The Poison's Killer

I had some sort of drunken epiphany last night, but seeing as how I'm not drunk now, I dunno where it went.
Shouldn't have been drinking anyway, being hella sick and all. And with painkillers in your bloodstream. Whew.

Went to C.B. & Potts to hang out with Tim, Jess, Corey, and Aaron. Aaron bought me a shot called "Liquid Cocaine" and I see where it gets its name...shit will FUCK you up.
Drinking is starting to lose its luster. I typically only do it with friends in a social situation, but it's starting to get old...my body is starting to hate it I think. My body is starting to hate a lot of things. Namely inactivity. If I'm not screaming and jumping around in someone's basement somewhere, I'm not really doing anything. Music: It's all I want to think, breathe and be. Everything else is just a distraction, and I have to realize that and act accordingly.

I am composed of detriments, angry words and obscenities, after all...

Lately everyone's acting like I need to be told what to do: and I don't. I'm 22 fucking years old, I've been out on my own since the day after high school was over; I don't need to be told what, where, when and how to do things. I know I don't exactly live the way I should, especially on the monetary end...but that doesn't mean I need people telling me how to do things differently. I'm still alive, so I'm doing something right. I'll change shit up when I'm good and ready.

Suddenly I really regret the events that took place last week. I can't do shit except watch TV, can't even fuckin' clean without getting aggravated. It's funny to see how much you actually need two hands.
I should have just let it go, but I don't think those 3 assholes had any intention of letting me go. Perhaps I would have been in that situation no matter what I did...and if I didn't react the way I did, I could be in the hospital right now, if not dead. Who knows? All I know is they better have learned a fucking lesson, they better think twice before trying to jump motherfuckers because they don't like their skin color, then I won't have to feel so bad...

And that brings me to another point: why the fuck does everyone have a problem with my attitude, interests and lifestyle in combination with my skin color? Is it just because I'm in "Yuppieville" or what? I don't remember any divine being mentioning the sacred texts of "Proper Racial Behavior." I would imagine they look something like this:
1) Thou shalt not listen to anything but booty jams and 50 Cent.
2) Thou shalt not dress in anything but gangsta apparel.
3) Thou shalt not display any sort of intelligence, unless it has to do with guns, robbing people, drugs or smackin' bitches.
4) Thou shalt not speak in anything other than ebonics, no one will be able to get past the fact that you're not speaking it unless you actually are, then you're cool.
5) If these rules are not followed, then you shall pay dearly through aggravation, frustration, and the occasional scuffle. And "your own kind" will treat you like shit and look at you as if you're crazy. And they'll laugh when you walk by, too. Then when you ask them what's up, they'll start craning and moving their necks like a dying Ostrich, waving a singular finger in the air at you, and get very agitated for no real reason.

I love being me though (at least at the moment). Things are slowly getting better, I just gotta be patient. This whole broken hand thing leaves me with a lot of time to look at my surroundings and figure out what exactly it is that I'm doing wrong. I don't look so down on myself anymore...I'm starting to see the good qualities I have that people have always spoken of...

And I'm starting to see that I complain too fucking much.

At this moment in time, I only have one goal, one thing to work towards; and that's just getting my attitude together by the time my hand heals so I can conquer everything...
...because my dreams are telling me something lately...and I know it's not just the medication making them crazy...

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