Buy me alcohol
and send me down the hall
so I can fake and fall
right down
again
again
again
I wanted to be
something to everyone
instead of what I am,
I mean nothing to anyone
I used to think
I was some kind of Kurt Cobain
I was gonna change the world
before blowing out my brains
but everything I do
keeps me afraid of death and you
there’s nothing that I want
so bad anymore.
Help me find a god
Sprawled out on your lawn
help me right the wrongs
right now
again
again
again
I used to be blind
but now I finally see
All the things I thought were wrong
were only wrong with me
I drink until I’m drunk
I sing until I’m sunk
there’s nothing that I want
so bad anymore
Kill me, I’m almost dead
but I don’t have a gun
Kill me, kill me again
isn’t this fun?
I don’t wanna be yours
I just wanna be fine
there’s all these open doors
so I am closing mine
there’s nothing in my room
and even less outside
what am I waiting for?
Why am I wasting time?
(Buy me alcohol)
Kill me, I’m almost dead
(Buy me alcohol)
But I don’t have a gun
(Buy me alcohol)
again
again
again.
[For context, this is the 21 Years Version because this is a song I worked from something I used to play in my band when I was 16. I’m 22 now, but 21 just rolls off the tongue better, so I stuck with that for the title. This is all the 16 Years Version was; It was played incredibly aggressive and the lyrics eventually devolved into inane punk-rock screaming. It was fucking fun to play.]
Oh, buy me alcohol
and send me down the hall
so I can fake and fall
right down
again
Help me find a god
Sprawled out on your lawn
help me right the wrongs
right now
again
again
again
They say I look
so sad and lonely
But I’ve got my
one and only
love
They say I feel
the way feel
because I love
the way I feel
drugged
and you can
stand right in my way
‘but no matter what
these thirty days
will end
and I will find
my way to sleep
and I will never
have to think
again
I don’t dream without you
don’t want to be without you
You’re the reason that I feel alive
every moment asleep with you feels so right
You’re the reason that I feel alive
Stay with me, every starless night
Apparently after taking my sleeping medicine last night, I had a nonsensical imaginary adventure in and around my bedroom. In my chaotic state of mind, I wrote down a description of what had happened that night. I’m going to post it here. I’m leaving in all of the typos, and I’m not correcting it at all. This reads terribly and it makes no sense at all whatsoever, but this is what I saw upon opening my laptop the next morning. Enjoy.
”
Last night, I came to, my face drenched in water. A moment later, my face was shoved back downwards, and my senses were dulled by water pouring everywhere. At one point, I felt free. There was no one behind me. Someone urged me on and through some doors; I was met with bright light and a place I couldn’t recognize short of a vague sense that this was something I used to know. A few stumbly steps later (I was blinded by the light, it seems to have been to much for me) and I was in a bathroom. My bathroom. What was going on? Where was I, and what were these people doing here? I couldn’t tell you, but I could tell you that making it back to the previous room from the bathroom tooko a considerable nnumber of tries. As my lives counter neared zero, I opened the door, fell onto what appeared to be my own bed and let blackness fill my vision. I don’t know if I was posoned, or if I was just exaughsted, but my body clearly couldn’t take another step. someone would explain to me what was happening, eventually right? When vision filled my eyes again, I was surrounded by small fluffy animals. there was music playing; I was dressed in red. Everything seemed to be going spectacularly. Considering the disaster that I had felt just prior to this, this was dowbright incredible. I turned to ask a question of the fluffy beings beside me, and they immedately scurry away. They scurry far, far away, and when they’re gone, I can’t even recall an image of them any longer, let alone what they looked like. My bed is covered in nothing but pillows now. But that should satisfy. It satisfys me, It shuld satisfy the king. I am the king passes through my head as a close my eyes again. I was recieiving letters from my suppoters at all hours of the day. It was incredible. I had never felt true confidencelike this before, knowing that I was doing the right thing… whatever that was. What eactly have I accomplished since then? And as that thought passed through my head, I was overcome. Had I been poisoned? the coughs would not stop coming out. My subjects acted as though nothing was going on. Treasonous bastards! I coughed and coughed until I realized the severity of the situation, making it for the door to my kingdom and diving for the wrld outside. That was wasn’t eactly in great shape, but I didn”t have time to dwell on it. I made it to the one room that truly stood out from every other part of this night, and coughed until a relentless torrent of vomit gushed out of my mouth into the toilet below. I wasn’t missing, at least. The subjects around me were nodding in approval. I don’t know why. I felt like I was losing something, so sort of attachemnt to this world. The next one didn’t come as easily. I gagged on it’s way up, giving me a small window of time where I couldn’t breathe at all. Then when I could, the burning sensation was instense and extreme. ALl of my subjects had left, there seemed to be only one other person with me. He helped me get the rest of it out, then he was gone too. I was in my bathroom. The one four steps down the hallway from my room. I was half wearing a blanket over myself, but in an attempt to look regal, I wasn’t even really covering the essentials, there. It was okay, though, no one was awake. I got up, left the bathroom, realizing that this stumbling was not the result of poisoning, but probably the result of my sleeping medication. I was in a dirty halway that really needed to clean up. So yeah, not a place that was in great shape, I guess. I opened to dorr to my room. nothing weird here, which was the weirdest thing of all. My pillows were scattered around my bed in a strage way, but otherwise, it was almoost ready for me to try again. Maybe this time I’d stay asleep.
