Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Drigh Fits

As I stumble, rum on my breath and marijuana on my clothes, I smile, hiding the true feelings and intentions with artificial means. 

My phone buzzes quickly. 'Buzz buzz' is the pattern. It must be a text message.

I try to readjust myself but I give up and fall onto the floor. I slowly pull out my phone, the effects of the rum and marijuana colliding with each other hindering my movement. I stare at the phone, not because I'm reading the message, but because I'm trying to readjust to the bright light of the phone. It slowly fades into fruition who it is. I push the phone away from me. 

It isn't her.

I pick myself up again to trot onto the couch and collapse, my friends laughing at my inability to maintain liquor and marijuana at the same time. I smile, not because it's funny but because that's the only feasible thing I can do. I can't rationalize my actions. I can't say that the drugs haven't gripped me and I'm completely alert. I close my eyes.

I used to dream happy dreams, dreams that left me rejuvenated and ready to start the day. I can't recall any of my dreams now and I dread getting up, looking up and asking Him to "stop torturing me" as I glance towards my phone again.


I used to question myself, the people I involved myself with and even questioned my own views and morals. I equated things, forced myself to believe certain things so reality wouldn't seem as fucked up. As cryptic as it truly is. I would be hiding behind a cloak of ignorance and bliss. 

I removed that cloak months ago.