Running the Labyrinth

A Journal entry

So at this point, I’ve traded the original bucket I was driving since it was stolen. The fucking dirtbag is watching me write my thoughts down, (a normal ritual of mine since there isn’t much else to do riding passenger with this retard), and he leans over and kisses me on the forehead. What he said afterward is beside the point, it was his stupid ass fucking way of admitting guilt I’d yet to even start to crucify him for. It made me angry to the point of no avail. Well, there was car-vail.
So yeah, the scene changes and you bet your ass I’m smashing on the outskirts of Lodi straight not giving a fuck in this stupid motherfucker’s bucket piece of shit Honda. Anyway, I end up breaking the ignition at a local cemetery and ultimately decide to just get rid of the piece of shit to some other shmuck who thinks he’s gone unnoticed and is slick as a fucking baboso, as some would say. So retard #1 caused his own predicament whilst I was trying to mind my own business writing in my little stupid science/word-vomit journal. Whoops. And retard #2 is on my list of favorite people of all time so I make a deal with him, stolen car for non stolen car, unbeknownst to him, of course. To him, I’m some stupid girl who lost the last of her marbles trading a 2006 for a 1997, it doesn’t even matter the model or make, this idiot doesn’t see anything wrong with that whole “deal” and we strike up a fucking old school trade-across. The clunker drove around successfully for 2 days and it broke down near the fucking park where the old skating rink used to be. I get out of the car, since I live in the damn thing, I’ve been sitting in it all day, and start to walk the park. It’s been about 6 months that the butterflies seem to come out of nowhere. This day at the park, the monarchs are big and beautiful, and they fly right in front of my face, sometimes it seems like they aren’t even real. What’s really real, nowadays? Better yet, who’s really real?
The blades of grass seem like they have a special coating around them, that makes the blades look like they are impenetrable by the sprinkler’s water drops. There always seems to be this Twilight Zone time, that has been happening. No one to tell about this shit, I can’t even accurately recall any of it, but no, seriously.
Nothing could keep any of us apart anyway. But this shit is starting to get weird. I hate Einstein for remarking anything about any action at any such distance. I especially hate having caught wind of any scientific quantum event at all 2 odd years ago, watching quantum jump videos with my best friend, Sponge-bob. I guess he’s the only true person to have stood by to witness my weirdness with this fucked up shit a long time ago. Suddenly, it’s all starting to make sense. The more alienated that I start to feel around any people at all, the more I realize something is communicating with me on an intrinsic level. It’s latched on to any and all possible events in my life in a way that has made me think that either I’m getting punked on the longest punked episode to ever hit the TV and Ashton Kutcher is bound to come out of the wood-works soon, or something really fucking creepy is at play here. I know what they think, they think I want something so bad and blah blah blah. Is that what you think? And I’m not censoring shit. Is that what you want to hear? Well, damn.
You’re pretty much super smoking fucking hot, so? So what, a girl can’t dream? I don’t want it as bad as you paint it out to be, (I very well might have at some point, I don’t need to explain myself to my own personal blog, read on at your own expense. :>). However, at the first notion of anything denoting the opposite reaction made me feel the same out of self-esteem survival 101. Duh. That’s cute huh. Hella gay. Don’t think I don’t know you invented the next level of baby stalking. I’m the original baby stalker, I would know. All respects to a real OG, doe. I see you baby !
The dragonflies are following me now though. Plus I can hear absolutely too much, and it is getting louder. What in the actual fuck. Suddenly, I don’t know how long I have been walking around the park, but I keep zoning out, remembering my car is parked at the same spot, thinking, how long have I been walking to my car- I search around frantically trying to figure out what I was doing in the first place? Was I walking to my car? Was I walking from my car? I can hear the cars as they go by, some are saying “She’s like, a prophet.” and I can hear some people saying “Listen to what she’s talking about!” Whose a motherfucking prophet? Can a bitch make a prophet first? But then I realized they are talking about me. Laughter pierces my ears like a flailing siren, it’s the loudest most obnoxious laugh, it breaks my stare at the seemingly endless stream of cars. Was I fucking spieling again? FUCK. For christs sake, and what the fuck about? Then it hits me, I must look as confused as I feel. Just what in the fuck was I just fucking doing? I think, and I think, and I can see the cars, they are all just coming, they seem to all be going the exact same speed. Were they listening to me? I must have got off blinking too much again. They got me. To avoid looking stupid, I start towards my car, behind me. So I was walking away from the car, what th- and that’s when I realized ,I don’t know, 300 or odd dragonflies hovering overhead. They were golden and red, some of them buzzing right by my head. Again, I was lost somewhere, and I seemed to come to , again, confused. The cars, still coming by in a lolling droll, ceaseless, endless. This shit really is starting to creep me out. I feel like some superintelligent divine being is sending me signals. Could that be? The dragon flies are still following me, buzzing above me as I ride the bike through town, following me everywhere in the city. Every corner I turn, dragonflies guarding my every move. What could that be about? I don’t even know how long I was at that fucking miserable park. It seemed like an eternity. I learned an ultimate lesson though. Trust. Those days, (its a little eerie to admit but I have no idea how long I was there) it seemed I just kept re-appearing in different areas of the park, mostly facing the main street. Everytime I kept thinking, “Why am I just standing here?” Based on what I could hear it was me, I was fucking spieling again.

Please, make this stop, lord.

In my familiar own voice, I respond to myself,

stop what? That uncertainty? You don’t trust me.

What? Hello?

Nothing. I start to examine anything I can remember from the last couple of hours. I’m wearing the same dress, I’ve lost my car keys, I hear these cars, I can hear what they are saying, they were listening to me. What could I possibly have been standing here doing? In several different parts of the park? Fuck, this must be the culmination of my existence.. No wonder everyone is saying I’m crazy. What have I said?

No, stop that now. I wouldn’t be shouting obscenities.

Of course not. In fact, no way. I am cohesive and I do not doubt anything I believe in, confused or not.

Then does it matter what you were spieling on then, child?

Wait, hello?

That was my voice, no doubt. That was me? Answering me?

I sit back with this pack of zig-zags and this

Gnats, they’re everywhere I look too.

What is this?

I am, whatever you say I am, if I wasn’t, then why would I say I am?

Huh? Hello?

Fuck. I’m reeling. Is this real? I don’t know the difference when I can cut through the space-time fabric with my eyes and my ears. Has it always been this way? The energy? Is it because I noticed, the way we take in conscious moments? The way we imprint them into our conscious memories, one world splitting, scene splitting, butterfly flap of the wings movement at a time? A long time effect on time perception, and object fluency as it moves about in the conjoined perception of the space-time fluctuation that is the continuum? The buzzing sound, god damnit. Make it stop.