dear minions, i’ve broken down.
in more ways than one, i’ve lost my shit.
i’m just kidding, but i am breaking my own word.
i’ve started actually writing again, and there are some people out there who i feel deserve a little peak into what i never let seep out of my system. people, i guess i should say person. i’ve always had an error code in my communication skills, lately it’s reached an all time “high as fuck at a cypress hill concert” high. typically, you can get me to talk through spanish inquisition methods. and by that i mean get me drunk and the words practically scramble their way out of my brain and sloppily land on my tongue. they then proceed to not so gracefully trudge across your eardrums and stumble all over your brain waves. what i’m really saying is that i suck at expressing any semblance of a feeling, at all times. hammered or not.
anyway. now, you ask me to talk (express and share unnecessary feelings, etc) and i freeze. the words dig a little hole in the corner of my medulla (no idea if that’s anatomically correct on my part, anatomy wasn’t my shit) and stubbornly hold their mouths shut. there’s no way i’ll even form a sentence at this point.
this is why i write, or complain to you lovely people.
another thing. i have absolutely no writing process whatsoever. i don’t even know what it is i’m going to say until i pick up a pen and the first thing resembling a thought pops into my head. sometimes, i don’t even know what the next sentence will be, more or less the next word.
god this blog is rousingly serious. and dull.
on to the whole point of why i clicked “new post.” you may not fully understand the intent behind my writing. you may even find yourself thinking “what the fuck is this bitch on about? she must be depressed or some shit.” no worries, you may even find some grammatical errors and write off (that’s funny, writing puns) the whole piece entirely. a bitch don’t give a shit, so enjoy if you will and hate if you must.
down with stinging reminders that i once coaxed the venom to burrow into my soul. flirted, pleaded with it to bring me the pain that can revive whatever semblance of a soul, a presence that i still cling to. though what i’m desperately clutching does not adhere to the mundane definition of spirit.
after what manifests itself as something of worth, only to realize that the remainders are, in fact, in tatters. piecing, cajoling, willing them to form a bond; attach the fragments to conjure up what fools people into judging it as though it were a complete piece. though the components waver and steal any chance to escape from this pretending.
is what it boils down to. simmering with a passion to never let down the safeguards that provide me with a fabricated strength, courage. cooling when it sees that for whatever, however long a period of time it has succeeded. flaring when someone discovers the cracks, jabs their fingers into the gaping orifices until they bleed.
some deep shit huh! i almost feel like sharing more pieces with you, yes i call them pieces.
perhaps in the near future, you’ll all stop reading my shit because it gets too depressing. not to worry, i couldn’t change my topic from humuor to “depressing shit and cats.” i’ve got you. the next one WILL be funny.