This was written while I was high. Not completely sure what it means yet, but I find the clarity and sequence of my thoughts under the influence rather amazing.
You only see what people want you to see.The days when it seems you can’t get out of bed. The days when it seems your spherical window just shattered. The days when you feel like you’re flying under the blue blue sky, only to discover the dream of flying feels like dying. The blue sky turns purple, then pink, then red. Then everything revolves around you and suddenly you’re not in control anymore. The sky is gaping underneath you and the ground is far above you. You’re left there all alone. So you fly on. Fly, feeling high, feeling finally ready to die.
What is the purpose of life?
Discovering the beauty of death.What is the purpose of death?
Discovering the beauty of life.Can you feel it? The undescribable, unusual sense in the air? The frightening silence that lies on top of you like a heavy bookcase? The calming peace of shattered dreams? And the shrieks of birds getting shot. Finally. And then there’s the other dream. The sweet dream with popsicle trees, cotton candy bushes and liquorice grass. And a croissant instead of the moon. And a chocolate milk river. And a mountain of toffee and a desert of sugar.And the sugarplum sky, riping, sticking out its tongue at you. Kiss it! Or at least you can try.
It’s something you’re never ever having. Because you can’t eat, and you are starving yourself and are living on Diet Coke. But then you binge for a day or two and then go on a hunger strike again. You can hate yourself and love yourself at the same time. Will a state of equilibrum ever be reached?
Wow
