Toxins 

I have a poisonous self effacing, self loathing toxin running through my system I can't expel. I remember doing this - writing here- was therapeutic once. I will leave those statements awkwardly shoulder to shoulder for the minute, as a kind of opening explanation or an excuse as to why this mess of words exists. It feels an age since I had to assemble words to command meaning from them. If I were to reflect and read all I'd written here before, understanding all too clearly the motivations and grizzly emotions behind them I'd probably agree with the other half of myself that those were years I would gladly return to. "They weren't so bad." Not so abnormal a thought for someone looking back at tortured teen blog posts, agreed. However now I can see with frightening clarity the permanency with which my actions have shaped me. It's like I can see step by step how I managed to screw things to the point I am writing some emotional shit to send out into deep space. Even if you are a lonely Peruvian sheep herder accessing the Internet through the most recent plane crash on the mountainside, you will understand the desperation which I am now feeling.  In truth I am writing this to a select few people I wish still infringed on my life. I am trying to expel the truth that they will never come to read this from my mind so that I can at least finish this.  Only without their presence do I see that I was at the mercy of those few who made me happy. Boredom dogs me. The only thing I can take my hate out on is my workplace. But that's not even constructive. Of course the slave hates the slave driver. I envy those who went to university. I long for the conversations and optimism. Drinking isn't fun any more. Drugs drain my time and mind. Books in the words of Blind Melon "rip my life away, but it's a great escape." I take most of it out on the loyal Sam. He for some reason cares and withstands it and manages to love me but at times it's just upsetting how different we are and that I can already see a future where we are strangers. I suppose what's truly eating at me is that too many people feel like strangers to me right now. The sadder that thought makes me the less inclined I am to put on a sociable face and see people. I am eighteen and people I went to school with only months ago are asking me how and what I'm doing as if it's a reunion thirty years down the line and they want to see if I've succumbed to being a junkie yet. (for politeness sake) I used to have this ability to, for a short but tangible time fall in love with people. I could admire someones mind, their tangled thought process, or the strong gaze they held with me. I was electrified by character regularly. To make a shitty comparison, I am currently floating in a tank of electrified fish, floating belly up. Seeing as I'm unhinged this is all very melodramatic. I get bleak, it is true.
At this point in time my solution to my problems is: Try not to wither and die until I go to Canada. Hope that trip stirs me. Exile self in Italy. Invite those I miss most to live in Italy with me for a brief period like we were children of Hedonism in an F. Scott Fitzgerald tale, hoping they'd be up for that. I will tell you how this all works out.
 

                        This song reminds me of a sweet satisfying time and someone perfect. It's a good tranquiliser.