Lucid

In order to grasp true lucidity, one must rely on their own perceptions, unfettered by the constraints of common thought. It is only once we go a little bit mad that we experience the clarity of sanity.

Maybe we all sound as crazy to him as he sounds to us.

One of the most beautiful, confident, self-assured women I have ever met felt threatened by my presence (read: hopeless girlish crush on her boyfriend) when I felt myself to be a socially and physically awkward 15 year old. Maybe there's something to this. I'm not sure whether her perception or mine was closer to the truth. Either I came off a lot better than I felt, or she was a lot less confident on the inside than on that cucumber-cool exterior.

Oh promised land, what a wicked ground.
Build a dream, watch it all come down.

People squirm when I smile at them on the bus. At first I was doing it to be friendly, now, I'll admit, I'm kinda doing it to see them squirm. And to see if I can find someone who doesn't.

Oh god, he looks exactly the same. He still won't talk to me, but now I can't hope to walk past him without knowing he's there. Hell in a handbasket.

If you want games, I'll play. Games are fun, but don't do me any favours. I don't want your pity.

Bloody hell if you'd just eat a few more vegetables! I know that it's more complicated than that, but part of me just wants my good old friend back. I want to be the more damaged one again, but it's only partially so you won't have to be. How silly a hat do I have to wear before you'll notice me again?

But the half-finished bottles of inspiration lie like ghosts in my room.

I don't know how it's so easy for them. These things don't come easily to me.

Today's what, the 14th? I miscounted, it's coming up on nine weeks now. Hell.

Hyenas laugh when they're agitated.

Maybe a little rampage is what I need...

Another Saturday night, and I ain't got nobody,
I got some money 'cause I just got paid.
How I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way.

Why do I already know everything I read in Cosmo this month? Well, except for that trick with the... never mind. But how come I'm so much more sure of what I already know because now I've read it in Cosmo?

Poor brokenhearted baby. I'm having a hard time mustering sympathy and stifling I-told-you-so's. I'm lonely too, I've been lonely longer, and you weren't going to do a damn thing about it, so why should I?

Good night and good luck.
Don't worry, you can have mine. I'm sure not using it.
Daydream Believer

That Damn Kid

I've been lots of damn kids. Recently too. That damn kid who made the burger wrong. That damn kid who ate ice cream for dinner one night. That damn kid who came home drunk and disorderly, and spent the next day complaining about various hangover-related symptoms. That damn kid who mixed up the orders at the restaurant and put caramel syrup on the apple pie, even though the man who ordered the pie was watching his sugar and didn't want the syrup. So that damned kid ate it after the man sent it back. I've been all these damn kids, and that fact doesn't make me a bad person, doesn't make me a criminal. I'm half inclined to ask what kind of damn kid this lady once was, although she'd have to dig a lot deeper in her memory to find out. Maybe those damn kids are different, but I doubt it. Those damn kids that sit across the street on the porch drinking beer on weekend nights probably aren't any more dangerous than the damn kid who's writing this. I'm not sure whether to be more offended on their behalf or my own. In her defence, they probably call her the batty old lady across the road. Maybe that gives her the right to call them those damn kids.
I wish it didn't have to be this way.

Daydream Believer