The inner Monologue

So on Childish Gambino's album Camp, at the end he has a monologue. This is it above the words I am typing. It is so simple but it packs a punch. I've damn near memorized the thing and it just hit home for me. There are certain lines that just touch me in the heart like " Back in the real world we don't go to the same school, and unless one of our parents move to a dramatically different we won't go to the same high school, so this is kinda it for us, unless I say something and might exspecially be it for us if I do say something" and "I told you something and it was just for you, and you told everyone". AHHHH just gohshnfehng..... The ending line kills me. "I wish this is a story how I got on the bus a boy got off a man more cynical, harden and mature. But thats not true. I got on the bus a boy, and I never got off the bus. I still haven't". I don't really cry but man this gets to me.

         So like any artist I got super inspired and I started writing my own inner monologues, they are kinda directed at different people but  when I say them outloud I'm always talking to the same person. Here are some:

lately i’ve been trying to stay off your blog. not like i’m avoiding you or anything, i just want to think about you less. you know what the kicker of all this is? your not going to read this and i know were suppose to be all in each others heads and stuff, but… i’m trying to escape from mine. i saw you in the hall at school today in between 3rd and 4th lunch. you’ve been having an unusual amount of pep in your step and your hair bounces when you walk. i smell like sweat and cafeteria chocolate milk.. so i wasn’t about to run up to you and say “hey”…. the really annoying part is , i just saw you an hour ago and i just wanted to grab your hand, run out of school, go to jerusalem and sit by the crappy stream. you know the stream where everyone flicks there cigarette butts into and it smells like death by pollution. i’d sit there and read you love poems, which is mighty fucked up because i don’t believe in love, but i’d definitely read you these love poems. my grandma gave me my granddads old camera, its pretty nice. i like it, i think its better than buying one of those overly priced cannon like every d person on tumblr, just so they can take pictures of themselves and pieces of paper. their “photographers” and i get it everyone wants to be an artist, because it makes you feel good. soooo more power to them. but anyways i want to take the camera and take snapshots of you a three minutes when you aren’t looking. or maybe everyday. and by christmas i would have a photo album of candid shots to give you… . . but thats sorta creepy. i think your stretch marks are beautiful. no no, this isn’t like the foot fetish thing, they just remind me that you are human sometimes. i say sometimes because your more like an ecstasy… (haha) sorta like my high that won’t fade… i don’t think i’m in love with you, well i don’t think i’ll ever be in love with you, maybe for the fact that we live in a world where people get crushed by a 4 letter word like that and cause huge emotional , psychological damage and all most people say is “fuck em” or “there is more fish in the sea”. sounds like bullshit. i don’t know i feel like i’m just rambling now, and i don’t even know if i’m going to wake up tomorrow , so i don’t know why i’m doing so much life contemplating. i think its because the sad thing is, i know i have a 90% chance that i am and i’m not being reborn when i wake up, i continue doing the same pattern i’ve been doing. and maybe thats just what life is … a pattern. or maybe this is all a dream. well it sounds way more philosophical if is, so lets call life a dream. and one day i will wake up and start living.

Another

When I was younger, my favorite thing use to be to read my Calvin and Hobbes (fuck you spell check thats how you spell Hobbes) comic books. I had them all and I use to read them over and over and over.I could never decide what my favorite schtick was between calvin’s snarky ass comments to his mother about the dinner or his duplicator machine or how he hated girls even though he secretly loved Susie. I envied his vivid imgination, his innate ability to create. Then they stopped making them, and I got mad depressed. I felt like I lost a friend almost.


I got older and I started to get that feeling with other things like television shows. I would watch old series like Scrubs, Dragon Ball Z, X-Men Evolution, Good Times, Boondocks (even though there making another season !!!!!!). Well once the Series finale came along and the show ended I got so sad again, like I was missing a piece of me. So I learned to stop investing myself in things, and just have surface level emotions. and It works.


Ever since I joined Shattered Thought, I’ve gotten better with dealing with them, starting investing myself and emotions in poems, starting t become a piece of me. I don’t know why I’m writing this, it just every time I get some type of unwanted emotions, I think of that feeling of reading the last strip in the final book of Calvin and Hobbes. Brandon says the things you enjoy doing shouldn’t make you sad or mad. I wish I had something more philosophical or inspirational to say. . . but I just don’t know….

and another

Music is getting harder to listen too. I’m starting to feel myself through each note, each beat that I listen too. Its like as soon as the decibels hit my ear, it sends a signal to my brain to start bleeding feelings.


They say right before you die you can see your life flashing before your eyes. I wonder if its true. I feel like as humans we suppress so many things, and our brains are so interesting, like we can really convince ourselves of anything if we try hard enough. I was having a conversation with your mother about death. I don’t know how I could do it, telling someone that they are about to die. How do you grasp something like that? She said the 5 stages of grief are real. I’ve had people die in my life but I don’t think I’ve ever been angry about, I just always accepted it as part of life.


I’ve been becoming more disconnected from everything. Today I just sat outside in the rain and stared. I was like blurring everything together and just trying to listen. I was trying to pinpoint where every raindrop was hitting. Just the pitter patter soothes my insides. I’m always thinking about how I have to remember how there is something always bigger than me.I also have to remember sometimes how big I am….and I keep not doing shit to help others. Or at least not as much as I should.


I guess what ever helps people sleep at night. The big hearted are always the insomniacs. and the paradox about how dreamers are never sleep.


I have to do something risky. I don’t know what but just……. something