It’s so sad

My throat hurts and I want to smoke still 

So sad but a necessity none the less 

I wonder if I’ll end up dead in a ditch just from cigarettes

Life’s turning up with it’s new cigarette smoking restrictions... maybe I’m not as suicidal as I was a week ago, because usually I smoke a cigarette as soon as I wake up but today I haven’t done it and I’ve even typed things. That’s good. But not as great since I’m already awake at 9am. I hope this throat irritation goes away and I just want to smoke in peace and get more peace from it. I really am saying fuck the world while I light up this cigarette by first fucking over my poor lungs and my poor throat and all the organs disturbed by my smoking cigarette habit.

The burn is so delicious in the first two puffs, after that it’s all downhill unless you do something cool or get an image boost, then you can mask the pain with a feeling of feeling cool.

At this point I am feeling relief from blogging so this is going great. But it’ll plateau out back into nice normal sanity.

Just had a big smoke belch. Not sure if it’s supposed to boast my ego that I took nice hits, or my body caving from the hunger. I feel nice today. I wish everyone in the world could feel the glow im feeling. It’s got hope and power and acceptance all in one package. Ugh a sneeze just took away my focus.

‘What does it all meean?’ I remember being in my UMSL College days and I would walk around aimlessly and hopelessly from class to class rounding up a B grade average. Still confused when I became overqualified. 

It's just so confusing as to what I'm meant to be doing 24/7. There's cigarettes. And then there's family. There's lungs and there's pleasure. I have so many choice choices to pick from. (Choice as an adjective I got from the movie Lilo and Stitch). I need more energy. I need more cigarette smoke. I need to live more. I need to breathe more. More more more. It's alwaays more. Wanting more. It never ends. It won't end. Human nature. It's why I have decided to not love again. It's why I don't think my story is sharable with new faces. It's why I am not concerned if more know about my story. Or maybe I am. Because I do spread a lot of words about it to every person I meet. As soon as I meet.
The high of meeting people, even the same people, is pretty intoxicating. It's so intoxicating you start to develop a new found tolerance level and start to consume more in search of a higher high, now supported by your local humans. I wonder how such a stationary emotional high could simply just exist while being in company of other people. I hadn't felt this feeling till about a month ago (rounding up). Which is fascinating really. Verbal diarrhea really. But no it's fascinating because it's brand new. I will probably have to get used to using that safe non toxic high gotten from company of human beings rather than being on my own in my own room, and consuming mad amounts of smoke to push through the barrier of absolutely nothing. Nothing but a blind idea. Without thought. Without provocation.

Everyone develops themselves over time. I develop myself every hour. My mind is always so vacant. I can be filled with new information at all times. I doubt I'd accept just any kind of information, but given the right kind I would indeed accept it. I am ready to accept it. Waiting to accept it. I wonder if that's why I'm perceived as such a hot persona... Because I am vacant in the brains. So since it's harder for me to pay attention to people, it is also seen as more valuable when I do finally pay attention to people. But the truth is, I am constantly paying attention to people. I just don't have a long enough attention span to hold on through the conversation or let a person speak their whole speak without interrupting them because I cannot retain all that information. I was kinged too early. I was knighted among the round table too soon. I was brought up from the depths of man to greatness too soon. Too fucking soon. Too soon. I am an unfinished person now. I am a whole child now. I regret nothing now.
It's great being a grown child at the age of 15, maybe go out as a school shooter or something worthy (JOKING HERE... like my tinychat pals joke), or maybe become a pizza delivery shooter guy. I don't know, it's your life and you only get one I hear go big. And then go home. But being a grown child at the age of 31/32 is downright embarassing. Embarassing in the worst of ways. I cannot even imagine myself dating or being around with a woman. If I were around one, I'd just make the most childish of jokes, and she'd have to act like my keeper or something. And nobody wants to handle all of another human's shit. That's just disgusting no matter how good looking you are. Maybe I am wrong and other beautiful people hold a different view and are able to deal with other people's shit. But I am not. I am destined to be a happy alone person. I mean only when people really question you being sexually okay is when I get bothered. Other than that... I am a content single man. Single by choice. Single by fault.
This blog is such a high.
But so is being with family.
Really I am just sucking out the happiness from being within my own circumstances, and putting them into text. And somehow making them into written text makes it realer for me. Otherwise, I feel it's all up in the air and all fragmented ideas, but to write down thoughts makes them a bit more concrete and just helps easen the anxiety of overwhelming ideas and confusion they cause.