So I was driving back late at night after welcoming a guy back from a trip, and I realized I had almost never driven this impaired. Now I'm not talking about alcohol, I hadn't had any at all; I'm talking about a full-fledged tired, slightly sick, dehydrated, pounding ambient music Nos crash.
I realized my situation, understood the danger as I cruised unaware through green lights and took the turns, not realizing my destination. I hit over 75 in a 55 and was not disturbed at all (I guess I also knew, in an unaware sort of way. that this road was never patrolled by cops). After that I drove exactly the speed limit, not because I was worried about the law, but because my mind couldn't understand doing anything but making the needle match the numbers.
I started to sweat, my fingers started to tingle, my hands started to shake and my mind went haywire. More thoughts went through my head in 3 minutes than should have passed in an hour of hard thinking. The rest of this will be my trying to explain those thoughts (I swear to God, as if that mattered to me, that I was NOT high).
First of all, I realized my life has gone completely off its tracks. The people I associate with, the things I'm willing to do, the language I use is a 180 from what I use to be. Quite frankly, I don't give a flying fuck. If it doesn't hurt anyone else, I don't think there is a single self-destructive action that I'm not ok with. Not that I want it, but I wouldn't stop someone if they were doing it. I also think that most of my friends would agree with this assessment. It's our fucking lives, let's live! Not in some great cheesy, happy life, but in the full colors. The tabacco addiction, the fights, the bitching, the late nights falling into early mornings barely staying awake at work. Living 100 percent, and crashing horribly, cause it's better than the constant 60 percent that is supposed to be good for us.
I know I don't have any awareness of the meaning of my own existance. I realize I am absolutely insignificant. Even if I was the President of the United States, I'd just be a fucking blip on the radar screen of existance, that shows up one sweep and is gone. I didn't at all want to crash and die, but nor did I not want to crash and die. I suppose I realized that death is unpredictable beyond understanding, and when I die I die, there's no real preventing it. We're just doing things that are supposed to reduce the chances a bit here and there.
I also realized with more than a bit of regret that I'm rotating friends like bullets in a revolver. I'm great at making friends, but I'm aweful at hanging on to them. I start seeing who they are, and they get less interesting so I become more and more of an asshole. I think I may be close to burning the most recent set. I've left my Christian friends, I've been leaving my well-mannered friends, and I'm becoming disinterested in my drunken friends. What am I gonna do about this? This is actually the only thing that I cared about, probably cause everytime I walk away I hurt someone.
Throughout much of this thinking, I was listening to music that was complete contridiction. It was "If the Brakeman Turns my Way" by Bright Eyes. The line: "Gotta find yourself somewhere to level out" rang in my mind; but I've given up on that completely. I will never level out. I'm a walking disaster, half out-of-my-mind, completely worked-through, every possibility reasoned out, but not a single answer for a question that matters. So I live on, completely and utterly careless; sails raised high, spinning the wheel in wild abandon with a huge grin on my face. I'll take it all in and try not too hard to understand, cause in between some breath, and a snap of black, it will all end.
Listening to "If the Brakeman Turns my Way" by Bright Eyes and "Mr. Blessington's Imperialist Plot" by Astronautalis
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