Whenever I think of us, all I can imagine is two-person planes crashing into the ocean and catching the whole blue disaster on fire. I wish it could be the snow that we crashed into for once, but you hate the snow and love the ocean, so it's always that damn monster of a sea. If only my sailor's legs could overpower my terrified mind. If only the plane didn't drown me every single time.
- - -
Within the past few weeks I've been exposed to more negative influences than I ever have in my entire life. It's almost like I've started over from the beginning. The summer always drags me away from my school year friends, but this time around I'm replacing them with all the wrong people: the users and abusers, bad seeds and royal fuck-ups, the drop-outs of society. These are the people I've surrounded myself with. Despite the feeling of corruption crawling up my spine, I do not regret this rotation of friends.
- - -
It's kind of funny how simply I can tell if I'll befriend someone or not. When I was a child, I picked my friends on looks. If they looked like a crazy person, we were cool. Now that I'm grown I've begun to see the truth to it all. It's not the way someone looks that sways me, or even the way they talk. It's all in the way a person thinks, reasons. I think of all of my closest friends, and I realize that I have befriended only multi-leveled people. I have no friends who are simply one level. In other words, I have no friends who are what they appear. Everyone I like is so in depth and worldly. I have smart friends, sure, but my dearest are all world-smart first. It's beautiful.
- - -
It seems like everyone I know is having a crisis of faith. Hey, guys, your god is just testing your faith! Isn't that what you all say? Well, dears, I'm pretty sure your gods wouldn't test you six times in the last two years. That is called doubt. Welcome to the world of disbelievers. We're more accepting anyway.
- - -
Why doesn't this shit hole city have a church that's open 24/7? Maybe then when it's four in the morning, and I have no where else to go, I can go there to sit in the back pew and mutter poetry under my breath. I'll write about saviors and boys with angel wings and salt water.
- - -
And it's 9am, so I'm gone.
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