ashaman
Bluelighter
Note: This is copied from the dark side, so i can have more suggestions. Whilst dark side suggestions were mainly focused on the drug, this is more about the writing.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
In my mind, i am on stage. The fans are jumping up and down, and i just happen to be playing the Nirvana- Smells like teen spirit on guitar. I start to focus primarily on the music; everything fades away.
A sudden image of jealous memories flash and pushes the music into the background.
I sigh. In my head, i say 'Meth, is this all you have? it is always those selective memories... always those few. You are not very innovative, are you?'
Meth gives an evil laugh.
'Ahh. i only choose the best ones. The ones that strike at your foundations, the ones that will bring the most pain, the most distress, the most dystopia in your system.'
I laugh bitterly. Then i force my mind back onto the music; the never ending intro to smells like teen spirit. The painful image of my memories recedes and finally disappears. I feel relatively in peace.
'Ha! is this all you have? The almighty Meth is pushed away by a mere thought...'
"Oh no, little boy... i have many more..."
And one after another, those images flash before my mind's eye and causes a wave of internal pain throughout my body.
"... And more"
The images keep flashing. And flashing. Waves of pain build up in my body.
"... and more."
As the pain seems to reach a climax, i felt calm. In the eye of the storm there is calmness. I braced myself, gathered my will, and forced the image of my guitar neck, of my fingers holding the chords of smells like teen spirit. The music starts playing again. The pain fades.
During this battle, the intro to 'smells like teen spirit' must have been repeated countless times. There was once when the song wasn't strong enough, and i had to call Silver Chair's Slave song to combat it. Meth was using his tatic against me- he would sneakily play Cardigan's My Favourite Game which would lead to depressing thoughts. On and on, i fought.
And thus, in the early hours of the morning, where my mind was awake and fighting, my body slept... until even the battles themselves were forgotten.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
In my mind, i am on stage. The fans are jumping up and down, and i just happen to be playing the Nirvana- Smells like teen spirit on guitar. I start to focus primarily on the music; everything fades away.
A sudden image of jealous memories flash and pushes the music into the background.
I sigh. In my head, i say 'Meth, is this all you have? it is always those selective memories... always those few. You are not very innovative, are you?'
Meth gives an evil laugh.
'Ahh. i only choose the best ones. The ones that strike at your foundations, the ones that will bring the most pain, the most distress, the most dystopia in your system.'
I laugh bitterly. Then i force my mind back onto the music; the never ending intro to smells like teen spirit. The painful image of my memories recedes and finally disappears. I feel relatively in peace.
'Ha! is this all you have? The almighty Meth is pushed away by a mere thought...'
"Oh no, little boy... i have many more..."
And one after another, those images flash before my mind's eye and causes a wave of internal pain throughout my body.
"... And more"
The images keep flashing. And flashing. Waves of pain build up in my body.
"... and more."
As the pain seems to reach a climax, i felt calm. In the eye of the storm there is calmness. I braced myself, gathered my will, and forced the image of my guitar neck, of my fingers holding the chords of smells like teen spirit. The music starts playing again. The pain fades.
During this battle, the intro to 'smells like teen spirit' must have been repeated countless times. There was once when the song wasn't strong enough, and i had to call Silver Chair's Slave song to combat it. Meth was using his tatic against me- he would sneakily play Cardigan's My Favourite Game which would lead to depressing thoughts. On and on, i fought.
And thus, in the early hours of the morning, where my mind was awake and fighting, my body slept... until even the battles themselves were forgotten.
fucked me up good for a week