Higher Ground

Dropping a class, so no more midterm.

Grateful for the people in my life.

Someone set up an account with my information and transferred $1500 out of my bank account.

Chillin in my apartment with my music blasting and pants off.

Still a 9.5/10

Night walker.

There’s almost nothing as fulfilling for me than to be able to walk by myself and look at the sky. Especially here in La Jolla, where the lights are mandated to be an odd shade of orange in order to protect some biological marine species or whatnot. The nights have become a new way to track time, and that the immensity of the night sky has become my new sunrise.

Until I moved here, I never knew what the big dipper looked like. I never knew the deepest shade of the sky. That it could have a texture, and that every time I stopped to look up, my knees would weaken from a subconscious fear that I would be hurled up into a nebula of black velvet freckled with distant burning spheres of gas. 

And every time I look at the sky and see the stars scattered all around, like the sequins left in your room after a night of dancing at a gay club, it makes me wonder how people, generations before me, had found so much comfort in it. People made sense of it, people understood it. Explorers who had nothing to go on based their travels on irrelevant bodies millions of miles away. Astronomers had drawn pictures in the sky, adding order to the spinning chaos and the earth’s movement in relation to the stars.

And maybe the reason I sometimes get so scared of the night’s vast empire is because we’ve built lights to cover it, to make sense of the night close to the ground. I only wish I had looked up more often.

And, just…fuck.

Can we not play that one game where you drag me through the depths of doubt and my own insecurities? 

Make yourself useful for once and help me decide between utter annoyance, adoration or apathy because going between the three gets a little tiresome.

Or put me out of this misery and give me a reason to hate you.

Your move.

I had a fantastic day. I love everything and everybody.

And i’m 100% sober.

This winter break I’ve isolated myself a lot more than I expected. I spent most of it asleep, by myself and in other states of mind. I needed it. They say it’s not good for humans, who by nature are social beings, to keep to themselves for too long…they get crazy right? Maybe I am crazy; I am crazy. But in my time alone, I’ve self-reflected so much. So much that I’ve stared at the inside of my soul for hours, analyzed who I was/am/want to be. I’ve thought about a lot of things, so many thoughts that I couldn’t think all of them through and left them floating around in my head to keep as conversation pieces when I’m with a semi-intelligent friend.

There’s so many things to change. Myself, the world, my wardrobe and that unbecoming habit of pulling at my split ends in public. But what I’ve learned is that there’s beauty in everything—the way that the hills seem to glitter a little more in winter because people put up Christmas lights, the tragedy of my inability to find enough words to describe my thoughts. What I’ve learned is that life is a good ride at any consumerist theme park, full of twists and turns, things that pop out at you and make you laugh or things that pop out at you and scare the shit out of you. It takes you in the dark, it makes your head hurt and ear bleed sometimes, and some will just scream the whole way through, even knowing full well there’s nothing to be afraid of. It doesn’t matter though. The important thing is that you come out laughing and get back in that godforsaken hour long line.