I missed you last night. I'm not entirely sure where all the events led, one after the other, but I found myself on the beach with Leon and two other persons that I don't know that well, and probably never will. The drugs finally started to wear off at that point and I felt like the filament inside a light bulb after it burns out, I was like the human equivalent of a crispy piece of bacon. When I get all high like that I just feel every emotion like it was shouted at me through a loudspeaker, the music stabs at my ears and all the landscapes look as if they were run through an Instagram filter. Me and the other three genuinely okay dudes walked along a path and over a bridge to some rocky place with caves and coconut crabs and sand and sand going on. The waves came up real close and real strong and if you stepped out too near you'd be swept out and we'd have to call the coast guard, but they would probably only find you some days later washed up on another rocky shore; I didn't know how to swim. Danger makes the edges of everything stand out sharper; maybe at the moment I wasn't in trouble- except for the drugs which were always trouble- but all that mattered was that I felt as if I was, it made everything stick out so much more and the air clung nicely to walls inside my lungs. We sat there and stared for some time, and in that moment vulnerability crept upon me that way that it sometimes does when you place yourself in front of things that are so beautiful as to jar you out of the cycle of everyday, the inertia that keeps us going at the same dogged pace. It felt as if my abdomen had been slashed open and everything inside of me poured out onto that sandy beach, but the folks I was there with I did not know so well, and so I picked all of myself and arranged it neatly into a pile and sat next to it so that others might stumble over it as they walked by. It was one of those moments I am so prone to finding myself in, where I am so intensely alone despite the people who are standing there with me in the physical realm~ you are vibrating at your own frequency, you find yourself unable to touch others, unable to be moved from your spot on the shore~ always I return to this. In moments like that one there is nothing to be desired as much as to be understood by another human being, and very often I find myself thoughtful but without any meaningful company. I guess that's why I love the drugs so much: it makes every thought hang heavy in my skull, every word drip with levity, every moment means everything. The drugs make the act of existing into a piece of art, and as pretentious as it makes me sound that's all I ever searched for: the moment, the piece, the person that made me feel the way I was taught we were supposed to feel as we hung out and burned our time down on this stupid rock, like everything fit perfectly into the space it was put into and it all mattered. It is at times like this that my thoughts drift back to you, not because- as I like to think when my head is in the clouds- you know completely the content of the soul that I profess to own, but because you are my best friend, and a nice place to store all of my emotions. Now, as I'm coming down the next day, I find myself without the time or indeed the energy to write everything down the way that I would. I can no longer aspire to the perfection which in yesterday's mania seemed to be right there, within my reach. Now as I find myself back on the ground I have to deal with the world the way that it is: as a seemingly meaningless and chaotic struggle. I have to see myself for what I really am: a self perpetuating chemical reaction, that tends towards pretentiousness and romanticism, and wants desperately to do nothing but spread his seed and call it love. It can be jarring, to fall so far, but I think that I will survive. I still get to find my own meaning, to struggle each day to ascribe my own meaning to the mess. I still get to love and to search for love, and to search my moments of perfection, and to hopefully not hang on too tight when I find them. I guess there isn't a point to it all, but I can at least put a point to the things that have happened: the beauty still exists out there, and it will be worth it when we find it, and it will still be worth it when we lose it, and I guess that the faster we allow ourselves to let go of it the better off we will be in the search for the smile at the end of the tunnel.
