It started as a dream. The frequent one. The one I dreamed all the time. The whir of explanations. The scribbles of the pen on prescriptions. There was no time to actually see them, rather a fax or a phone call. I pay the bill. $25. It had me all up in arms with the times, but I got through them somehow. Half of one. A full one. Don’t mix it with the energy drink. Don’t drink Gatorade while sitting down. Just don’t do it. Rather do as your told. So I keep them in a pocket. I keep them the safest in the pocket. I remember that day about a month ago. Arguing with the pharmacist. Yelling. I was fucking yelling just saying I needed them now and that I couldn't pay if my insurance didn't work. I didn't get paid till the 23rd, like what could I do? My first dilemma as an "adult". The doctors office was just downstairs, but I couldn't look her in the eye without feeling like i had to tell her something. She has nerve to come in my store and act like nothing ever happened. The toxic that came from my mouth, my brain. The toxic shit in my bloodstream. She knows. I know she knows. And when she leaves she crawls back to her place downstairs. My breaks are now spent avoiding. I can't see it walk around all the time. A confidence displaced. I sit on my break and think about all the things I've ever done wrong. How this is payment for those times. Every single shitty thing I've ever done has come back and punched me in the face. They've spit on me. I felt the pain, the humiliation. I learned in the middle of passing in and out of consciousness that it was never about the fact that it was always public. It was never about perfection or the past. It was about how I could hurt them so blatantly. How could someone who cared for them hurt them so much? See now, it boggles my mind. But all those people have found a way to get back at me. I've lost track if we're even yet. Then again none of this really matters anymore, right?
But when you are under the 200 km mark, remember: you can always turn back. Right away. Always. It’s no real waste if you leave now, as opposed to going and coming home less alive then ever. You'd come home so under the weather, depressed more then ever, then ever, then ever and ever. And though recording the rate of decay is tedious, predictions can then be made. It’s all going according to plan. Foolish games are played. Rematches are less and less occupied. The music all happy. The maps all clear and defined. I know where I’m going, I know where I’ve gone. I know how long it takes to get somewhere. I know how to break someone down. I know how to control people. I also know how to react to bad news that is given. Furrow the brow, change your lanes. When you see the things that throw you off, even in the same city, it still puts your head in your hands.
But then you look up again and it’s fine. It’s nothing, just an echo. It’s not even on your mind anymore, right? Tell yourself something. Make sure you tell yourself something.
Oh. So you chose to go the 400 km. The 800 km, really. Didn’t think of it that way, did you? But you have music. You have music you haven’t listened to in a long time. It made the car ride harder. But then it made it better, because you know all the words. You didn’t think you could sing along, but you did and it felt just fine. So you just run through the list again. Rationalize it for a while. The pro’s and con’s. the plus and the minus’ of schizophrenia(?). The minutes remaining, the hours recording. Did you realize I wasn’t there at all? I wasn’t even looking? You took the 800 km over everything else and this is what you get. We know you’ll roll your eyes when you compromise the spider’s web of messed up heads. It’s not graphic or even cryptic faces, just people getting anxious, their foundations failing. You’ve got a squinting way of loving people, almost there but never real. Hallucinations mounting with your eyes half closed. And then softly, the music’s playing. You can’t hear it yet but you know what you’d hear. A call for RSVPs, a need for it to be locked away, destroy the key. The polls are closed, the votes are in. It’s what I predicted even though I voted different. Not even one, maybe next time. One of life’s set faiths about to begin. That faith as promised to the particular party. They didn’t win anything but I’ll stick with them, the green. I'm sitting concerned upon my couch, thinking of the months ahead, their failing economy. I wonder how it will change things, when people from the states can't throw as much shit around. Trends will change, generations will get worse but then better with time. Until this phases out. Until we deal with the obsession of want. But regardless of the corrupted youth today, there are still residual likable quality's in everyone. It's forced and stressed at best. But it's in the shade of summer time where we accept who will stay with us. So who cares who they are? Why do you have to care who they are?
This leaves me half on the line of wrong and right. I only know so much, can only see so much in the time that I’m given. I’m all for hard hitting exits, always have been, always will. But sometimes I find myself just sitting. It could only be for a mere five minutes but it’s stuck in the back of my mind, all of the time, reminding me, all of the time. Hundreds of times, thousands of time. I knew when I stopped counting I was fine. I know when I use it now in different context I'll be better.
It was more like I was in the corner while they were busy talking, freaking out at the mention. In the back room, bored with the screens, with the same scenes all of the fucking time.
