Salsa (sssalsa) wrote,
Salsa
sssalsa

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Disconnecting From the Missing Link

The cold comfort of the inbetween. A little less than a human being. A little less than a happy high. A little less than a suicide. The only things you really tried...

Funny, I find myself on the eve of that fateful Monday that will begin the end of my collegiate career, and I'm sitting here, wishing summer didn't have to leave because the party is still raging. But her drunkass boyfriend is causing trouble, so she has to go before he hurls the rubbermaid container that held the jungle juice that has seeped into and coated our brains in a nice, pink hue at nothing imparticular and everyone in general. It'd be so messy... too messy. The way things are going must end. I must fall into my autumn depression as I do every year, but I get better at it each and every time since I find myself lower than the prior year allowed. As much as I try to pull my head away from the reality it chooses to view over and over again, I fail. Whatever I put into my system doesn't take hold like it used to. I've built a tolerance, but it's not consistent. Sometimes, it leaves me spewing my red sputum, laced with whatever liquor you name, into my garbage can while I lay on the floor, wishing it will stop swirling around long enough to allow me to steadily sleep on it. Other times, it allows me to have the best sexual experience that I could ever imagine in all actuality, truth, honesty, reality... It's a guessing game, and I've forgotten how to cheat. That's a lie, so I suppose I'm not that shabby. I wish I could bring myself to cheat - taking what I "need" in complete disregard of everything that isn't me; however, this brutal honest streak cannot be drank or smoked away... I used to actively try to destroy it. Actually, I spent last summer doing just that. Had a Ghostie from that time pop up last night, but we did a Jager bomb together. All was well. It's the sobriety that is so harsh and cutting... sometimes. when I think about it too much. when no one is around to tell me it'll all be ok even though i never admit to wanting those words.

Robbie's been keeping me sane for the past three months. Though I try not to think about it, I'm dreading the day when he won't want me anymore because he's realized that there's always something better. Wow. I'm just whining away here. What I really wanted to convey is this: I wish this season didn't have to end because it's been the best summer I've ever had at a time when I really needed and truly appreciated it. I shouldn't ask for more, but I can't stop myself from grasping onto this wave until it breaks. It will hurt so much when it does. Although there's still an awful amount of drama around, it isn't as important as it once was. Generally, I'm completely content. even happy. sometimes fucking elated. But I've talked about my need for sleep and inability to wake up every morning with Robbie, who basically suggested I seek professional help without actually saying those words. Then, we both left the subject because we'd made hash butter, which is all the pure THC from stems, and we were too fucked to harp on anything... or keep a linear train of thought. We were just too calm. The world was just too perfect. momentarily. I guess it's all about counting the minutes... tick, tock.

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