a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








memories


When I think back at my past there�s so much stuff that I can�t remember, then there�s so much more that I�ll never forget. I write what comes from my heart. I write what flows off of my brain like honey. I don�t know where it comes from. I see things in my head. I relive memories. Hot summer nites, bright flashing lites. Metal flying through the air, screams of excitement. Popcorn, pizza, sweat. Salt water. Games, love, loneliness. These are the stories of my life. The thousand balls of yarn that have raveled up and out for seventeen years. There�s someone out there knitting a giant blanket. A blanket full of hell, hate, heaven, bliss, infinite sadness, and boundless ecstasy. One day I will curl up in it for an eternal sleep, but until then, I just keep running as fast as I can and following the patterns. I beg forgiveness for my sins and then commit them again, a million times again. I pray for the pain to stop and then inflict it on myself when I find relief. I find solace in sleep and dreams and I squint at the lite of day. I take a breath of fresh air and then fill my lungs up with toxins. I live the good life. I take medication. I�m delusional. Psychotic. I fall in love with ideas and hate reality. I can see fire for miles on a cool autumn nite. Mountains. Flash lites, running, laughing, singing, I smell beer, two kegs. Roasting marshmallows, I wait for a lie. I�ve completely lost touch with reality but hope for a perfect and normal life.


written on 2002-12-11 at 8:05 p.m.

she / lost