Sounds like you’re having a bad day

August 11, 2010 § Leave a comment

My brother turned 19.

Nine-fucking-teen.

And I am still 23, still listening to the Who Framed Roger Rabbit soundtrack, getting a buzz in my head from some wine and grass, still getting slightly upset that I have no friend that call me to say “what’s up”, still think of solely myself and absolutely no one else, still dedicate myself to a physical exercise that will calm me down and touch base with earth (7AM yoga sessions, let me tell you), still take insane pleasure from eating, still can’t get turned on by any male species that walk around, still think of herself as superior to most of what is out there, still stubborn, still a loner, a solo flier.

When I was 19, I was passing out on strange couches and not being able to find my way home. I was 19 when I had my first black-out (it was probably when I was 18, but can’t remember, ya know). I had my first real- kisses, got high on classical music, sang with strangers in smelly dorm rooms, snorted Adderral like it was some fucking bullshit, stayed up night after night insisting on watching the sun rise, wrote on my lonesome diary on cold stranded nights in a forgotten city about how fucking lonesome I was. Prayed for my soul-companion (still do), and prayed that I would magically craft myself a life oh so fcking magical.

When I was 19, I dyed my hair black and chopped it myself. I changed my body size every week, and my psychological state every minute. When I was 19, I fell in love with my film teacher and even wrote a song about it. I fell in love with the visual representations of images and people and music and words, I fell in love with my visual representation of it all.

I wouldn’t call myself naive then, I was certainly not as naive until now. When I can insist on fooling myself that there is such a life as becoming a practical slave to someone who is doing things I don’t believe in. When all the time I can spare for myself is those few minutes in a crowded room full of breath sounds, sweating on my tired, disappointed body and those other few minutes when I am washing off my tears now mixed with human perspiration. I suppose I do get a kick out of the simple pleasures in life. But I am still disappointed in most humans, have absolutely no hope for the future (especially now with the ridiculous climate change and this goddamn humidity) cannot even get off of absolutely anyone or anything. Including the fall line of almost every designer. Okay, the last one was a lie.

But, I am still disappointed in y’all.

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