I did manage to seee everyone one last time as I drifted off. They were… having a barbeque, I think.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.rbjlhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr wzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZa”
I fell asleep at the keyboard, apparently. I must have woken up again and put it away, because it wasn’t open when I woke up for the day. I have no idea if I actually threw up or not. Knowing myself, I probably did.
By the way, I normally don’t get side effects like this on Ambien. Normally I sleep soundly through the night. This was a freak occurrence, so if you’re worried about my safety in regards to this medication, don’t. Ambien and I go very well together, and I am oddly responsible with it, considering my drug history an its potential for abuse.
Anyways, here is my observation of the events of that night, as told by a sane and sober person.
“I woke up, and I was drenched with sweat. I was wobbly from my medication, so I fell back onto my pillow, which was also drenched. Gross. I wish I could do something about that. I had to pee, and that knowledge was accompanied by a vague inclination that I should leave my room anyway. I did, and stumbled down the hallway, nearly slamming myself into all sorts of walls and counters in the process. I may have also been stark naked throughout all of this. I peed, and then tried to make it back to my bedroom, but it was much, much harder this time. I was having so much difficulty walking that I eventually began to crawl. When I made it to my door, I pulled myself up by the handle and let myself in, and immediately lost my balance and fell onto the bed. At this point, I may have fallen back asleep for a small period of time. When I awoke again, I was surrounded by my pillows and covered by my brown, not red, blanket. I felt an intense amount of confidence in my delirium, a well-known side effect of taking Ambien. I then started having one of my coughing fits. I’ve been having them for months now, and I really need to see a doctor, but I keep putting it off. This coughing fit was particularly bad, and it triggered my overly-sensitive gag reflex, causing me to rush to the bathroom where I let out huge amounts of half-digested microwavable meals. Gross. Since I was already vomiting, I figured I might as well go all the way with it instead half-assing it and leaving myself with a vague sick feeling for the rest of the night. I forced out some more, but it didn’t come all the way out, so instead I started choking on the burning air of acid-reflux. That sucked. Eventually I did finish puking, though. I slowly become more conscious of reality at this point, and realized that while I was covered up by my blanket, I hadn’t really bothered to actually cover up. I was essentially tripping all over myself and puking whilst completely naked in the upstairs of my house. Weird. I went back to my room and laid down and went back to sleep, waking up another time to attempt to document these events, but failing in a hilarious manner.”
I recorded myself playing guitar and singing while too under the influence of sleeping medication to be successful. It’s… really bad. It’s ridiculously honest, but it’s so goddamn bad. There are actually bits and pieces of ideas in there, both music-wise and lyrics-wise that could be worked into something usable, which is why I left the device recording, but man, most of it is utter trash.
I did eventually get to bed, after some stumbly fun attempting to walk to the bathroom. Then my dreams were fucking awesome. I dreamed I was high as kite, and in this dream, it was all upside, no downside. Basically my dream consisted of me just feeling awesome as fuck. The only dreams that beat that are dreams where I get to fly (or even jump really, really high) or dreams where I get to see an attractive person remove their clothes when I’d never get to see that happen in real life. Honestly, this “high as fuck” dream ties for either of those. It’s only beaten by a dream that has both.
