I Told Her On Alderaan.

I write to kill the afternoon. I write to maintain maintain my desire, my sanity, and occasionally my sobriety.
This is a stream of me; ebbing and flowing beyond any control. De-construct context and let it all happen. Each moment is new and perception of it all moves forwards, not backwards. She inspires me. I won’t let her know. Every second counts as I try to turn it all around.
I feel as though I am standing on an incredibly high ledge looking down with my headphones on and turned up all the way.

I even think I can feel a cool wind up here, but when I stop to think about it I realize that it’s only my breath on my hand as I write. I write to get the chaos out of my mind. All this fragmented thought takes up too much goddamn real estate!! More always gushes out as soon as I think I’ve taken care of the situation anyway. The real question is what to do with all this energy. It is relentless as a jungle beat, but one can only dance for so long. Begin to wonder what it was all for. Where did all this take you? That is the first step. Give up and just observe the action for a while.
Watch the show.
Know what I mean?

In your life, you will die and be reborn more times than you ever imagined possible. I’ve lost track. I think that the trick is to make sure that the latest version of yourself is one that you’re happy with. I do this by combing through my personal history looking for lessons. Incorporation rules me. I have to understand more than before. I want to learn and to share what I’ve seen. We could teach each other.

I won’t leave. I’ll stay nervous when we talk for as long as I know you. I’m not the jealous type. I’m not the judgmental type. I’m wearing things on my sleeve so that one day someone will see them from a mile off and won’t run in the opposite direction. My past is my past. In order for me to love who I am today, I have to embrace it. I do embrace it. At the same time, I’m more than ready to stop thinking about it so fucking much and move on with myself and my life. We can take it slower than an inch worm in a marathon. I don’t need you, I just want you.

I can’t stand when people try to impart morals on me. Like who the fuck does anyone think they are that they can stare down from their pedestal and shake their finger at me for my choices? I’ll never do it to you or anyone else; I swear. I curse. I want to sleep in until 2 pm and play your guitar. Let’s talk about our million addictions and forget which tense we’re using. I already forgot.

Come on over and we can sing some songs and get high off the whole fucking scene.

What do you think?