To Jessica
jessica.
memories of you faded. i barely remember who you are. but tonight i need someone to write to.
to talk to. and though i cant remember your face. your voice. somewhere i know. you may be
able to understand. to guide me out of this place ive found myself.
so hard to describe. today i found myself lost. lost to a reason to live. to continue on.
against the world. today i doubt my sanity. whether the world ive built up around me has any
real basis. whether there was ever a reason to do good. to fight evil. greed. to live an
honourable life. and help people. not walk all over them. or just be an asshole to them for
the fun of it. today i thought that maybe i was wrong and all the other people in the world
were right.
looking around. societies seem so fake. so superficial. everything becoming an act. most
unconscious. looking at the gay subculture. at the oz. and the clover grill. so hard to explain.
but all this miss this and miss that. and oh boy you are cute. so many wanting to go and just
suck each others dicks. or do drugs and drop into some non-living haze.
or further down bourbon. all of it. to slip into a drunken haze. sleep with some random woman.
idle chit-chat. none of them understand. or maybe i dont understand. thats what ive been
thinking lately.
in truth. all this. even this letter. dramatic bullshit. im not just talking about jocs and
fags and fucking suits who live to suck all your fucking money up. its hippies and goths and
ravers. all of them. i dont understand any of them. they live in this haze. thinking that they are
living. going to the extremes. whatever. but none of them are. i just saw some industrial punk
looking guy in a club wearing a shirt written 'self-destruction'. nine inch nails shirt. what the
fuck does he know about self-destruction. little preppie alternative.
i dont know. maybe its bourbon street. where everyone dresses in masks. after all this is
new orleans. but i want to know where the real people are. who they are. how they live. i want
to go to the extremes. with them. as a part. not alone. and tonight. in the rain. the haze. no one
seems real. or if they are. they want to hide it. somewhere behind some mask. not coming out.
i cant write this letter. i need hours. of talking. this is one small part of it. im fed up with the
cops. the legal system. society in general. in so many aspects. im searching for something else.
a way out. a new way to live. i was just hoping you could help. point me along a direction.
im also sick of the alternatives though too. i dont want to become 'enlightened'. all that yoga
shit. another drug. i use drugs to escape. yes. but i realise theyre an escape. and i need to come
back. i need a reality. i dont want some permanent escape. i dont know. i really dont know
anything anymore. once again im lost.