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I had a dream last night that i was offered a pipe and I walked away. The feeling was intensely real. I remember it was really hard to just walk away and i almost didn’t. But I was glad after that I had.

Someone who I really respect read my blog and told me that my writing is really good. A part of me didn’t believe him that he was telling the whole truth. I’ve always thought my writing is nothing special. It was an interesting and noted event. But the more significant event is that since then I’ve found it really hard to write on here. This is problematic. Originally I didn’t tell anyone about my blog, thinking that those that stumbled upon it from deadempire.com would be surprised but I definately was not trying to promote it. Several months later I starting letting people know about it, but i still didn’t believe that anyone cared enough to read it. So when someone read a bunch of my writing and had something other than death threats and insults to say I was pretty shocked. And I’m still shocked and trying really hard to focus on the original intent of this thing… To just be my journal open for public viewing, so that I can feel less isolated in my own head and perhaps throw my thoughts out there to the world so that I can feel more a part of the human collective conciousness.

Feeling really fucked right now. The poetry scrawled all over my desk in my room is evidence of this. So anyway, I have faith that as soon as I start to straighten out spiritually, my thinking and in turn my writing will start to straighten out as well. And by straighten out I mean more interesting, cause I’m bored myself writing this… And if you’re thinking that maybe I should try writing something that doesn’t bore me, that’s sort of the problem. I don’t know what doesn’t bore me anymore. I don’t know that the reasons and causes behind anything I’m doing right now are in fact valid or true. Everything is up in the air right now. My head feels slanted. My eyes feel like they’re bugging out of my head all day. I am anxious and feel prone to a panic attack at any moment. Crowds and loud noises make me feel really uncomfortable. Sleep is nice, when I can. It’s the only time I don’t feel crazy.

“What the fuck! who said anything about the cutting being b/c of me. as far as i know we havent talked since we broke up… and quite frankly i have no desire to. plain and clear nicholas – I DONT WANT YOU TO BE IN MY LIFE SO FUCK OFF (have you noticed that every single interaction since we ended our relationship ha been initiated by you! so fuck you and fuck off, for once nicholas stick to your word and STAY AWAY!

b”

The past few days have felt like the prelude to an awesome summer. It was warm out tonight. I was just out riding and the streets were peaceful. The moon is almost full tonight. When I’m out at night I sometimes imagine that the moon is an eye that watches me. I take comfort in the consistency of it’s nightly appearance. The crackheads were making a scene at the McDonald’s drive-thru which was hosting walk through patrons this evening because the usual walk-thru window was closed. I watched one guy infront of me twitch spastically out of control and imagined what it must feel like to have no control over your muscle movements and balance.

I did not sleep at her house tonight, although she wanted me to. It felt good to feel wanted by someone. I looked in to her eyes and touched her hair and she tossed her head away smiling a bashful grin because she hates it when i look at her. She hates it when I look in to her soul and she looks in to mine and we dream a momentary dream in the space between our intwined bodies and clasped gaze. I did not sleep at her house tonight. I told her I had to return home and do some work. This was half true. I told her the rest of the truth, that I have a complex about sleeping over at her house. I have an fear that arrises when i sleep with anyone. I love falling asleep in her embrace, but I always awake to a nagging depression and feeling of guilt. Guilt of what, i don’t know. I guess I just never feel comfortable waking up with someone else in my bed.

I need to sleep now. Hallucinating paint splatters on the floor as cockroaches.

THE FACTS:
• I’m clean and sober
• I’m doing everything I can to get better and lead a healthy life
• My thinking is getting better everyday and I am feeling better every day.
• If you are smoking meth still, your thinking is really fucked. I was there. I know this.

Smoking meth causes your brain to function abnormally. Whenever I was not so loaded that I couldn’t think or feel I felt entirely shitty about myself. If you are at all like I was, You may feel the same. Here you find yourself in a place of resentment and blame which is currently directed at me.

