it happened like this...
after the break up.
what a way to start.
after the break up.
look, i left you hard, like an open handed hit, caught awkwardly first on the edge of the jaw, then pulled quickly across the face. I left you like that. hard. because i stopped, right then, caring. i started the biggest "art" project of my life, to become a stupid faggot. and here i sit almost two years later at 2:20 am on my roomate's bed, anxiety ridden over money, biting my nails, literally biting my nails, the curtain-dimmed-streetlights and early morning truck/taxi/streetperson sounds falling in through the thin plastic windows. Yeah I'm alive and dumb. Today I became a wizard, truly, I decided that I didn't know a thing about me, or my future (how vague, how vague) and that my body was like magic, it could turn into money if I let it, while I have it. So I couldn't stop smiling. And now though it's just a few hours before I have to get up and shave my face, and shower, and put on make up so I can ride a midday bus full of fags and free booze to a resort where I'll lipsynch poolside to some awful musics that I only perform as an act of torture on my audience, and I guess myself). I'm awake and thinking that maybe even though I'm a wizard with no future and no identity, maybe I just came back to me, to three years ago before the project, before the dumbing down, and the stupifying. Maybe I'm back to there. To some kind of real place, some kind of place where I care, and by care I mean, like not out of anxiety of compulsion (vague vague vague) but out of actual interest. Because I can stand myself, and being alone with me.
Which is funny bc becoming a stupid faggot has made me rather alone, despite my inability to cope with being alone. Do you get what I'm saying?
Ok. So you are still there, and I want back at you. I want back at the interestingness. Not because it's better or more actual or more real than this "stupid faggot" thing/life, but because it's just where I come from. From you. Get it now? Will you take me back? Can I cross over?
Can I?
what a way to start.
after the break up.
look, i left you hard, like an open handed hit, caught awkwardly first on the edge of the jaw, then pulled quickly across the face. I left you like that. hard. because i stopped, right then, caring. i started the biggest "art" project of my life, to become a stupid faggot. and here i sit almost two years later at 2:20 am on my roomate's bed, anxiety ridden over money, biting my nails, literally biting my nails, the curtain-dimmed-streetlights and early morning truck/taxi/streetperson sounds falling in through the thin plastic windows. Yeah I'm alive and dumb. Today I became a wizard, truly, I decided that I didn't know a thing about me, or my future (how vague, how vague) and that my body was like magic, it could turn into money if I let it, while I have it. So I couldn't stop smiling. And now though it's just a few hours before I have to get up and shave my face, and shower, and put on make up so I can ride a midday bus full of fags and free booze to a resort where I'll lipsynch poolside to some awful musics that I only perform as an act of torture on my audience, and I guess myself). I'm awake and thinking that maybe even though I'm a wizard with no future and no identity, maybe I just came back to me, to three years ago before the project, before the dumbing down, and the stupifying. Maybe I'm back to there. To some kind of real place, some kind of place where I care, and by care I mean, like not out of anxiety of compulsion (vague vague vague) but out of actual interest. Because I can stand myself, and being alone with me.
Which is funny bc becoming a stupid faggot has made me rather alone, despite my inability to cope with being alone. Do you get what I'm saying?
Ok. So you are still there, and I want back at you. I want back at the interestingness. Not because it's better or more actual or more real than this "stupid faggot" thing/life, but because it's just where I come from. From you. Get it now? Will you take me back? Can I cross over?
Can I?
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