  A few things to talk about. One of them is the illusion of euphoric power. And the other is poetry. Firstly...my psychotic episode. The other day, after watching two pretty bad movies and drinking nothing but caffeine the entire day, plus a little spurt of popcorn and Skittles at one point, I came home at midnight to sit back and do something to stop the aching in my brain. I sat back in my dad's room and read an old magazine I'd found on the ground there; while reading it I felt some distinct changes in my thinking...suddenly I was enlightened and inspired. I kept reading, but as I was reading I felt like I could feel the emotions of the author, as weird as that sounds. Even in the most passive articles I could hear it, like it was some voice in my head. But that wasn't all. Upon further inspection and standing up, I felt really paranoid. Not only that, but essentially invincible.
I felt like I could dodge bullets, run for days and come back without breathing hard, punch thru walls, make things float, burn things by looking at them; I felt like I was more coordinated than I had ever been in my life. I felt like I could be the world's greatest chef and make something turn out exactly the way I wanted it to...really weird things like that.
It was so incredibly weird that I came into a room with my dad, and got under the covers...I stared at the ceiling for a while, and thereafter I feel asleep... I woke up at five with my dad still there. He said he had waited with me all night just to make sure I would be ok. Good guy...a few hours later I woke him up and we drove to Ashland City...yes, I did go to the camp, and no, Abby wasn't there, as I had expected. The place was boneyard quiet as we pulled up. There were no people anywhere, just the birds. There was a garage and a house first thing...the garage looked as if it had been ransacked which further added to our disquiet. Looking down the hill tho, we saw some kids sitting under a tree. Down the hill....the first signs of life.
There was a pavillion nearby. A lady walking out asked if she could help us, and we asked if Abby was still there. She said she would go check and we followed her to the foot of the pavillion. A woman claiming to be Abby's camp....person....thing....told us some things about Abby's time there, and the camp itself. Well... Not just some things. A lot of things. Quite a long winded person. But we learned some interesting stuff.
And then it was homeward, and that brings us to section two... Which is.... Something I haven't done in a long time... Which is be very charming... I think the word they use most ofter ("they" being the female species)... Is "sweet"... I need to write... A really good... Um... Poem. Or...I did write this poem...but I don't know whether or not it's good. I hope so. Something tells me that it is, but I have the "author's doubt syndrome"... Ok, the big problem with me is...I have a big block in my head about ideals on "love" and "relationships" and "stuff like that" "". Ever since my little ordeal during the year, I have become what is known as "fucked up" and "screwed". The reason behind this poem is rather interesting...even I don't know my intentions in writing it anymore. Of course, for security's sake, I can't divulge the details right now but... Damn. It sounds good for now.
It sounds great for now. It sounds nice, pleasant, something that any girl would be looking for, her poet in...well it's got to be pantaloons, no good poet wears armour, especially of the shining variety. And why the hell am I being so damned poetic? I hate me. Bonus. So...I've asked Linds to help me out by being a "guinea pig" and reading her this masterpiece...which presents another problem... I dunno if I can read this thing outloud. I mean...god. I'm probably going to have to email it or something.
ARgh. I wish I wasn't so screwed up so I could read the stupid poem and not feel like it's the end of the world if things don't go down like I expected them too.
I hate me.
No wonder my record production label is called "I'm Gonna Kill Me Music". No f=ing wonder. 
