kelpie_

This takes me back to old fridays in Arkansas. Finish my last class, find my friend Robyn, drive off of our conservative campus and drive around smoking, then at some point end up at the pond in some car talking with someone about philosophical bullshit while smoking pot or drinking bitch beer.
Foot prints on the foggy window, Usher or Deathcab on the play, looking for wolves in the trees but always finding one in the mirror instead.
Reckless, vain, proud, angry, selfish little thing that I was.
When hurt, the thing returns inside of me; tearing through squish and bone fragments trying to achieve what I want, when I want, how I want, unabashedly unashamedly un-astoundingly, I end up tearing something apart but mourning the destructive power when it's gone.
Never was there such self-destructive nature in anyone else I'd known.
All of that place has been left behind, but who knows just how much of our past still sleeps inside of us, waiting for the need to survive to kick in?