There’s a five alarm fire and I just remembered my desire. I wanna go into the sky and keep going higher.
Y’all don’t even know how bad I want this.
When I was a preteen I climbed a tree and reached for the stars. It took the firemen like an hour to talk me down but I saved on time by falling out of the tree instead. I may have spent six or seven years in intensive care and had my Sega Genesis taken away for part of that period but it was totally worth it to live the dream for just a moment.
Having spent most of my late childhood/early teens in the hospital without even so much as a day pass left me unable to cope with the social pressures of high school. When I wasn’t busy being thrown into every object imaginable (Glass beaker displays were the worst!) I spent my days looking forward to the night so I could stare at the stars. I just wanted to be among the stars sooooooooo hard it hurt me deeply.
Now where was I . . .
Oh right! I’m being burned alive in this fire! I think this will have to be the end of the post as I am now dead. Cheers!
The sense of paranoia that happens when you reach a certain level of over-tired is pretty scary at the time (while it occures), although it can be amusing after the fact. That fear of never waking up doesn’t happen any other time. Well, maybe after a day of eating donair(s) and pizza(s) as is absolutely necessary from time to time.
I’m severely disappointed by the lack of hallucinations that happen when I’m this tired. Actually I’m quite thankful because the mere concept of hallucinations is something that I’m afraid of, but on the other hand I figure such a thing would make for some interesting writing material y’know? Maybe I should go back to abusing NeoCitran.
Oh man, that stuff was awesome! One time had this dream that hot dog wieners became illegal somehow and on the way to school (I would’ve been 16 or 17 at the time) I walked by an alleyway where a sketchy guy was dealing illicit hot dogs cooked on a secret barbeque. Then the next night I had this other dream where the police busted some kid’s birthday because his parents were serving hot dogs. It was hardcore. They were driving their police cars through the lawn table things and everything. Man, had I kept that up I could’ve written some sort of novel . . .
But no . . . Instead here I am just debating on if I should go to bed three hours early tonight or not. Lame.