Hey man, I love you but no fucking way.

September 29, 2014 § Leave a comment


“I’m sure that we could find something for you to do on stage. Maybe shake a tamberine or when I sing you sing harmonies” – The Front Bottoms – Twin Size Mattress. 

So I’m back to writing. That’s got to be a good sign right? That’s got to mean something. There’s got to be something in that that I can take away. Something that I can use to push myself forwards. Onwards, upwards and out. Far away from this stale and confusing rut that clouds my mind and slows everything into monotony. I’ve learnt to trust my instincts but not my hope. My instincts will save me, I have made the mental note to never let anyone cloud or confuse them, never to let anyone stand in their way. My hope on the other hand is folly. So shot full of holes that it’s just ribbons now. It’s all twisted metal and flaked paint. No good can come from my hope. That is what I’ve learned. At least, in the moment, it’s like borrowing happiness. The more I take the more I have to give back when whatever it is I have decided a worthy punt on my hope falls flat and leaves me 100 steps behind where I didn’t want to be in the first place. Hope is for fools and the beaten and down trodden and me. Fuck it, how can I hide any more? Hope’s a bitch. But we need it. I need it. Despite my pissing and moaning and whining like a bitch. I need hope, even though I keep putting it in the wrong places. Fuck it, there’s goes my momentum.

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