Watching a tropical storm smashing and bashing around over the ocean in front of me. There’s loud music in my ears, through headphones that are big and comfortable, and I can’t hear a thing but the sounds I love. The storm outside is beautiful though. The rain is heavy and percussive in itself, and flashes of lightning make me look up often enough from my writing to break my train of thought for a couple of smiling seconds. I’ve been thinking about writing for most of the day, and the moodiness of the weather has seemed to spur me on into a creative whirlpool, of which I can’t know whether ill survive.
My mind has been just as cyclonic as the world outside my head of recent times, and even tonight.. More cyclonic, even. – Not that id know of it too well now, because I only have the lightning to remind me that anything is happening outside, the sheets of rain lost in the darkness, and any sounds drowned out by the music in my ears, and the thoughts in my head. It puts me in some weird state to write. I feel the shudder of thunder every so often, rumbling through the earth and into my feet.
I think a lot. I analyse every single thing that happens and almost every single person I meet. Sometimes I don’t bother (why would you, always?) but most of the time I do. And then I think I’m going crazy, and I start to analyse myself. It’s a confusing circle, or whatever shape it is. I wonder what’s doing it to me, then I wonder if it’s even happening, then I wonder if it even matters as I simultaneously wonder if I really do care.
Huge parts of me know that I don’t. – I’m easily content in the fact that I’m just doing what I want, and if something happens to me in the process of this ultimate feast in self-satisfaction, then so be it, It’s the price you pay.
But there must be something bigger than this? Is that what makes me continue? Is it my dilemma? I eat the world outside, and the cannibal within myself eats me. This writhing beast coming out of me in front of everyone in the world, charismatic and undeniable that makes me think I’m cloaked in so many colours. Who the fuck am I? How many people just thought the same thing? And fuck… I think I’m going crazy again, just as a I realise that the same circle I was talking about earlier is the only path I can follow. So what of these thoughts anyway. Pretty certain that I just admitted that I was going around in circles. There’s a storm outside…
These are all just letters to my psychiatrist anyway.
So what is it that I’m actually writing here? I don’t understand. I suppose it comes from a certain type of thought that captures a certain type of sense in your mind. The rain outside, the lightning – it’s all heavy – and then something pops into your head that makes you trip a little. The THC will do that to you. And off you go, into your mind.
I always wondered why people used the expression ‘out of your mind’ ’ especially when referring to themselves being mind alteringly high. And then I discovered it, and I realised that our minds all just want to go somewhere, I realised that our minds needed to go somewhere. To expand. We need it. We exist for it. In this great life that we have, any experience is there for you to embrace, if you’ll just open your arms and open your mind
And off I went.
Right now, I don’t know where I’m going.
But ill never be afraid.
And I sit back to watch the storm outside.