obscenity
��������� �����the countdown now begins, one year, 365 days, until i will join the alcoholic crowd, propositioned to buy drinks illegally, sitting in bars with the Crowd, staring out windows in smoke-ridden areas where i wish i wasn't where i wished i was so long ago --tonight is a gray night, waning on into morning so quickly i can barely see it going by - whoosh - a passing-by train with nary a whistle to mark passage. i am sitting on the flatbed of a tractor trailer, mute, cross-legged, being ferried across the country. i have told myself that i will not use this journal to communicate my issues or thoughts to those around me. "write something happy," says jason. "when i write things happy, it cheers me up real fast, but when i write things depressing, it makes me depressed." fuck.
so there's the swing, there's the hollowness, and there's the same old songs played on the playlist - meaningfully. a perfect circle, metallica, linkin park. songs with "numb" and "angry" and "schism" in the title, searingly imprinted words in my mind, forefront, blazing. a cold rage surges up - it's nearly tidal? waves rush up on a dark shore, breakers of isolation. there is no drunkenness here, i am completely sober - and others are not.
i am going to end this mindless rant right now.