My Dear Country

It's funny, how your childhood dreams differ from the ones you have right now. 


I've said it before: This is not a place for me. And really, it's evidently so as each day passes. I picture myself driving through the freedom highways of California, where i'm cruising in my Maserati, going over 100mph, the wind blowing against my face, tearing the facades of the day. Driving, while the coastline twinkle with the reflection of the stars high above. Me, in my Armani suit, with some broad seated on my right, dreaming of how the next party is going to be like, bearing no thought that she's like the many I've shared a drive with; Desperate, needy, clueless, material.


Driving back to my mansion in Beverly Hills, overlooking the ocean. The pristine beaches of the day turn into wallowing, sneezing bastards. In my backyard, the Hollywood sign is clear for all to see. 


I sit in my chair, thinking, of how deep this city is. The history, the richness of it's ability to destroy lives and careers. Yet, ambitious people try to make it here, try as they might. And I sit there, thinking of it's filth and disaster and depression that has attracted me to this place. The freedom it holds here is incomparable. After all, I have all the money in the world. Personal happiness can always come later. Right now, I got my own million-dollar loft, 3 super cars in my garage, each for a different occasion to boast my superiority and status, a blonde who turns into a brunette, or a redhead, after every few nights, my own designer brand. And I sit there, thinking, this ain't that bad after all. Boo-fuckin'-hoo to those who complain about the invasion of privacy from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Every peasant wants a piece of the rich, the middle class fuel this desire for more "invading' stories. 


I sit in my chair, sipping on some vintage Scotch, while she teases me with her lingerie. And I just smile, thinking, how did I reach these dreams I created? I was supposed to be a doctor.


&I sit in my chair, and smile. Cause I've made it. I'm livin' the dream. I, am blessed. Personal happiness? It's all the same thing.

A Possibly Lethal Concoction Of Reality

I miss nights like these. Mellow music in the background, while I feel calm. The timing of the day would naturally bring me to a sleepy state, and while I'm forcing myself to stay awake, it gives me this high. 


Have you ever tried staying awake after drugging yourself with drowsy-causing medicine? It's almost the same feeling; The high I get from this is nearly the same as the medicinal effects of say, Paracetamol mixed with cough syrup and that tiny yellow flu tab. 


It's a culmination of all these factors combined, the high. And, I miss feeling like this. I've not felt it in such a long time, months, maybe as long as a year.




I sit back at times, usually when I'm taking a solo puff, and often wonder to myself, if this was the kind of life I thought I would have a few years back. Certainly, I knew as much back then as I do know now that this is certainly not the way I wanna live my life in a few years time. Yet, I wonder if this is the path I've been leading myself onto, and ultimately, living the life I never wanted.


I just can't see past this fog, and I've not been able to for a good few years now. Everything's so cloudy and gray, and I've been on this road for so many years now. Feels like it's becoming a habit, becoming second nature of sorts for me to not experience the life I have always wanted for myself. And that is what I am afraid of, it becoming "normal" to feel this fucked up.


Let's face it, this really has become a rut I've placed myself in. All my goals, all my aspirations, now it all just seems like meaningless words written for the sake of occupying the spaces on a paper. I have to stop kidding myself and telling myself that things will turn out good with time, cause I've been saying that for years now. Look where it's brought me to! That's right, nowhere. 


I'm running out of time. I'm no longer that young guy who had all the time in the world but who wasted it; I'm now the guy who doesn't have much time and who needs to savour and utilise every second I have. I'm not dying, although at times I really do wonder how that feels like. I'm just running out of time to save myself. To save me, before it's too late.


"Blue sky's turning gray, like my love.
How can you love someone, and not yourself?"


- Alter Bridge

My silhouette