Livin’ the DreamPosted: July 24, 2016
Chuck’s busted, bellicose banjo sat in the corner, the same spot he’d abandoned it before he left. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. If I’ll ever hear him croon some weird angry bluegrass song while sitting on my couch when we’re both high as shit. I doubt it. I heard he’s a tax attorney now.
It feels like I’ve been left behind a bajillion times. My friends are all broken, but none broken as badly as I am. They all find some way to heal and move on, or at least pretend to heal before they move on. Me, I’m just stuck in the same bad trip I call my life.
Sometimes I think I’m better off, though. They all change, they make sacrifices for society, taking white collar jobs or going back to school or making up with their parents who kicked them out when they found out who they really were.
I stay the same, through and through. I have what I need, and when I run out, it’s only a phone call away. People come and go, man, but who you are inside stays the same. Just have fun until you die, and screw everybody who ditches you along the way.