136718689

So, I was sitting on the floor, in the basement of a dirt-bag drop out, hitting his bong (Optimist Prime) when I decided to think about my life a little bit. Sitting there in the fucking mold stench of this guys’ cold-ass basement, I realized that my life has totally came to a stop. It reminded me of painfully back-breaking, slow motion, gravity defiance at its best. At that point all I could pay attention to was the bass of the happy hardcore running through my veins. My pulse jumping to the shit blasting out of his iPod headphones. My focus was directed to the minute hand on the clock, ticking by like nobody gave a fuck. I was tripping the fuck out, all I could see was this fucking minute hand and all I could hear was this continues hyper bass. My hands were glued to my cigarette and my legs glued to the floor. I was absolutely fucking stuck. Then my mind morphed into a sub-conscious state. It was like I was narrating my own life. I spoke about my multi-personalities, how I can act like this, how I can’t act like that. Shit, this reminded me of the time I fell into the K-hole and couldn’t talk for a week to anybody. Drugs are bad mkaay?