so i thought i was sal paradise that summer and i was looking for a dean moriarty. problem was, they never existed in the first place, so i guess i was just filling a void. other problem was, i found a dean moriarty. he had those little pieces of white and orange (sometimes blue, sometimes flesh), colors of the devil's own rainbow.
a summer later, a new novel, and a new friend: i wasn't looking for anyone in particular but i guess a japhy ryder happened into my life. we tripped, got high, got ludicrously drunk. dropped acid in december, the first snowfall. smoked salvia divinorum and flew around the world inside of my head. skyscrapers and all. then we broke on each other and flew apart, as if discovering all that time we'd been lodestones of the same polarity. as if all that time we'd held to one another, vibrating furiously.
winter was always the breaking point. the late gray of january and the mess of february. by march and my birthday, everything: different, in a violent way.
i take myself way too seriously.
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