overboard {parker & talon}
Feb 25, 2022 1:20:30 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Feb 25, 2022 1:20:30 GMT -5
I fucking hate sleeping.
People talk in tedious tizzies about the adventures their dreams bring in like a lighthouse to a shore, but I don't get it. There is only ever two things to gain from dreams: a nightmare way worse than actual life or a wonderful landscape laced with euphoria that just makes you depressed as hell when you actually wake up. Seriously, it's either get mind fucked or get depressed when you realize reality is back with another shovel to shove straight into your face.
Speaking of, my therapist thinks I'm a pessimist, but I disagree. I wasn't always like this. The pills, the joints, the lines of god knows what... absolutely my brand. Yet I wasn't always this... severe? No, that shit comes from your brother dying while you're high on some bluffs. That comes from emotional trauma and identity crises and failed relationships that leave you wondering whether you're worth loving and a long line of other things that usually end up back on the dead brother thing.
My eyes blink.
What time is it?
3:30 am.
I want to smoke.
Throwing off the complete canvas of swathed silk sheets, I stumble free from the shackles of my bed. Amid the awkward dance, something shatters as my off-balance elbow crashes across the bed side table. I get the growing feeling it was the lamp considering the room is now much darker than it was just several seconds earlier. However, I don't let myself mourn the loss for long as I pop something out of my pocket and into my mouth. Luckily, based on the feeling between my lips, it's one of my joints.
Next thing I know, I'm wrapped up in the robe they've provided me and I'm wandering down the hall. My Mom would smack me upside the head if she could see the way I just let myself into Parker's room without even a single knock. That's okay though, Parker will probably pay it back with a spear through my eye in a couple days anyway. So I'd count us even. Plopping myself right down onto the bed next to her without a single shred of doubt, I play with the joint between my lips.
"Do you think they give a shit about smoking inside?"
People talk in tedious tizzies about the adventures their dreams bring in like a lighthouse to a shore, but I don't get it. There is only ever two things to gain from dreams: a nightmare way worse than actual life or a wonderful landscape laced with euphoria that just makes you depressed as hell when you actually wake up. Seriously, it's either get mind fucked or get depressed when you realize reality is back with another shovel to shove straight into your face.
Speaking of, my therapist thinks I'm a pessimist, but I disagree. I wasn't always like this. The pills, the joints, the lines of god knows what... absolutely my brand. Yet I wasn't always this... severe? No, that shit comes from your brother dying while you're high on some bluffs. That comes from emotional trauma and identity crises and failed relationships that leave you wondering whether you're worth loving and a long line of other things that usually end up back on the dead brother thing.
My eyes blink.
What time is it?
3:30 am.
I want to smoke.
Throwing off the complete canvas of swathed silk sheets, I stumble free from the shackles of my bed. Amid the awkward dance, something shatters as my off-balance elbow crashes across the bed side table. I get the growing feeling it was the lamp considering the room is now much darker than it was just several seconds earlier. However, I don't let myself mourn the loss for long as I pop something out of my pocket and into my mouth. Luckily, based on the feeling between my lips, it's one of my joints.
Next thing I know, I'm wrapped up in the robe they've provided me and I'm wandering down the hall. My Mom would smack me upside the head if she could see the way I just let myself into Parker's room without even a single knock. That's okay though, Parker will probably pay it back with a spear through my eye in a couple days anyway. So I'd count us even. Plopping myself right down onto the bed next to her without a single shred of doubt, I play with the joint between my lips.
"Do you think they give a shit about smoking inside?"
