This Post Will Not Make Sense to You

And as we come to end of perception. This two pathed precipice of right and wrong. I chew on a coffee KitKat and think of something else that does not matter.

Today I wanted to write some and thought I knew not what to write, I want to write what I don't know anyway. How do I feel?? So tired of asking this question and thinking that people noticing is going to make me happy.

I am sitting. I am reading. I am feeling the beer drain out of me and the sugar take over the veins in my legs and we sit (me, myself and I) and ponder the questions:

What are you going to do with your life and are you going to do it??
and
Will it matter??

Do you have to purchase approval from loved ones about the seal you make with your life?? What lines of consideration are worth crossing and which ones are worth crossing out?? Too many times does my mind wander to the wanderlust, the slash and burn of my scythe of cycnicism and the urge to pop 700M more Fukitol.

They know not of me and that is a good thing.
They know not of me so it is a bad thing.

I hate money.


Stomach gurgling and I step forward and backward in my world realizing that any minute I will slip into cha-chahing. Are the gods there and do they care but I know they are and I have left my scars on the altar of the past for consuption by the last person in my life who wants me "to be just like them." Run on. Run away.

It's not the holiday. It's not a fight. With the anonymity of the masks we have comes freedom of responsibility, consequence and growth. the yelling is closer and I go to the bathroom to shore up this bubble of silence. Do you believe that there was a time I was afraid to shit for more than 15 minutes in total.

I have often written of fear and it's fear of fearing my life. I have always made this vow, again and again. It's like reminding myself I have to clean the inside of my car. I'll do it tomorrow. Still waiting on all these things.

Like the wig on the back of a doorknob left too long after Halloween, the wonder grows if you wear it every day anyway just to get use out of it. Sounds of steps and the twisting "hi" and then "i'll leave you alone." I chase after my hope as she slams the door, saying "Goddamn it" under my breath in frustration of being misunderstood again. Or am I trying to please these ideas in my head again??

How far passed the edge can you go before you fall?? I guess it depends on whether or not you look down.

You will not understand this post. It will not make sense to you. It makes no sense to me. So I will just continue to be angry.