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Bluelight Crew
I pretty much lost my sanity for a while after I got mock-executed. gYou accept that you will die, and you close your eyes. My life was such a mess, a bullet would be a nice solution. I didn't think that much about family and friends; I thought about all the things I wanted to do, but now, I would never do them.
That stung, but I knew everything would soon shut down.
But no bullet came. The empty chamber rattled between my teeth.
After this, accepting that I'll die and then survive, it turned my view of life and death and everything between upside down.
Most of the core values I had died; most of what I'd call illusions now, but dreams then, evaporated.
I've had two jobs since then.
But it ends up the same way; I'm thinking to myself, this is stupid. This is meaningless.
I'm selling off my life by the hour, and I'm not going to be, nor do, want a carrer within a corporation.
At my last job, I just walked away. Dropped the tools, took my clothes and went home.
Sent my boss a text.
I quit.
Bu
Since then I've been living with my dad in his big apartment; four bedrooms, two toilets, two people.
I've decided to fully commit myself to what I've been half-assing for a long time; I'm gonna write.
I most likely will fail; I won't be a new Bukowski, Baer or Palahniuk;
that's fine by me.
But I'd rather fail doing something I love than fail at something I hate (Bukowski said something like that).
I've been broke, homeless at times, living in small rooms, barely making rent and having cash for food and leisure.
Now I sling MD and tabs and a mix of other fun things for a "paycheck".
I don't want to be old either. At 50, I'll clock out. Having made that decision is an enormous relief.
I've got a debt I haven't paid a penny to for over three years. I bet I owe them closer to 250k.
That doesn't concern me either.
I spend my days cleaning the house, writing, meeting homies, writing some more, and then some.
I do what I feel like even though I'm (almost) always verging on being broke.
Having no money is not a burden to me, it makes things easier
Fuck the human drama. From up above, we're bugs under the sun.
Until one day, we aren't.
When that day comes, I want to feel I did my life the way I wanted, disastrous or not.
Have I gone completely off the rails here?
I'm happier that I've ever been.
That stung, but I knew everything would soon shut down.
But no bullet came. The empty chamber rattled between my teeth.
After this, accepting that I'll die and then survive, it turned my view of life and death and everything between upside down.
Most of the core values I had died; most of what I'd call illusions now, but dreams then, evaporated.
I've had two jobs since then.
But it ends up the same way; I'm thinking to myself, this is stupid. This is meaningless.
I'm selling off my life by the hour, and I'm not going to be, nor do, want a carrer within a corporation.
At my last job, I just walked away. Dropped the tools, took my clothes and went home.
Sent my boss a text.
I quit.
Bu
Since then I've been living with my dad in his big apartment; four bedrooms, two toilets, two people.
I've decided to fully commit myself to what I've been half-assing for a long time; I'm gonna write.
I most likely will fail; I won't be a new Bukowski, Baer or Palahniuk;
that's fine by me.
But I'd rather fail doing something I love than fail at something I hate (Bukowski said something like that).
I've been broke, homeless at times, living in small rooms, barely making rent and having cash for food and leisure.
Now I sling MD and tabs and a mix of other fun things for a "paycheck".
I don't want to be old either. At 50, I'll clock out. Having made that decision is an enormous relief.
I've got a debt I haven't paid a penny to for over three years. I bet I owe them closer to 250k.
That doesn't concern me either.
I spend my days cleaning the house, writing, meeting homies, writing some more, and then some.
I do what I feel like even though I'm (almost) always verging on being broke.
Having no money is not a burden to me, it makes things easier
Fuck the human drama. From up above, we're bugs under the sun.
Until one day, we aren't.
When that day comes, I want to feel I did my life the way I wanted, disastrous or not.
Have I gone completely off the rails here?
I'm happier that I've ever been.