clone19's New Writeups

November 2, 2009 (personal)

2009-11-02T05:09:22Z

Why?

Because I can't fight the people I care about. I can't hurt someone I've called my best friend, as much as I may want to. I can't grab her by the collar and tell her to stop fucking up her life. I can't show her how angry she makes me and how much I hate her, because I love her and I need to be here for her or I will lose her forever. I can't tackle her father and start wailing on his face for being the drunken asshole he is. I can't stop her from taking that one Roxy because she "can't sleep." I can't pick her up, shake her around and yell, "WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN'T SLEEP?!" I can't do that because she is the product of her environment and until that changes she will never change. I can only stand here on the sidelines and watch her struggle.

Sometime…

October 24, 2009 (personal)

2009-10-24T06:35:20Z

Four months ago I would have expected tonight to be wild. I would have expected to be drunk as fuck at some random club in Miami with a drink in one hand and a whore-ishly delicious girl in the other. I wonder what has changed in the last few months.

My friends have changed. I used to hang out with a bunch of drug dealers and alcoholics that were really only looking out for themselves. I didn't really care too much for them. These days I consider my friends to be family. Though many of them are still involved in drugs and alcohol, life isn't solely about getting fucked up anymore. The girls I used to hang out with last year were strictly whores. Though they didn't directly take money in exchange for sex, it pretty much boiled down to that in the end. Today I'm happy to say there are only 4 or 5 girls that I associate with, and I would be willing to take a bullet for any one of them.

My focus has shifted. As opposed to being a minimalist, I actually want to do well in school. I want…

October 21, 2009 (event)

2009-10-21T01:04:26Z

Walking into my house at 8:30 PM, I am overcome with emotion. Seeing the chair where, just hours earlier, I was reborn as a human, rising from amidst the smoke and empty bags of fast-food, victorious.

Experiencing Psylocibin mushrooms is like taking your entire life and throwing it against a wall to see what sticks. Lost in a head trip, the idea of sobriety itself loses meaning. Dazed, confused and seeing crazy shapes, all reason is abandoned. You don't know what to do. Should I sit here? Should I move? Should I talk to someone? What should I say?

Your rationale becomes your only hope of escape from the trip. Think, you say to yourself, think before you do anything. Building your values and principles back up from nothing, the things that are really important in your life become apparent; the rest fades to black. You reassess everything.

"I exist," I whisper to myself, "I don't know much, but I know I exist." Feeling the "lub-dub" pulsations in your…

Can I tell you how much I want to smoke you, like this cigarette? (poetry)

2009-10-18T01:23:19Z

Ignoring all their warnings, looking for a fix
I'll open up a pack, and hold you with my lips

With two fingers I will grab you
Spark you with a light
Puffing away, I'll smoke you
You won't put up a fight

I'll breathe you in and suck you down,
lungs will hold your thoughts
In me, they will swirl around
Until they turn to naught

I'll savor your taste on my lips,
That look in your eyes,
That precious smile, curvy hips
The tattoo on your thigh

I'll consume you whole, body and soul
Your mind I'll save for last
Where your heart was, there will be a hole
You'll be mine at last

October 1, 2009 (log)

2009-10-01T07:59:13Z

Angelo and I were roommates back in the day, way back when. Recently, he got his own place about 15 minutes north of me. This is why I was surprised when he called at 11:30 PM on a Tuesday night.

"Yo, yo." This is my standard greeting.
"Hey man. Doing anything?"
"Nope. What you got in mind?"
"Nothing in particular. I'm coming through, straight?"
"Uh. Okay. See ya."

Maybe he's just bored, I thought to myself. Twenty minutes later Angelo is knocking on my door. I let him in and we sit at the table for a few minutes. There's very little to do in my house. Impulsively, we decide to get out of the house and hit up a hookah bar down the street.

After ordering a Strawberry-Vanilla blend of tobacco (with milk in the base -- try it sometime!), we small talk for a while. Angelo seems a bit down. He was like this on Saturday night as well, even though we went to an amazing party where the alcohol was flowing and the girls were glowing. Curiosity gets the best…

These are some of the best nights of my life (event)

2009-09-24T18:31:01Z

The dull thud of flesh hitting asphalt echoes across the courts. It hurts, but not enough to keep me down. The bright white court lights behind my opponent make it difficult to see his face. I struggle to get back up; the world around me is spinning and out of focus. The shadow that was my opponent a few seconds ago seems to multiply by eight- a fuzzy vision of spinning limbs. I must get to him.

My opponent weighs just under 200 pounds and has been playing football competitively for the last 4 years. I am a pothead. Swaying slightly from the last bout of hits, I manage to concentrate hard enough to maintain some sort of balance.

Hearing nothing but my own labored breathing, I rush forward and attack. Aiming at the figure in the middle, I cock back and throw two quick jabs. Anticipating this attack, he leans back and avoids my fists by no more than a few inches. Knocking my swinging fist out of his way with his left hand, his right arm cocks back and lands a blow…