Remnants of Dream Land

It's happened before, where I have strange dreams that I wake up to, hoping that I can finish off. First, I was doing an investigation on some conglomerate power, in a post apocalyptic and desolate world, they were hiding seeds. A few people knew about this, and tried to sneak out as many as they could, but the corporation wanted them dead. I was there to figure out why people turned up dead. It was so hard to get in, but once I did they couldn't do anything to me, as I had special fiscal powers. In other words, many people knew where I was, and what I was doing. In the end, I had found someone who would talk to me, Lucy. Lucy was sneaking out seeds, giving them to farmers I believe. We left the building but I lost her, somehow a biker started jumping over me on his bike to stop me. I kept telling him that I was in a fragile condition and he should be extremely careful. Eventually someone came up and grabbed him, swung him like a rag doll and smashed his helmet onto the pavement. It was here that I heard a punk rock band singing in a park, the lyrics all escape me but this part "we are here, we are here, we are trying to live homeless. Staving off the cold, keeping each other warm, we are trying to stave off homelessness."

I awoke, couldn't get into the dream again. I wanted to find Lucy and get the real story. It is here that I pass out again, and another dream begins.

I'm starting a road trip, I have all of these benefactors lined up, people who will be giving me money along the way in order to continue on. I was with my old friend Steph, she wanted to come along to take pictures and such. Our first stop took us to a big city, I can't recall which, but we pulled up to a parking lot and headed towards a mall. There we met the first benefactor, a nerdy 20 something year old guy who handed over a fat wad of cash and said that he couldn't wait to see what we got into. I told him that it was going to be interesting, and he should come along if he'd like. He said something about work or school, I tried to give him a book I had but he lost it the minute I handed it to him. We tried looking but to no avail. In the end Steph and I left, and we decided to go for a walk. I told her to stop and look at her surroundings, we needed to remember where the car was.

Try Try Try

It's days like today which make me wish I was able to just go, to get up and move away from here. These four walls, the lack of privacy, the unstable home situation. It tears at my inner psyche, I'm unable to cope because I'm unable to care for myself at the moment. Without work, without a bright light at the end of this tunnel, what am I to do? I feel ill, physically as well as mentally. I don't want to be tied down like this anymore, but there is no other way for me. My creativity is at an all time low, I blame it on the lack of "alone" time. I am always surrounded by someone, be it my sister or my mother, they are about at all times. Feeling ostigated with their presence I wonder if they feel the same about me, and if they want me gone as badly as I want to be gone. When will they know that I left a long time ago? That mentally I have tried to be away from them for so long. I sometimes don't understand these things, though I do know that what I do is because it makes me feel better, it allows for me to be somewhere else entirely. I often wish that things would be different, that I could take care of myself, that I had my own place, maybe then my family and I would get along better.

She came back into mind again. I met someone this past weekend, someone who reminded me a lot of her. Blond, thin, with a bag full of pills, and a care free attitude. I knew to stay away from the moment I laid eyes on her, sour girls are not something I want to be hanging around with. Other than that the festival went well. I met someone who I thought was really nice, but they may never know because I didn't say so. It was one of the volunteers, brunette, nice figure, and a go get 'em sense of being that I enjoyed. Too bad I was too busy making sure things were ok to do anything about it, to chat her up and say more than just hello. I'm such an idiot sometimes. What I hate the most is feeling alone, especially when I'm surrounded by people.

Blues, Oxycodone, and the demise of my generation.

It's been a while since my last post. A lot of things have happened. I fell in love, and then into apathy, all because of a few mishapped words. What can one do but try to give and love, if it's not returned then it's just not meant to be.

Someone passed away, someone I knew, rather met a few times. It's not so much the pain of loosing someone that I thought was a nice human being, but seeing the pain of those who loved this individual. It tears at my inner most. It's a sad reality. "Blues," as they have come to be called here, better known by their name Oxycodone, have certainly made quite the impression upon me these last few years. From seeing friends cope with the eminent addiction, to a lover who was more than just a regular user, to running into the aftermath more than once in it's many facades. This is a very scary drug, an extremely potent thing to be feared. It should not be taken lightly, and those who peddle it should be shot. No kidding, it is one of the worst epidemics I have ever seen, it is my generations version of... hell, I don't think we've ever had anything this bad in our society.

Sour girl comes to mind, that old lover, that woman who makes strides in the right direction all while she shoots up poison into her veins. How vain of her.

People from my past, from Opie, to Jerry. Those who lost themselves, and the few that found their way back.

Honestly I am at a loss for words. I wish this could stop, I wish that the whole thing could go away, but it wont. It's here to stay, and we have to deal with it. We have to hope that the ones smart enough don't just fall into it's hands. Even I, after spine surgery and such, I am in danger. The opioids that I must consume to keep my own sanity are the demons that I also must face. I only take them at night to help me sleep, to keep the pain at bay, and I hate it because I don't want to end up like them. I am afraid to end up like sour girl. Having met her, and known her as I did, does put the world in perspective in such a multi faceted way that I am able to understand that what I'm going through must be threaded carefully. It is not something to be taken lightly, as there is a very fine line between sanity and loss of self here.

If only one day she'd wake up too.