But really, I don’t know why you bother with me. Why do you give a fuck about me? If you think you don’t then you don’t need to read my blog. If you think that anything I am doing with my life these days, including cutting my arm open, has the slightest thing to do with you let me clarify — it doesn’t.

Anyway, I’m happy to be sober today. Anyone who reads my blog knows that I am clean. Hopefully, one day I’ll be in a position to show someone a solution to their problem like I was shown a solution.

I have friends that I call true friends. They have stuck by me and looked out for my best interests since i met them. They have never turned their backs on me, even when I turned my back on them. My true friends and I get in fights sometimes, but a resolution is always made because the relationship we share is worth more than that. They don’t team up on me. They don’t condemn me. They understand what is fancied and what is real. They, like me, aspire to live based on spiritual principles. Without these principles as the guiding force in our lives we would surely live based on our own will and would not have the relationship that we have. These are my true friends. Those that do not judge and I believe truly love me. And I love them as well.

trying to sleep and can’t. my head is zinging. can’t stop thinking. sucks. so i’m awake… and wish i could sleep.

Just went for a four hour ride on my BMX around down town. I’m actually (finally) learning how to bunny hop. Well, I did learn to bunny hop tonight but it’s pretty weak. I can get like 6 inches. once i learn to use my body more rather than my arms i should be able to hop like a meter in the air. I’m excited in anticipation for that day and i know it is soon.

I’m quitting smoking. Started taking Zyban on Sunday. I enirely stop smoking in a week or so… I’m pretty stoked on it. I’ve come to find smoking as pointless as smoking meth. Cept, i think nicotine is a harder substance to cease taking than meth. Or maybe i’m just well adjusted to stopping meth.

Last night i started feeling really fucked. I don’t really know what caused it, but it’s continued through most of today. The most observable symptom being that I’m really moody. I’ll be okay one second then slip in to a sudden harsh depression. It’s a really uncomfortable vibe. I feel raw, like i’m not wearing any skin. Like I’m stripped down to bare muscles and everyone is judging me. Really vulnerable. I am saying things that I wouldn’t expect myself to say. And i am feeling like a different person– in a bad way. I don’t feel like myself. Anyway… i hope this episode passes.

I know I’m not supposed to analyze my feelings… but fuck it, i like my amateur psychology.

Possible causes of my moodiness:
• Going on Zyban and the antidepressants fucking with my mood
• My ego having issues with girls. I may expand on this somtime but basically I’m learning a lot about relationships and how i react to girls based on my fucked up instincts.
• Doing my Step Four. Pretty fucked up shit.

I have the new Nine Inch Nails album. It’s not released in stores till May 3 but I have it. It’s good. I would describe it as NiN with less of a Ministry vibe and more of a Depeche Mode vibe. Some really cool production techniques that i want to try out and copy.

I think it’s really gutless that those of you that read this blog read about all my thoughts and dreams and some of you can’t even have the balls to leave some sort of identification when you leave a comment… so, leave your name or someway that i will know who you are if and when you are going to leave a comment.

mmm… just rolled out of bed. embracing a pillow tightly– a shitty replacement for you. I dreamt i was being chased. I was running away, either with somebody or we had gotten split up. Anyway, i was running and i was being chased by contorting faces but it was not scary. I had a feeling o0f assurance that i could easily outrun them. The environment was a familiar dreamscape – everything felt real but under close examination i was in fact inside a huge soundstage. Every object was a prop and every piece of scenery a set, a facade made of styrofoam and metal girders. Upon climbing a rope to escape my pursuers, I reached the top of a styrofoam rock embankment and leapt to another set where a movie was being filmed in a fake city scene. The building sets were all no more than 8 feet tall and i crawled on my hands and knees, because the director, i thought would be mad if i was to ruin his shot. I next remember driving in a minivan, passengers were you and a figure who felt like my dad but was chinese. Karate Kid Father. I dropped him off at his big pink chinese house and he said something wise to us but i am not sure it was important and i don’t remember now.