Drake Warned Me About You

Anyone wanna f

how i imagine mark on his hiatus

college is bad folks

when u hear your favorite band in public

my main man scoobert goes in

In highschool I wrote a story about a middle-generation of stellar travelers. Their parents were born on earth and left as children, and the middle generation will not live long enough to see their destination. They live their entire lives on the ship and I wrote about them trying to find their place in everything. They will never know blue skies and warm beaches and open fields with warm breezes. They’ll never know birdsong or crickets or frogs. They’ll never hear the rain on the roof of a dreary day. I never could find the right way to end the story. I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I didn’t know how to do it.

I realize now that it was a book about me dealing with depression before I even knew it. Looking back at how blatant the projecting was, it’s obvious now. It wasn’t then.

In the story, the middle-generation people are lost. They’re apathetic. They’re just a placeholder. The only job they have is to keep the ship running, have kids, and die. As the middle generation of people began becoming adults, suicide rates were skyrocketing. Crime and drug rates were jumping. This generation was completely apathetic because they felt that they had no use.

In the story, a small group of people in the middle-generation create the Weather Project. They turn the ship into a terrarium. They make magnificent gardens and take the DNA of animals they took with them and recreate them and they make this cold, metal spaceship that they have to live their entire lives on into a home. They take what little they have and they break it and rearrange it into something beautiful. They take this radical idea and turn the ship into a wonderful jungle of trees and birds and sunshine.

And I realize now how much it reflects my state of mind as I transitioned from a child into an adult while dealing with depression. You always hear “it gets better” and “when you’re older things will be easier” and I was so sick of waiting for it to get better. I was in the middle-generation stage. And I was sick of it. I was so sick of waiting.

When I was in highschool I didn’t know how to end the story. I didn’t know how to have a happy ending. I didn’t have the life experience then to finish the story in a meaningful way. I didn’t know how to make it better for these middle-generation characters.

But now that I’m older, I’m learning. That if you sit and wait for things to get better, it never will. You have to take your life and break it apart and rearrange it into something beautiful. You have to make the cold metal ship into the garden that you deserve. You have to make your own meaning. You have to plant your own garden.

You have to teach yourself that being happy is not a radical idea.

ugly men are like, girls just want sexy confident chads who treat them like shit, when instead they should be with a stinky virgin with no social confidence like me who will also treat you like shit

this one time I ran a red light on mistake and I didn’t notice it was red until it was too late so I just ran the light screeching like an angry pterodactyl the entire time

a cop was at the intersection so he pulled me over and when he came up to my window he was wheezing cause he was laughing so hard and he said

“ok so i know you ran a red light and that’s really bad and you should never do it again but i’m not gonna give you a ticket cause that was the funniest thing i’ve ever seen and my partner can’t get out of the car cause he’s laughing so hard he’s about to pee himself”

i forgot that i’d had my window open when i ran the red light and the cop told me that all he heard from my car was this really high-pitched “screeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

and that’s how i got out of getting a ticket for running a red light

My dog Chica had a nightmare last night. She doesn’t have them very often but when she does she’ll let out this adorable little howl that startles herself awake. She was a little shaken up about it but after a few snuggles in the hooman bed (usually off limits for doggos) she was happy as can be. After a while she hopped down to her own bed and drifted off into a peaceful pupper snooze. And I thought that was the end of it.

But I had a nightmare too. Now that’s not entirely uncommon, I have them fairly often and they’re something that I’ve gotten used to. But this one was a bad one.

The bad ones are the ones that I don’t wake up from. They’re the ones where my friends or loved ones are hurt in front of me and the only thing I can do is watch and cry and scream in the mad hope that it’s all just some terrible dream. Nothing ever happens to me in these dreams so I’m trapped within until I wake up of my own accord. But tonight was different.

Tonight, I felt something lick my hand and woke up in a cold sweat. There on the side of my bed was Chica, licking my hand and looking up at me with concern. Now I’m not sure how much a dog understands about nightmares and dreams and such, but she’s never woken me up from a nightmare before. I’d like to think that some part of her recognized what I was going through and she just wanted to wake me up to protect me from the scary monsters. I have never been more grateful to have Chica by my side than in that moment.

So I let her hop up on the hooman bed (twice in one night, oh boy!) and after a few snuggles I was happy as can be.