Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is your brain on drugs: Stoned stoned stooooned. I guess at sometime I should explain my recent drug fetish... maybe. Maybe no one cares, or maybe everyone cares. I know I don't really. It's a phase, like everything. Like the moon, sometimes books, sometimes video games, sometimes the computer. I Cut off my nails, and ate the world's best dinner, and then some dorritos, and then an ice cream sammich. And you know? That ice cream sandwich was really almost as good as kissing. I don't tell you I love you any more. You. But, I don't think it's wounded you any. Because you closed that window I left open for you to climb back in. The .00000000001% chance you had to say the magic words to make all of the bad go away. It's all gone because you didn't try hard enough to remember my birthday. The post office still works, because I got a present in the mail from my mom. It would have been simple to write me a letter. You didn't. But, I love you anyway. You just can't hurt my feelings any more. And last night, I actually used my vibrator. I hadn't used it in months and months. And, because it's been so long, I'd swear it felt like I was a virgin all over again. Except I wasn't nervous. Really, why I get stoned? It's because it slows me down long enough to really appreciate everything. The lawnmower sound, my grandmother's cooking, the spray from a sneeze on my arm, the smoke curling from my cigarette, all of the lips mine have graced, and even the acute pain in my foot from lack of circulation. And that's it, folks. I'm going to go space out and maybe watch my SUPER FRIENDS DVD! Damn. I know you're all jealous. 7:02 p.m. - 2003-05-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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