vaux

I'm trying hard to move along with things but the past keeps fucking me up. It does that. Yo get to a point where the world catches up with you snares you and just doesn't wanna let you go. I figure that I'll be beyond it in a couple of years, and by that time, the world will haev forgotten about my existence.

I'm looking for life after dreams. I donn't think I know what to do, really. There's no advice, there's no self-help guides, barely anyone to talk with in a similar fix. We just all know that it's whatever it is.

I know what I need. I need rock bottom, and I need it fast. I'm living on a diet of crappy media, and it's affectign my thoughts to a pretty retarded degree. I need a flush out. Maybe a cerebral dialysis machine. Something to take all the bad crap outta my head and just replace it with someone else's fresh thoughts.

* * * * *

My past came up to me the other day. I didn't recognize it, at first. Thought it was a ga. But there it was, huddled in rags, asking me for a dollar. I yanked out the dollar, gave it to them (I owed it that much) and tried walking away.

But it didn't work, see. The past took my token gesture and made it something so much more. And the fact that I even acknowledged it meant that I had created an artificial responsibility to it.

Fucking hell. I got mad and tried to walk faster. No dice. he past just kept after me, doggedly. Didn't wanna be alone tonight, it said. Why don't we go for a drink?

It wouldn't end. It would never end. After drinks, we slept together. After that, it was like we were married, but without the good stuff that comes with it. Like moving along.

The past had a weird twitch. what it would do is just bury itself up to the nexk and stay there for a while. One time, it dug itself completely in the sand...and that was the oppourtunity for me to run for my life.

Stay buried, past. I'm fuckin' sick to death of you.