And then the usual shit happened, which is why I’m typing this up right now: I woke up three hours later, about halfway through getting a decent amount of sleep. It’s a bummer, really. If I had stayed asleep, there’s a chance that I’d feel refreshed tomorrow (for once) which would be super cool.
That said, I still feel the lingering effects of the Ambien, and it feels good. It’s rare that the drug does anything more than knock my ass out, so these nights that it takes things a step further are a real treasure. I get to feel high without doing anything wrong. Too bad it only happens once every few months. then again, maybe that’s a good thing? I don’t know. But tonight has been good, despite the whole “I’m gonna feel like shit in the morning” thing I’ve got going on.
All of these great things happen to me in my dreams. I don’t have nightmares (often). I have dreams about the things I wish actually happened, in spite of the stupidity of wishing for them. I have dreams about the things I want, but I tell myself I don’t want because I am so self-conscious, even to myself.
I’ve had so many dreams about falling in love. Its ridiculous. Last night, I had a dream that I had an incredibly adorable stalker who I immediately fell head over heels for. Now, it was also filled with the typical dreamy surrealism that accompanies everything when your asleep, so almost everything else about the fake situation is now incomprehensible. (Something about colors, and teams, and the teams and I were somehow involved even though I wasn’t on one, and this stalker person that I loved was on a one-person team and she had some sort of connection to the color blue, I have no fucking idea how to make any sense of that nonsense.)
I also had a dream about this blog appearing on TV. No, I’m not joking. Now it was in completely the wrong format, and it wasn’t even named properly, so my normal brain started thinking this was all bullshit, but it was quickly overridden by my excitement about the fake event. I was sharing it with everyone, and it was so stupid.
God, I wish the things I really wanted weren’t so goddamned dumb. I wake up feeling a bit euphoric from all the happy things that happened, and then I immediately realize how fucking idiotic all of it was, and how stupid I am for enjoying it. It’s so dumb. It’s so fucking dumb that it makes all of the unbelievably high people I met in New York look smart. God dammit. I’d feel less stupid if I was sitting on a train shouting about how I loved everyone on the train and asking somebody’s dad for money.
I have often dreamed
of a far off place
where a great warm welcome
will be waiting for me.
Where the crowds will cheer
when they see my face
and a voice keeps saying
this is where I’m meant to be.
-Go the Distance, Hercules
Hercules is my favorite Disney animated movie. I think it’s extremely underrated. Sure, it definitely doesn’t follow the actual myth, but it’s a beautiful story. I watched the movie as a child and thought “I want to be just like him someday.”
A hero. A true hero, as the movie would say.
I don’t know if that really exists in this middle-class twenty-something life I’ve got going on. Who am I going to save, especially when I feel like I’m the one who needs saving most of all?
My dad isn’t a Greek god. My dad is a carpenter. I don’t have super strength. All I have is a bunch of ideals that are slowly shattering before my eyes as I wait for miracles that I don’t believe in to fall at my feet.
I wish I could be like Hercules. Maybe not the one from the myth, as that Hercules is kind of a prick, but the Disney-fied one. I wish I could help save everyone, and then give up everything I was working so hard towards for the sake of love. It’s so cheesy, and so childish, but I still wish it could be true.
I do relate to the young Hercules, though. I don’t feel like I fit in where I am, and I think that somewhere out there, something is waiting for me. I just don’t have it in me to “go the distance” right now. I wish I could be strong, but I’m not strong right now. Maybe someday I’ll be able to find the place where I belong.
I thought I’d take the time to transpose some of my inane ramblings from my various notebooks here. I often find myself writing out my feelings, and I have a lot of weird, bitter garbage scattered throughout various scraps of paper that I thought might be worth sharing. It’s going to be bits and pieces of things written over the last few years, and absolutely none of it will be in chronological order. With that warning in mind, here is some raw, random thought pollution.
It’s no use. Sleep isn’t coming. I’m not even close. I’m so easily distracted right now. Every sight and sound brings me to a state of alertness. I’m not scared of anything right now, but I am being startled easily.
I think it’s late enough that my thoughts aren’t entirely logical right now. It’s nothing scary. I’m just tired, I think. Tired, but not sleepy. Tired of being awake. It’s exhausting, just living, sometimes.
Sometimes breathing is difficult. My throat feels so small at times. I suck in the air the best that I can, but it feels like nothing is happening. I guess that worries me. It’s not what’s keeping me awake, it’s just something I felt like mentioning.
