You were a child who was made of glass.
You carried a black heart passed down from your dad.
If somebody loved you, they’d tell you by now;
We all turn away when you’re down.
I had a dream. I awoke from it only hours ago. I can’t sleep again. I feel asleep virtually early. After I got off SL when Philosopher signed off, I sighed and signed off and just laid here on the ground of my study thinking about the things I should’ve thought about a month ago. So many things left unsaid. So many things I didn’t do. I retired to my room. Where I lied in the dark and thought some more before drifting away into a sleep.
In my dream, I was on a boat with a man I’ve never seen before. He was taller, white and bearded. His hair was salt and pepper and he smelled of cheap cologne. A smoker. His teeth were yellowed like his finger nails. His accent thick when he spoke. I was younger, perhaps in better health. Long hair. Glasses. Pale. My hands were stained by paint and pencil. He looked through something I created, a book. He looked up and smirked.
“For such a patriotic kid, how do you manage to draw the antiAmerican flag so well?”
And then I woke up.
It’s 5:17 in the morning and I’m still pondering words. I’m wondering what this is really for. I’m thinking about way too many people at a loud frequency in my mind. I’m thinking about Philosopher; I’m thinking about Jyg; I’m thinking about Jenn; thinking about Alice; thinking about people I haven’t thought about in years. I’m thinking that maybe, in a few minutes, I should walk my ass to the nearest gas station and buy myself a pack of cigarettes because I need something. I need something to do with my hands. I need to work. I need to ignore that I have a BA in English, give up on writing, give up on thoughts, give up on potential and work with my hands. Build. Fix. Destroy.
I’ve never been a man in my life. Never lived up to social stigma and I’m not saying that’s high time that I did, but I am saying that everyone has to do something out of character and doing manual labor will be greatly out of character. I’m weak. I hate myself. I love myself. I am so tattered with the whole ideals of life. And listening to music, I’m just becoming to realize that I’m so out of touch with my own emotions. Until I hear a song like “That’s Okay” by The Hush Sound, or “Boy in the Anorak” by Little Man Tate, or “Farewell Ride” by Beck. I always get so emotional when I’m listening to music.
I haven’t felt as human as I do at this moment.