Garmonbozia #2

I make mistakes. Alot. When I make them I make them well. Usually I manage to stick by them and reminise about them like old friends. Drunk on vodka, high on whatever else. Making excuses for bullshit by laughing.

Laughing:
Always my way of weazling out of the awkwardness of silence.

Sometimes when I think of myself I feel overwhelmned with rage, more rarely: compassion.
Like a separate person looking at myself as a child through the kaledescope of someone elses memory. Like whatever happened to me was an acid trip gone horribly wrong and has somehow become separate to who/what I am right now.

But it's never someone else. Its always me.

I suppose its just hard to take responsibility sometimes.