Free to be Ridiculous
3-15-2002 - 12:00 a.m.
before/after
strangely
non-functional guestbook
I feel like a lover been gone, sheepishly glancing into your eyes, hoping for a meagar sum of acceptance. Getting better. Trying to hash it all out. Failing. I spent the better part of the week trying to clear my head, or rather, bring it all together and divine the future. For me this involves a lot of quiet contemplation, smoking blinding amounts of pot, quoting obscure lines from movies, [cut to Fredo lying on a couch, confessing his betrayal to Mich ael in the Godfather] "I'm smaht!" [end cut] and generally letting it all go unchecked. Sans filter, if you will. I didn't plan on this. I didn't. I'm just trying to cope. And survive, I guess. And now, after going to the brink a month and a half ago, here I am. I evaluated my life, and felt good about it. I faced it all down, and have yet another chance. I feel free to be silly. I feel free to be ridiculous. I have options. I have reality. I have hopes and dreams that are all dust. I have a heart full of melancholy and eyes full of love. Things are still unresolved.
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