"oh, secret agent man, what would i do without you and your semi-automatic handgun?"

I think I’m most awake at night.

Well, you know, not in the conventional sense of the word. There’s a consciousness within my REM and sleep cycles and all that shit that I think I reach at 3am when the rest of the world completely shuts off. Except Australia, I guess, who’s enjoying the afternoon right now. But that’s far away and kind of frightening. No one thinks of far away, frightening things at night except small children who don’t know any better. They don’t know that night makes you breathe a little deeper and think a little harder and wonder when the sun is gonna come up. The difference, however, between wondering about the sun and wishing for the sun is like the shattered chasm of the marianas trench. Don’t tell me it’s not, because you’d be lying. Nighttime lies are the most trivial of all.

I’m sitting here and I think it might be my favourite window in the world, you know. Fuck Nova Scotia and its beautiful beaches and charming yet frigidly distant relatives that can’t seem to remember my name. I think all I’d feel is loneliness. I don’t know how to tell my mother this. She seems to think it’ll be an adventure, like Disneyworld or outer space. But Disney’s gone corporate and Space is cold and dangerous, so where’s your adventure now? Nova Scotia, apparently. Go figure. Maybe I’ll get mono and I’ll get to stay home.

The waves must be crashing 6 feet high against the rock thingy. What’s the name of it again? Never mind, I don’t care that much. Anyways, these waves are roaring and I think maybe a man’s going to spring from the flying water, full business attire and a serious looking face, and maybe he’ll walk off as if nothing ever happened. As if he was going off to work on Wall Street. Or maybe he’s a message from God, who I’m pretty sure exists now. Existing is one thing, caring is another. My next big question: how does God have true empathy for 6.5 billion people? I don’t have any precise details, but I guess I’ll get back to you on that one.

The wind is blowing pretty hard and I’m really kind of tired. Plus I don’t want my mom to worry about me. Plus this isn’t really going anywhere anyways. Fuck all of you who went somewhere sunny, did you have a fucking epiphany?

Good, I don’t know if I did either. This is hardly an indication of my spiritual awareness. My head feels full of wool. Soggy grey wool that reminds me of England. Mysterious and depressing. I think I’m a word bulimic – my brain feels too fat and full of thoughts after a while so I purge it and feel kind of bad but also a little bit like I’m stepping in the right direction afterwards.

Anyways, have a nice sleep. I know I will.

Drown.

I’m no professional but
I think they were right when they said
“youth don’t feel loneliness”
Except maybe they weren’t.
Maybe we just taste it differently
Like infinite hydrogen clouds
With no pattern or rhyme scheme
Blissed out on thousands of unknown chemicals.

Or maybe your feelings were broken
Smashed like the tears of a giant
Freezing midair and falling to the ground,
Like flawless snowflakes,
Blanketing your shiny button eyes and glossy wooden finish
And your neighbours’ potted petunias.

Just like when we sat on your roof and contemplated
Ourselves,
Exploding in slow motion like the worst action movie of all time.
And then you told me that 27 was a good expiration date
Because after that, it’s about how you’re going to feel when you die
And not about the radio,
Or kids in Africa,
Or getting an 82 in chemistry class,
And how selfish could you be?

I still don’t know how right you were.
I suppose there’s a bit of truth in everything,
We only have to worry when it hides behind a lie
I guess.
Remember opposite day?

And then
You kissed me,
Crushed under a pile of frozen tears
Shaped like hail
And a blanket of gin and tonic
Because you’re debonair like that.

But in the end,
You didn’t tell me
How lonely I made you feel.