Our hands fit like puzzle pieces, like sex, like the computer cord into its little hole. I was, see, I was at this hippie fest and there was music and colors and lights and people and wonderful things and I was all kinds of ****** up and I needed a friend, not somebody who was gonna try to screw with me, not somebody who was gonna try to hit on me, not somebody who was gonna try to sell me something, just a friend.
And the music stopped and the band started breaking down and the crowd started breaking up and I looked up and there I was.
I am a pretty cool person, once I got to know me. Kind of an *******, but I have all these little quirks that no one else really has and I get along with myself quite well except we fight a lot because I am full of energy and I am kind of lazy and I am very spontaneous and it is hard for me to finish anything I start because I am so in love (was) with my Self that we just sat and talked all day, all weekend, all month.
Cigarettes exist so that I can smoke them. Weed exists so that I can share a bowl with my Self. Alcohol exists so that I can drink it when I am not around, so that I can try to make my Self not drink it when I am. Drugs exist so that I can learn from them. Food exists so that I can make it and we can share it, my Self and I.
But we fought. And I left. And now there is only half here, and people keep asking me where my other half is, and I can't think and my brain is all slow because there is only half a brain here and I keep wandering around my house, wandering around my mind, looking for me, looking for the me that is not there, the me that left and I want me back because I felt better, more complete, and I didn't mean to be a ***** it just came out that way I don't know why and I wish I was here again I wish I hadn't left, we drove me to the train station and I got on the train and I watched my Self leave and I cried standing there and then we drove home and I was only half I am only half I am less than that I am not a complete human being without me....
Of course, that is ridiculous, you say. Of course you are a complete human being. But you don't know, because there is no you, there is no you at all, no such thing! The only reason we have the idea of you is so we can have someone to take care of, someone to love, someone to hate. "I love you" "I miss you" "I want to be with you" "I am you" "You are me"
Well I miss me, yeah. I miss me a lot. I have these eyes that change color and I have this very soft hair and I have this very nice skin that matches perfectly with my other skin and I have these lips that fit perfectly together and when we cuddle it's like the world already ended and there is only this mass of warmth, this mass of flesh, this mass of love...
But now I am gone. I am gone and not here anymore. I am trying to be here now but it is difficult. I am trying to breathe. I am trying to think. I told me that I would call every day and I only called once today and I said I would call back but maybe I am off busy somewhere, too busy to call my Self, and I don't want to have anything to do with it anymore but how can one live a lie? How can one live in a place where one is not accepted for what/who one is?
The point is One. We all talk about that, one. And that "you" person. Maybe they're the same. I think they're all me. I create my reality and I created a me to go with my you and there was sparks and wonderful things flying through the air and now I am gone and everyone keeps calling me "you" "hey you person!" "hey you girl don't be so sad!" "hey you what's wrong with you" and I say no I am not you who is this you person I am me god dammit god jammit I am me! But not really I am only half of me because the other half went away on the train and I watched me go and it was weird and confusing and I am still confused and nauseous but how can one throw up oneself when one cannot leave oneself? How does one escape reality?
Toast does not taste any good without Jam. Some good Jam can make Toast the breakfast of champions but without it Toast is simply dry and crunchy overcooked bread and Jam is another useless jar in the fridge.
I lost my Self amongst the Nothingness. Someone please be my someone but I already have someone that someone is my Me but I am gone and I miss me please come back I implore the god within and maybe just maybe...