Grass

He opened an eye tentatively, decided his retina wasn't terribly charmed by the image formed, and closed it again. Interesting designs I can see with my eyes closed, he thought. He tried again, this time both his eyes. And found he was looking spot on at a bright floodlight and his fuddled brain decided that was what was forming the designs and that those were better anyway. For a few seconds, brain and retina continued the clash, but by then his neck muscles had churned into action, and he looked away from the floodlight.
And found he was sprawled on dewy wet grass on the football ground, with three of his friends, one of who was still at it. Grass, he thought. Good. And then decided better still, joint. He thought yes, I could use that; and his arm responded slowly and decided to lift up. His friend saw the raised arm and thought...fucker's woken up....now I'll have to share the fucking joint.....I love this fucker...and gave him the joint.
He took the joint and inhaled. Let the weed fill his lungs. And said a little ode to the 1% of his brain cells that were dying courtesy his trip. And thought...I can hear these fuckers breathe man...this is the life...

It pulls me in, y'know? I just keep dwelling on it.
'It' being?
It being if there's something left..... or whether it's all already happened.

I'm a cynic 'coz it's convenient...
Belief, faith...all of it requires effort.
And that's the last thing I can spare my energies for.... I'm spending enough on being an absolute idiot as it is...
Ugh. There are times when I feel if I had a friend who was like me, I would have slapped her and shaken her till she came to her fricking senses. There I go again. I am, as I keep repeating, completely hopeless....
I need like...a whole new life....
On second thoughts, I don't... Seeing as I'll probably do the same stuff over : What I could do with would be a whole new emotional side. A non-existent one, ie.
Ugh.

Perhaps that is all there is to it. Fear of being 'found out', as a friend very aptly put it. Of being found out for being the weak, vulnerable, idiotic jackass that I seem to be morphing into. Or have always been, actually. When I said it, I didn't realize that it was a Freudian slip of sorts. It scares me sometimes, what I seem to be. The fact that perhaps, after all, I don't really care. And I think that maybe I might be pretending that I do for fear of being found out. And I really, desperately, am in want for lessons on how to say NO.
I am desperately unrehearsed for this life. Unrehearsed, undecided....I should be banned from society. Or the reverse...
And this absurd feeling of despondency...that seems to be crawling under my skin...at least since I heard...Can't these idiots just go get a life?! I do deserve to be left alone to 'do my thing' once in a while don't I?!
And frankly, I don't get all the hype about the concept of hope. Pthhhhhhh.... :|

People think of love as being a very clear-cut, certain, definite thing; but to me, it usually seems to be a very unstable, uncertain, shall we say...vacillating sort of condition....You feel like you love one person and also another....perhaps no one at all...
And even if it is love, it's such a temporary, fickle, passing feeling, that no sooner is the object of affection out of sight that it evaporates...That's not saying that the feeling is not sincere, but it doesn't last...
Ahhhh...maybe it is just me....
Or maybe they are all like this and just pretending...:D

Either they know what we go through when we are in love, in which case their callousness in not warning and helping us through it is inexcusable; or they have never felt what we feel, and we have every right to call them dead.

I'm quite mad, aren't I? Not to mention cryptic.
Simplify, they say. Go say that to my life. I want to see the sneer on her face when you do. (I have to say 'her' 'coz there's no way life could be so incredibly bitchy otherwise.)