[This next bit is from the same session of writing, but is about something completely unrelated. I’m not one for keeping things organized.]
When you don’t believe in god, you have to accept that you could die at any time. There is no hand guiding you to where you need to go, no divine light keeping you safe. when you see the world that way, when you see it for what it really is, it’s easy to get scared.
I think that’s why people are still religious in this day and age, in spite of all the evidence pointing to other answers. [Note: I have no intention of debating religion in the comments here, while I may approve a comment that brings up the topic, I absolutely will not respond in any way.] It’s easy to blame it all on ignorance, but I think that a lot of it is fear. It’s not just scary to see your own insignificance, it’s utterly terrifying. Paralyzing, even.
I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know how much it matters. I don’t know how long I have. I don’t know if I’ll ever find what I’m looking for. I don’t know if a girl exists who would both accept and be accepted by me, and if she does, I have no way of knowing if I’ll ever run into her. I don’t know if I’ll ever accomplish anything meaningful. There’s no guarantee of anything.
The only one that can make my life meaningful is myself. If I continue to do nothing, I will die unhappy and alone.
Knowing that doesn’t fix me, though. At the end of the day, I’m still awake at four in the morning, putting words to my debilitating anxiety and depression. I’m still stuck. Knowing the reason why I’m stuck doesn’t make things any easier. I still can’t get out of bed in the mornings.
I wish I was a little bit more talented. I wish I was a good enough guitarist to wow people. I wish I could write well enough to make money off of it.
Wishing doesn’t get me anywhere. The only thing I can do to change things is… you know, do things.
I don’t know how to improve at guitar. I practice every single day, but there doesn’t seem to be a positive change in my abilities. I feel like it’s useless to try. Still, I don’t want to stop. The few times that I ever feel good are when I’m playing music. I guess that’s what I should focus on. I play music because I like to, not to impress people, not to arbitrarily define myself as a “musician.” It’s really easy to lose sight of that, though.
As for my writing, there’s nothing I can really do aside from writing and reading more. I have no way of knowing if I’m even halfway decent, though. Everything I write sounds good to me, but that’s only because I know exactly how my inflection sounds, and every little pause and tonal change is obvious to me. Well, there’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone else read my writing. [Ha! Irony!] I don’t have the spine to handle whatever blows my pride would be dealt.
I don’t know why I’m still broken up about the breakup. It’s been five months now, [ten as of this rewrite] you’d think I wouldn’t give a shit anymore.
The thing is, I don’t think that I do give a shit anymore. At least, not about her. Nothing that happens in her life matters to me in the slightest. I think I’m just incapable of dealing with being alone. But blah blah blah, nobody wants to be alone, right?
[To be clear, the girl in question is Gnat, from my earlier post.]
I think that without someone who adores me, I have a hard time feeling like I have a reason to exist. I think I desire romance out of a need for validation more than anything else. I guess there’s a bit more to it, though. I love the idea of chivalry and somehow being a Prince Charming, but that’s not reality. That doesn’t exist. I don’t know what I want that actually exists. I don’t know how to be happy without pretending I’m someone else, somewhere else.
I want a cigarette.
Something I’ve learned from my nightmares is that I’m quite capable of conjuring up horrific images without the aid of outside media. Who needs horror films when you’ve got a brain like mine?
[One more, I think. I’ll post others later.]
My dreams last night… were fucking disturbing. I don’t want to go into the first one, even here, that’s how uncomfortable I am with it. [Something about being forced to marry my older stepsister. Fucking creeped me out upon waking. I can say something about it now that I’m slightly removed from it, but still, holy shit, that was creepy.] The second one was actually fine, relatively speaking, but it showed that an obsession I had was seeded deeper than I thought.
I feel like a fucking idiot. I was actually happy during those dreams. [Please don’t judge.] Like, happier than I’ve been while awake in over a year. I don’t wish for them to be a reality, at least not the way they were, but something similar would be nice. [As in, marrying anyone else. The second dream, I should reiterate, was not so bad.]
I really just want affection. It’s pretty pathetic, and I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I have it again. I’m going to keep on wishing and dreaming. That’s all I’m really capable of. I’m pretty useless.
As it turns out, I’ve got a lot more of these than I thought. Consider this a part one of learning too much about me and being deeply disturbed by my once-private thoughts.
My Thoughts Are Pollution 