Where along this path did things ever change? When did swim go from being bright eyed and jovial to wincing through apathy? I’m at the point where I can walk across the sand, and feel each singular grain as representations of who I want to be, where I want to be, and how I want to get there. A tight fist, but an empty hand. I cannot seem to put the pieces together to form something substantial. To create the man I want to be from the potential that is rippling through me.
Motivation is fleeting, and I’m at the point where a major lifestyle change needs to be made. I think that when you smoke (on average) every other day for the past three years, you’re bound to completely re-wire your brain. Inducing foreign chemicals and mood alterations can only be bad for you. I have lost the ability to cope on my own. Lonely? Smoke up, kick back, and enjoy the phantom company of dopamine and serotonin; brought on by unnatural substances. Stressed out? Load up the pipe and allow your worries and fears to be carried away to strange and hidden shadows, clinging to the outskirts of your mind.
I’m an grossly in love with someone I fear losing on a daily basis. So naturally, my normal anti-anxiety coping mechanism comes to mind. I’d smoke up some more, and suddenly feel like every thing will work out. Here’s the kicker though; what gets lost in all the apathy towards previous anxieties are the exact reasons why I’m so anxious.
I want her to be attracted to me, obviously. However, I’m not attracted to myself. Now, I’m not being cynical about this, I know that I can look rather handsome on most days; but I’m skinny. I’m as thin as I’ve always been. It disgusts me. I have the desire to work out every single day, so that within the passing of a few months, I’ll be someone she longs for both emotionally and physically. I want her to pine for my body, and not have to bare with it through our throws of love making because she has to. I’m no idiot, I know what she wants, and I know what I want. But instead of dedicating myself to fixing the inherent problem, I’d smoke up and calm down.
I want to make copious amounts of music, and dedicate myself to the craft. I want to write stories, direct short stories, take pictures and post them online for the world to see. I want her to be in love with me for my creative prowess, and physical perfection. Because right now, when I ask myself why she loves me, I cannot answer. Due to that, I often convince myself that she doesn’t, in fact, love me.
The old adage is that you must love yourself before you can love others. Maybe before you can feel them love you back. I don’t love myself. I see myself as a lazy stoner who has sapped any and all motivation to strive for the image that I want to portray. She won’t stay with the skinny stoner forever. Pretty soon, she’ll want a man who can support her and meet her desires. It’s not far off, it’s not impossible, but it takes a certain degree of dedication to consistency, persistence, and respect for myself.
All in all, I need to get my shit together. I need to do so now. Today. I worked out today. When tomorrow comes, I need to do the same. I need to force myself into these positive habits before I can embrace the recreational habits I currently employ. Maybe, in due time, I can garner enough of my old self back to reclaim my motivation. To save myself from despising myself. To give the woman I love something strong to love back.
I want to jump and dance, but I’ve sat on my hands. I think it’s about damn time that I do something about my bitching, instead of bitching about said bitching. Because that just makes me an annoying bitch. I don’t want that. I want the reticle of her lust to be directed on me. I want her to day dream about me. Hell, I want to daydream about me. Hopefully it’s not too late, and hopefully she’ll (for reasons unbeknownst to me) hold on for just a little while longer. Because come spring/summer, I plan to be someone totally different from who I am today.
A lot needs to change, but without adaptation, no one would ever progress. So, here’s to winning over your own heart; so as to keep the one you love from straying. And to pull yourself up from the pit of self-pity you’ve hand dug for yourself.
(Source: hymnal-of-alternative-music)
A Clean Collection of Guts and Knives
where did she go?
couldn’t find a home after the storm
washed her unsure
of a death to mourn or life to explore
I disappeared and she’s scared and we fear that these wounds weren’t meant to heal
and I swear that it’s clear that I’m losing touch with what left I can feel
…
Dopamine Dream
Is it too sick to say
I like you better this way
Face hidden in shades of grey shame.
I’ll take the token and not be woken up or spoken for
the title is optional
you go downstairs
you’re in his house
into the meadow of dreams and doubts
fall asleep on an empty mind
you heard them say
you’ve had the time
drift away through your tired life
the heart deceived is one common crime
because when he left you
he took more then what he meant to
Apatha
the whole town gathered ‘round
to watch a man drown
over the hills and eastern bound
the whole town gathered ‘round
to watch a man be hung to the ground
nay a gasp or a sound
they all just turned around
Veil of the Vixen
this leather fits like skin
stitched from the flesh of more confident women
when you can’t tell where reality ends and the seams begin
that’s when you’re gonna give in
Like Thread On Flesh
the air filled with rose petals
parachuting slowly on the heels of gravity
sticking to the earth like thread on dead flesh
they lay alone with no stem
divided by depravity
so how will it turn out?
(Source: covermeagain)
