"The box"

let me paint a picture for you....

... its one thirty in the morning... alone i sit, criss crossed in the middle of my light brown carpeted floor in this empty room.... to my left is some instructional music books... ahead of me is my keyboard and recording unit... to my right is all my music and books... neatly stacked on my bookshelf... and a rare copy of the who's "who's next" on vinal... up on the top of my bookshelf i have a small one foot tall anubis statue... and my copy of nirvana's rarity box set... next to that is my smashing pumpkins aeroplane flies high box set... on the wall behind that is some crosses from when i was a child... next to that is some psycodelic artwork from when i used to be into pink floyd.... and speaking of them.... their posters of the wall and dark side of the moon line the whole room.... except for the big "rush" canvass that covers one wall.... a super nintendo guards the space behind me... even though it dosnt quite work anymore... its from 1994 i think... i got four games for it... super mario world... two star wars games and a shooting game called tin star.... ive also got me a small tv huddled in a corner with a playstation two attached to it.... its just a little less broke then the super nintendo.... the sick lighting comes from the kitchen.... its florecent... and it seems so mundayne.... on top of my microwave is my most prized posetion right now.... nine inch nails tickets for next friday.... i got them today.... in the next room is my bed... a dresser and trash bags full of clothes.... and i have a bathroom too... with a toothbrush and soap and shampoo and a few green towels.... as far as food goes... i eat rootbeer floats all day long.... and moldy bread sits on top of the refridgerator.... sometimes i wish i had more.... like a bigger paycheck... or a truck that did not break down every week... or perhaps even a microphone... so i could get on with my music.... but thats all dreaming to me.... besides.... all of this is my own... no one elses... and all of this was built out of a nothingness.... built out of a dark passing that i had to endure.... tonight... it echoes in my head... no one quite knows too much about my dark passing... i try to keep it veage when i explain it.... i tell them i got messed up in drugs... i tell them i nearly killed myself on more then one occasion weather it be a thought of suicide.... or perhaps overdosing because i didnt know my own limitations... i keep it so veage because i dont want to go back to it... im too afraid to look at what i was.... compared to my new self... but when i was in my dark passing... i kept very accurate records of what was going on... private journals to try and help me out of it.... lots of songs written... lots of songs.... to deal with what the hell was wrong with me... but now i am sober... i have a girlfriend, and a place, and a good job, with a good future it seems, if my truck dosnt keep breaking down... i find myself doing unthinkable things.... like lecturing people on why its bad to drink... and how smoking weed makes you stupid... and how popping pills will kill you.... things that only six months ago i would of shot myself for saying.... sometimes i feel like such a hypocrite...

i really dont know who's side i am on anymore... as someone said "the line begins to blur" and indeed, i have left myself somewhat broken out of everything.... i dont know what im fighting for... if im even fighting at all... here i grew up my entire childhood swearing against breaking the law... i was a good child. only picking fights with my brother never giving my parents too much greif... hell i remember the first time i swore... and i was grounded for weeks... but somehwere in between things got skrewed up.... and i got screwed up.... and soon i was grounded all the time for everything... it was like i was constantly grounded... and i remember when i realized that i just didnt care anymore... and i remember that at first that scared me.... i didnt care... which meant i could just drop dead... so i tried to care... but it was sooo fake... so fucking fake... i didnt care... so i hid myself in all those fucking drugs... and then i was a druggie with druggie friends who did druggie stuff... and i became one of the family... i left my parents... had a band... wrote songs.... played music... partied all the time... and then a girl made me stop.... she wasnt for all that stuff..... and before i killed myself i was lucky to stop.... but still... i feel like i dont know where i belong anymore... being sober is good.... partying was good... im just lost.... everyone wants to be my friend.... and then a deamon is born and my thoughts start to scatter.... and I FUCKING FREAK OUT ! ! ! and then its not the drugs that are making me crazy... its myself... and i claw and i scratch and i try to escape this dungion that i have built, and i try to get away.... but im always in this wall... this void... this hole... this box that i have created
Posted on August 17th, 2008 at 01:45am

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