personal any longer. Conversations that use to hold merit no longer drive up a stinking conversation let alone grab anyones attention. People today need instant gratification. Give me now! Gibe me more! Give me everything you got and then some, but the beast keeps crying louder and louder and louder.
This is exactly what I am saying, my head goes five millions places when I don't pay attention and write, shit goes ape shit! My mind will have one story to tell you but there's is this other interesting story that ties into the first story which will explain the second and third story, if you are patient we will all get though this. It is that very moment when I want to shoot my own head up my own ass. I know I know I am smarter than what I am writing but I truly can not stop. Jibberish is just running a muck. I had a point and now it has me...again. Not sure if anything I say makes sense but the point I am trying to make is that I have written in a ling time an dam mow finding out that I really am not writing towards anything or any specific goal so.....why the fuck do I write? I do not know anymore. I use to write to get all the anger out that kept me from being me around anyone. I kept fucking myself over and over and didn't realize that I am already fucked. Spitting out garbage just to hear the sound of anyone's voice other than my own and revoking the strange company who would have been good company. Here I am again telling you how anti-social I have become and you can't imagine why? I am trying to figure some shit out. I have these things in my head that tell me to....wait, that's not right. I've heard these things say to me...
Are they still listening?
This is exactly what I am saying, my head goes five millions places when I don't pay attention and write, shit goes ape shit! My mind will have one story to tell you but there's is this other interesting story that ties into the first story which will explain the second and third story, if you are patient we will all get though this. It is that very moment when I want to shoot my own head up my own ass. I know I know I am smarter than what I am writing but I truly can not stop. Jibberish is just running a muck. I had a point and now it has me...again. Not sure if anything I say makes sense but the point I am trying to make is that I have written in a ling time an dam mow finding out that I really am not writing towards anything or any specific goal so.....why the fuck do I write? I do not know anymore. I use to write to get all the anger out that kept me from being me around anyone. I kept fucking myself over and over and didn't realize that I am already fucked. Spitting out garbage just to hear the sound of anyone's voice other than my own and revoking the strange company who would have been good company. Here I am again telling you how anti-social I have become and you can't imagine why? I am trying to figure some shit out. I have these things in my head that tell me to....wait, that's not right. I've heard these things say to me...
Are they still listening?
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