Pseudo-Finale.
I had forgotten the exhilaration of the stage, and my heart was beating at something like eighty beats per minute up there. It felt good, it really did, and I'd like to think that I did the piece justice.
And I got my hair cut, and I hate it. Give it another 10 hours and I genuinely won't care, but I'll still snap at anyone who mentions it in passing, because they're tools and jackasses anyways. I don't know why I'm so angry today, or the last few days, but it's part of who I am.
I picked up smoking as a recreation a little while ago, as long as we're getting out in the open. I haven't smoked too many, I think I'm on my tenth in a week as of this line in the post, so I'm not guilty of overindulgence or anything.
And I'm under 18, so it's illegal and is inherently evil. It is your duty to purify me and wipe me off the face of this planet. Do your duty to God and country and destroy me, crucify my on a righteous and legal cross, with fines like nails in my hands and punishments the boards that kill me.
But still, this feels great. I don't give a shit about anything as long as I've got this aflame. I can only hope that some of you will try this once you are able, as bad as that sounds. And those of you who refuse to try something because it's supposedly hazardous to your health, those straight-edged attention whores, those fearful little lemmings, they are the true imbeciles of society. Denying yourself an experience and therefore, wisdom, is aboutas stupid a thing as you can accomplish.
As for imbecile, I don't mean that as an insult; I'm referring to it's long dead meaning. I mean that they have the mental capacity of a seven year old or younger, although they have been on this earth for far longer than seven years.
I don't have a care in the world right now. That isn't to say that I'm passive or anything, and I'm not above fighting at the moment, but all that stress is gone. Poof. I couldn't care less, this is amazing.
I'm mellowed out now, and I'm more than certain that it's somehow connected to this stick of tobacco in my mouth. Contrast that with the anger that I felt earlier today during the performace; some freshman were chuckling and talking during Micah's piece. I'm looking forward very much to handing out my very own brand of justice to them, and I'm sure that will feel great, in that sick, twisted, sadistic sort of way.
See? There's that aggression. But it's controlled, I'm not as impulsive and I can definately envision myself writing like this.
Peace.
And I got my hair cut, and I hate it. Give it another 10 hours and I genuinely won't care, but I'll still snap at anyone who mentions it in passing, because they're tools and jackasses anyways. I don't know why I'm so angry today, or the last few days, but it's part of who I am.
I picked up smoking as a recreation a little while ago, as long as we're getting out in the open. I haven't smoked too many, I think I'm on my tenth in a week as of this line in the post, so I'm not guilty of overindulgence or anything.
And I'm under 18, so it's illegal and is inherently evil. It is your duty to purify me and wipe me off the face of this planet. Do your duty to God and country and destroy me, crucify my on a righteous and legal cross, with fines like nails in my hands and punishments the boards that kill me.
But still, this feels great. I don't give a shit about anything as long as I've got this aflame. I can only hope that some of you will try this once you are able, as bad as that sounds. And those of you who refuse to try something because it's supposedly hazardous to your health, those straight-edged attention whores, those fearful little lemmings, they are the true imbeciles of society. Denying yourself an experience and therefore, wisdom, is aboutas stupid a thing as you can accomplish.
As for imbecile, I don't mean that as an insult; I'm referring to it's long dead meaning. I mean that they have the mental capacity of a seven year old or younger, although they have been on this earth for far longer than seven years.
I don't have a care in the world right now. That isn't to say that I'm passive or anything, and I'm not above fighting at the moment, but all that stress is gone. Poof. I couldn't care less, this is amazing.
I'm mellowed out now, and I'm more than certain that it's somehow connected to this stick of tobacco in my mouth. Contrast that with the anger that I felt earlier today during the performace; some freshman were chuckling and talking during Micah's piece. I'm looking forward very much to handing out my very own brand of justice to them, and I'm sure that will feel great, in that sick, twisted, sadistic sort of way.
See? There's that aggression. But it's controlled, I'm not as impulsive and I can definately envision myself writing like this.
Peace.
posted by Dylan at 8:51 PM
1 Comments:
I am disappointed in you.
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