It's Saturday and nothing really happens. Actually, we're all stoned and - as my boyfriend calls it - wake and baked. Honestly: I've never done this before. I use to be against this, against all modes and means of influencing your mindset. But than I met this boy, and that kind of bullshit thereafter, and suddenly I sit here - wake and baked - with nothing on my mind. Nothing but a big vague blur and revealing rainbows. To make this moment meaningful, or at least rememberable - I write it down. I suddenly remembered I had a blog, this blog, something to do when all other things are done.
Done. I don't know in which way this makes me think of my boyfriend, but it certainly does. Is this what it's supposed to be? Drunk and dreamy, dreamy and done. We don't arrive at talking things through, we bless the mess with weed and wonders. We tried to, yesterday, in a pub around the corner, with perfect walls and no-one around. It didn't really work out.
Is this me, ruining the next best thing that happens to me? I admit, I thought he could be the 1. Not that I believe in numbers nor signs, I did believe he could - he could make me truly, madly, deeply happy. He can, I am still quit sure he can. But something truly scares me, and I can't manage to sort it out. Maybe it's me. Probably, it's me. It's me and my miscellaneous mindset, messing around with anything that's new and frightening. Exciting, too. Anyway: that's where the weed works. I admit it: It works. Truly, madly, deeply.
|Long Island, NY, 2010|