It’s 2:30 in the afternoon, I just woke up. Came to a realization today, I’m stuck. Stuck in a limbo life, that needs repairing, so much torment in my head that its not worth sharing. But sadness has struck a chord, like last night when I played the wrong song. And in my head, I realize that I am empty, that I guess I don’t belong. In my heart there is blackness like a smile that lacks sincerity, I guess in the end I am bruised internally, losing my head with no sympathy. It’s tough when you drink, and wish you could do more. Its tougher when you have to take 6 pills before you sleep, and more when you wake up and face the world. I know I have a problem, my hands they shake as I write this. Life is a nightmare, probably. When Its over, is there an end that really exists. And am I good enough, to change my head, my heart, and my soul, and everything else? It takes two to lie together, in a heart felt apology, from a broken house. I haven’t quite hit rock bottom, but the time is coming when I do. And all I ask is their forgiveness, for me who was never meant to be you.

Maybe I’m not that bad, just sick of staying stagnant
i guess in the end, its all just fragments of a puzzle,
a broken skull that feels damaged, but with bandages, I’ll be right back at it.

Maybe I’ll kick into high gear, reach my prime, and keep on and kick out the tragic, maybe there is more to me then this hollow shell, of years of mania and madness.

So here it is, mania faced with a drink that can’t be taken, shit, it’s this fool on the hill that makes me feel ill, every weekend leaves me stirred and shaken. I guess the light at the end of the tunnel comes with a message, to leave the world with good intentions, to break the monotony of melodramatics, and come real to the point of no backlashes.

so yeah, i had a bad open mic, maybe drank to much whiskey, maybe it will be better next week, November 30th I’ll try not so tipsey to stop talking on the mic, and come with it naturally and fuck all those people who boo and hiss, I don’t give a shit, its my time to sing twelve lines of a song, that I wrote sober and sang it shit storm. So maybe i shouldn’t dress my name to mean man the storm has no peace for pain. And maybe I should refrain from any substance that enters my brain, be it alcohol caffeine and definitley no weed. No lets try to heal each wound seperately, first goes the drinking, then the wack thinking, then those energy drinks i’m constantly drinking. Then when Im strong enough, I’ll get rid of the nicotine, and scourge my lungs. Yeah 12 steps to improvement. Keep searching for the new you. new job, new shoes, new world, new life. new everything nice, and keep it logged in when ever I write.

Maybe I should read a book, or write one

just another jagged thought by Jason

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