Its like the earth is divided into people that are here and people that arent. People who arent here could be anywhere, really, underground shielded by their graves or upstairs obtaining their believes, but, they cant be torn the way they are left, dead or alive in a never ending trip. Those would be the middle people the ones who are under the influence,  who am I to judge whether they are present. Theoretically, the people who are here are being divided into addicts and non-addicts but again, who am I to pass judgement and conquer the tip of the iceberg with this never ending philosophy, think, are addicts living the real life and we non addicts are the ones being cleaned off of life?

I'm being whispered the answer and my heart starts whimpering with disease. Im a non user.
Would a user rather die in the care of his drug than live the sorrow life without it? Locked in a looping motion of sickening pain , never really existing without it,  not manufacturing the real potential of their mind that used to create such marvelous visions. A mind that used to posses such extraordinary Ideas. I dont think drugs are the answer to begin with, if you dig into your mind you could create things and skills that would make you complete without the need to explore. Though, this need to explore the content of your own universe is as strong as ever and still , the snorting and popping and sniffing and injecting , are your most direct ticket to the underworld of your universe. There's no good without bad and when you are hooked. You are hooked.

I dont know what made me spill out about drug abuse,here. I thought , for a while, that this blog would get passed on with witty remarks on the web and that people will adore it and dig its vibe. I know this will not happen because my intelligence is very emotional and featuring myself as a smart writer would give you nothing but the wrong impression of what really lays behind my walls of secrecy. I dont know whether or not Im a good writer, all I know is Im sick of wankers crying out their misery with written scrolls of web blogs. I dont want to be perceived as one. Im in the middle of them crying and goofing around smartness teen blog writers, just like a junkie enjoying a little bit of both the world and its underground. I feel as if I cant totaly fight  the emotional blurrs and smudges in my own writing even though letting them show would kill my chances of having any kind of blog related friendships or relationships. This all makes me pop out the word 'adolescent'. The energy strike and the thrill of loneliness and poor company. Im vomiting 'adolescent' in this blog.

I adore many creatures that go about on earth. Bloggers, writers, readers, Independent people and mostly teens that find themselves torn within themselves. If I could gather all of you and get to know each and every one of you, I would. I would. I would squeeze my eyes half shut and swallow back all the poison left in my throat and be very nice and polite and when Im ready to scream, I will not make a scene out of it. I will sway to the side and be very gentle. Only when the distance will be purchased may I be screaming quietly. Almost cheerfully. Without really moving the ballance of the earth, of course, I wouldnt want to do that.

I dont know what must change, but it got to change now, I keep on walking in circles and that only makes me worse. I suck at being a good friend and I suck at comitting to an idea. I wish I could just be captured correctly without even having to explain myself. Like, say, today at the beach. It was like I was correct, like my thoughts were leading me into the right directions and the tremendous waves that knocked me down once or twice were understanding, almost apologetic. I thought about me thinking. I flipped inside my own body and stood strong against my own mind. Split. I thought about me touching the sand and then again about me being some kind of a lunatic inside my own head, it was correct. Refreshing. I was a penguin, a dancing penguin like in that children movie about the penguin who danced and danced and got lost and couldn't find his kind. I danced and danced persuading a reality that didnt exist, loosing myself completely in the process and loosing my kind. The beach is such a perfect place , I would love to spend it with someone I care about, my kind, I thought as I walked in the shallow water. I picked up an elegant grey rock and helf on to it for a while. I thought, I would get rid of these heavy clothes and wear something airy that the wind would cherish, Ill inhabit in a little tent with them and cover myself with a blanket when the wind gets tired of holding back its powers. It was ok to know I had plans , even though they are like junk to my rookie veins.


Mat


I slipped the rock back in my pocket.