Sometimes, I just have to sit back an try to organize everything that goes on inside my crowded brain. Schoolwork, becoming better at guitar, meeting new people, figured people I already know out, trying to improve relationships. They all take up my mind's capacity.
I love it when my brain shuts down and takes a chill-break. I discovered that this happens after smoking pot. I guess that's what begun my whole interest in getting high; forgetting everything I'm always concerning myself with. A good friend once told me, "All your thoughts and ideas, you can't just let them sit there. You have to let them out or you'll go insane, write them down, talk to someone, talking to the fucking wall if you have to, just don't keep them in and hide them." so this is where my "story" begins. With all my ideas, and a briefing of all the categories they go into.
Oh, and I've forgotten to mention, since the summer of 2010, I've thought I was "depressed", so that will most likely take up some of the content in here.
Anyways, I'll start this off with a passage I wrote a few months ago, and perhaps I'll build on it.
I hear my father's phlegmy smoker's cough from the downstairs den, the room in which he would spend most nights alone or with Bentley. I lay in my bed on a cold Saturday night reading at a rather early time for me on Saturdays. Actually, it was rare to see me going at a book on Saturday nights.
I had just finished a long relaxing bath. The kind you spend an hour planning in your head, the kind where you get to go over all your thoughts and just completely let go and let your mind run free. These kinds of baths are important for me, as my mind runs a lot faster than it should. I lay in bed with a fresh clean aroma lingering in the air.
These nights make me happy, yet sad at the same time. I think of what I could be doing, like going out with my friends, meeting boys, going to a party, getting drunk, getting high, getting drunk and high at the same time or just simply playing some Call of Duty with some friends. I think of how much fun I'd be having, standing outside Starbucks with all these kids thinking, "I should do this every weekend!".
Alas, I never do. It's actually rare for me to go out, but my parents complaining makes me feel like I go out too much.
Transportation seems to be the largest issue in my social life. My parents actually are lazy enough to tell me they refuse to move their sitting positions from the couch to the car for a while, to give their brains a break from the News or Two and a Half Men, to let their minds run free, like me.
I love it when my brain shuts down and takes a chill-break. I discovered that this happens after smoking pot. I guess that's what begun my whole interest in getting high; forgetting everything I'm always concerning myself with. A good friend once told me, "All your thoughts and ideas, you can't just let them sit there. You have to let them out or you'll go insane, write them down, talk to someone, talking to the fucking wall if you have to, just don't keep them in and hide them." so this is where my "story" begins. With all my ideas, and a briefing of all the categories they go into.
Oh, and I've forgotten to mention, since the summer of 2010, I've thought I was "depressed", so that will most likely take up some of the content in here.
Anyways, I'll start this off with a passage I wrote a few months ago, and perhaps I'll build on it.
I hear my father's phlegmy smoker's cough from the downstairs den, the room in which he would spend most nights alone or with Bentley. I lay in my bed on a cold Saturday night reading at a rather early time for me on Saturdays. Actually, it was rare to see me going at a book on Saturday nights.
I had just finished a long relaxing bath. The kind you spend an hour planning in your head, the kind where you get to go over all your thoughts and just completely let go and let your mind run free. These kinds of baths are important for me, as my mind runs a lot faster than it should. I lay in bed with a fresh clean aroma lingering in the air.
These nights make me happy, yet sad at the same time. I think of what I could be doing, like going out with my friends, meeting boys, going to a party, getting drunk, getting high, getting drunk and high at the same time or just simply playing some Call of Duty with some friends. I think of how much fun I'd be having, standing outside Starbucks with all these kids thinking, "I should do this every weekend!".
Alas, I never do. It's actually rare for me to go out, but my parents complaining makes me feel like I go out too much.
Transportation seems to be the largest issue in my social life. My parents actually are lazy enough to tell me they refuse to move their sitting positions from the couch to the car for a while, to give their brains a break from the News or Two and a Half Men, to let their minds run free, like me.
