October 25, 2012
I was working, still am, and Ayla came to visit me. Sharly wasn’t in so Ayla dragged me into the men’s room to give me a blow job. I really, really, really needed that. That’s her favorite thing in the world to do, I think. I’m ok with that. She also did cocaine with me, and left some with me. I didn’t want to do cocaine at work, but you know, if it’s offered, it’s hard to say no. Kind of like blow jobs.
Dave came in with his broken arm and looking messed up. Messed up on drugs, not because the shit was beat out of him. Damn these people. How am I ever supposed to make it in life with these kinds of friends. Bringing me drugs, bringing the drug world to me, enticing me to do inappropriate things at work and make bad choices. This is why I am a loser. Sometimes. Sometimes I’m ok, when I can make good choices. I think, though, it’s been a long time since I’ve made a good choice. Maybe trying to save that possum was a good choice. I like to do things like that when I can. Then I realize there’s a purpose for me. Maybe I can go to veterinary school. Nah, I’d probably steal all the drugs, especially the kedamine.
Ok, I’ll do something good right now. I’m going to be insightful and smart, so don’t put the journal down. Yeah, I’m addressing you, imaginary journal reading person. If I die before this journal is burned in a camp fire, you need to know I’m worth something, and that there is more to me than all the mistakes I make. Here it is,
WALL GRIMM’S INSIGHT:
When I was a little kid, I loved the ocean. My parents would take me to the beach and I wasn’t like the other kids. I didn’t jump around and splash and beg to go deeper. Well maybe I did sometimes. But mostly I liked to stand right at the shoreline and watch the waves, and look way out into the vastness. The concept that I was not able to see the end to something blew my mind. I used to try real hard to see something, but there was nothing out there, no end. I liked to feel the tide hit my ankles, coming and going, and my feet getting more and more buried into the sand. I loved the smell of the ocean. And I thought the sound of the waves were like a whole bunch of sounds combined to make one sound, and it surrounded me. I felt the sound of the waves crashing. There’s nothing more peaceful than the ocean. I also liked to sit in the sand, not to build sandcastles, but to run the sand through my fingers. Sometimes I’d look at individual grains of sand and wondered where they came from, or what they came from. Were they from Europe? Somehow did they come from India? Were they once a part of a shell or maybe a mountain? Maybe Mount Everest. I had no idea the science behind it. I still don’t. But I knew that the ocean didn’t separate people, like we tend to think, from continent to continent. Rather, I knew it connected us, all of us. And I always wondered while I was looking out trying to see the end of the ocean, if there was another child on another beach wondering the same thing, while facing me.
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