2 months, I haven't updated my life; not even in an actual journal. Does that mean my passion for writing has faded? No. I've just been living, what I thought was life.

I clearly remember saying, "this isn't just a lifestyle anymore, it's a passion". Now, why the fuck was I so proud? Sure, the music is a passion...but, that's all that should have been. It still excites me. The kick of the bass gives me a thrill, making my heart skip a beat. When I see someone with an armful of colorful beads, I feel as if I've seen a long lost relative; I'm overjoyed. So, what's wrong? With dancing the night away, and shuffling with your friends. What's wrong with, giving a few light shows, and receiving hugs for them? Just a few blunts, some MDMA, and a bit of LSD...right?

I find myself seeing my friends harming themselves, and me contributing to it. Seeing my best friend, go on the worst "trip" of her life...in reality, scared me. I remember, laughing, and laughing, but that was the Purple Dolphin playing its part.

I remember, I was in a Honda going Fifteen minutes out into the desert; 1000 Palms Cali. On the way there, the introduction to this life, this addiction, was recited to me. "After this night, you'll never see life the same again; everything will be in a whole different, perspective. Forget spending your weekends at the movies, and forget having time for a relationship who isn't in this with you; that'll never exist again. Forget all of the depression, and forget all of the fights, you're living the PLUR life now. And forget all of the blunts, and the different types of buds, it's called MDMA". It's true, you're never the same again; I'm toxic.

This, "passion", isn't passion at all. It's kind of like, love compared to lust. That's exactly what it is. But, even when people are in lust, they sink, and enjoy it...right?


When someone that's worth it comes into your life, you just...know. No explanations, no if's, and's, or but's; you just know. And when that someone can see the lust in your eyes, for such a life, of course they're going to leave; I'm an idiot.

There's always that someone. Whether they've been in your life for Five years, Five months, Five weeks, or Five minutes, it doesn't matter. In the end, they're still that someone. Only that someone, can keep you waiting. Only they can say, fuck the lust, I finally want...love.

I was once made up of coffee shops, flannels, messy updo's, journals, and indie music; I thought I'd never change. In the snap of a finger, my arms were filled with colorful beads, my weekends were sleepless, I danced and danced, dressed up in costumes with few material, and loved the fuzzy lights MDMA made me see; not to mention, every song on shuffle, had the sound of a bass.

What happens now? Now that, that someone, opened my eyes without even trying? What happens now? Now that, for the First time in Six months someone said no, you're not what you should have been?

I'll tell you what happens...