~Camphor

I just don't know
how a human
can trust anything.




Hi yall. I'm back (kind of). I guess I'm still not all there. I'm busy being Faust right now. Sold my soul (went to scad, the commercial, career-oriented tradeschool version of an art school. I wanted lofty artistic ideals, not pretty websites and thorough resume`s. Didn't realize that's what I'd get when I came here. No research, my fault). Photographers make money. Hope I can forgive myself. If I die tomorrow, what did I live for? Assurance of an upper-middle class income? I hope not.

Try as I might, I'll ever fail
to purge certain people
from my heart

My past,
a spectre that seethes a tsumani's arc
o'er my wet, shiverred shoulders,
across the shoreline of my back

The imp-eyed, nimble-fingered, woman from the hills
Said she was queen of the faeries
predicted the end of the world (there was Mayan lineage to her blood)
gave me green beads and a crystal
sold me a sweet peice for ten dollars
and packed its bowl with her very own stash
We smoked
In a golden Mushroom haze, She told me I had roots.
I have to believe her.

Fuck. I hate being grown up. I hate being used.
But,
I love weed. And weed loves me.
Brain-eating drugs, however, are a no-no. That means no more Coca-Cola for me.
Did you know that humans have receptors in the brain designed specifically for THC? It's meant to be, dude.

Maybe it's sad that my greatest accomplishment to date is my becoming a super stoner. Whatever.

I am lone-l-y. My friends treat me like a guest. I better find somebody to love.
But things will get better when I'm back in school. I'll be with people who want my company and I'll be learning.

woooo
What's wrong with me? I must be psycho. Wandering the dim, dusky suburban streets at night, chain-smoking and choking back virulent sobs as I contemplate my inescapable lonliness. Sheesh. Who does that? A depressed, anti-social, isolated, epileptic piece of shit. But at least I don't hate myself anymore.

The sunset-colored leaves tracing manic, shuddering spirals through the air above my lawn are graceful by default, beautiful beacause of the random whimsy of their descent. Today I watch them, and something clicks inside me, and I know, I just KNOW, that things are okay. That I'm not some creepy, deformed voyeur stealing forbidden glances at this lovely, harsh, and complicated world. I'm a part of it, just as much as those stupid orange leaves.

There's nothing like waking up in a pool of urine to the sound of your mother screaming, asking What The Fuck Is Up? and having a strange man answere, "You had an epileptic seizure. You're brain is scrambled, you can't even remember how old you are or what street you live on." And he was right. I barely knew my name. And the EMT's just kept yelling at me trying to make me admit I'd overdosed on coke or something. I wish, at least that would have been fun for a little while.

I'm not allowed to drive for the next six months. I can't move into my apartment. And I can't hang out with any of my friends at home because my sister was counting on me not being around her and her friends during the school year. Apparently she can't be free when I'm around. So I fucking hate life right now. Plus, the side effects of my anti-seizure medications are nausea, dizziness, double vision, and clumsiness.