Alcohol dosent cause hangovers, waking up does! - fittychloe
Captain Cynic Guides
Administrative Contact
Talk Talk
Philosophy Forum
Religion Forum
Psychology Forum
Science & Technology Forum
Politics & Current Events Forum
Health & Wellness Forum
Sexuality & Intimacy Forum
Product Reviews
Stories & Poetry Forum
Art Forum
Movie/TV Reviews
Jokes & Games
Photos, Videos & Music Forum

in light of death and argument

User Thread
 34yrs • F •
thetrackshome is new to Captain Cynic and has less than 15 posts. New members have certain restrictions and must fill in CAPTCHAs to use various parts of the site.
in light of death and argument
Last night I wrote a letter to my family, in response to one my mother wrote. I took a pill that is supposed to cure the confusion. I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and the wind was empty, it blew through and I did not feel it. It blew and I felt nothing. I felt no agitation, I felt no annoyance if I was cold because if I was the pill made me feel nothing. I could of wept standing on their porch, I could of slept and either way I could of died and I will. Tomorrow and the way of our ways will hold death on tops of our heads, so we hold them straight, chin up like we're practicing etiquette with a book on our head. She threatened this in her letter. Testimonials of others lives can hold par like a job and it brings our concise, worriesome lives humbling down into the acceptance of those lost. There was smoke in my hair. The torridness of my lover, the emanation in the air, was in his bed alone that night. My face was in front of a screen, it stayed there until the sun came up my eyes closed, they were seeing nothing and touching no dreams. Rapidly I kept touching the insides of my thoughts, touching a base, making sure it was still there. Like I am now, tonight, touching my base, sitting in his house. Not speaking to him because if he is there, I am okay, and I am sane and not just inside this brain or my parents house alone. Even though the ride home tonight was a good one, the silhouettes of the felt trees wound past and their ambiguity was familiar like a pattern on wallpaper. Spending time with my parents sends me into their past. Rocky, terrible, honest, loveless, beautiful, and without error. It played out the only way it should of, and I was supposed to be sitting there in adolescent skin, could have been twirling my hair, or snapping gum, but I had nothing to say and no desire to eat besides a pill that would plateau this heart filled with misconception and trapped/caged discomfort. The only way to describe my heart is discomfort, confusion about if there is no other way but this way for it all to play out.

| Permalink
in light of death and argument
About Captain Cynic
Common FAQ's
Captain Cynic Guides
Contact Us
Terms of Use
Privacy Policy
General Forum Rules
Cynic Trust Levels
Administrative Contact Forum
Lost Password
General Discussion
Philosophy Forums
Psychology Forums
Health Forums
Quote Submissions
Promotions & Links
 Captain Cynic on Facebook
 Captain Cynic on Twitter
 Captain Cynic RSS Feed
 Daily Tasker
Copyright © 2011 Captain Cynic All Rights Reserved.   Terms of Use   Privacy Policy