No, my love...it's not that kind.
This is an epiphany. It will hit you the only way epiphany's know how.
Hard.
At once.
And it will linger, hover. Like that annoying mosquito you thought you swatted but creeps into your ear as you sleep.
Did you blink? Because that white silence piercing your ear drum is now a massive shit storm.
Raining fecal matter,
On your perception of yourself.
Oh you know, just all your hopes and life's dreams...covered in shit. Glittery, bedazzled shit. You can spray paint it all you want but it's not gonna glow. You know that. I know that.
My love, You. Have. Fucked. Up.
You. Are. Fucked.
"A little louder for the guys in the back, please?"
...
But you're not a total fuck up, so don't knot that noose just yet.
Shh, put the rat poison down.
No buts, step off that ledge my friend.
"You have brains in your head,
You have feet in your shoes,
You can steer yourself,
Any direction you choose." - said the mystical magical wizard and Shaman, Dr. Seuss.
So steer yourself to the bar,
Or to the bong,
Pop that pill,
Sink that acid,
Whatever your poison, (NO RAT POISON)
And drink this colossal fumble away 'til you make a bed of the filthy floor.
Inhale until you lose sight of this pitiful blunder.
Then wake the fuck up,
And try again.
Or you know,
Fuck it.
Move on.
