How many strings did you pull today
are we the puppets?
does your jar of hearts have room for one more?
mine does, though sometimes I feel it overflows
I give every individual a different me. The reds get the me that’s shot every gun under this red sun and the blues get my creative side. The rights see my work ethic and my ability to drink beer and pretend it isn’t disgusting. The lefts see the things I’ve drawn and my opinions on the state of things. It’s easier this way, as I am intimately familiar with path of least resistance. It’s easier this way. It’s easier this way. You’re the only one that gets all of me. I think I’m in love with you, but I don’t sit around and do things like ponder a hypothetical future together: I’ve done it in the past, but I don’t think that’s you. Not yet at least. One of the things I admire the most about you is your free-spiritedness. The wind carries you and you shit gold wherever you go. I love you because I can give you my best and it is met with love, and I can give you my worst and it is met with understanding. I haven’t met anyone else like this, so I think I love you the most. Even after I thought I cracked the code and hid from you for a long time, you still let me crawl back into your arms.
Does anyone ever tell you you suck? That must be so unfamiliar. It’s unfamiliar to me too. This isn’t to say that were perfect people, just that we give the world our best and hide the worst (or maybe you don’t hide anything! Still trying to figure that out after all this time.) I’ve got a bit of a superiority complex because I paint my face for the masses and they seem to like it. Being shot down or shit on is painful but it is also eye opening. In the spring of 2015, my ex-girlfriend told me to “get over myself.” In the summer of 2018, an old friend told me to “get over myself.” Their words still echo in my head. The former said this because I assumed that she still loved me and she got defensive. The latter because I referred to her friend as a “child” (the girl in question was 15 and even at 19 myself, the gap in maturity and consciousness was that of the grand canyon. I can’t pretend to be stupid for the sake of the less intelligent but I could maybe do a better job of catering. A friend of mine with a higher IQ than me told me that there’s nothing wrong with properly estimating your worth and that other people need to “get over themselves,” but still there’s no reason to be an asshole. I often have to remind myself that others are people who have experienced just as much if not more than I have. Everyone is where they are for a reason (disregarding a higher power.)
I have to be distracted to feel okay. I need some creative endeavor in front of me, or a rhythm game or some problem hard enough to grab my attention. Or I need someone to fuck me and make me bleed. Without someone or something on my mind presently, I slip and fall. When I have myself on the mind too much the scales tip from self-love to self-loathing. I see everything we do as a distraction from the inevitable impermanence of our lives, but what a time to be alive! You can drive almost anywhere and see nearly anything, you can paint and run and love and FUCK to your heart’s content, though my heart will never be content. The fire is always lit and these distractions range from logs older than time to sticks picked up on a beach somewhere between Newport and Shanghai, though not even the former burns forever.