I remember a lot of stuff. Why shouldn't I? I know that after the war we all had our memories erased by President Clintron's television vampire snuff-show; that mile-long period between January 07, 2004 and March 18, 2005, but I remember shit. Fuck you, you're not my narrator!
Anywho, I remember things. I remember races around town. I remember old episodes of old ideas. I remember cocaine. I remember adderall. I remember the day the music died. I remember the day the music came back as noise rock. I remember slitting my wrists and forcing you to drink from them. I remember when for some reason this paragraph got really dark out of nowhere. I remember when fun didn't cause me physical pain. I remember when emotional pain hurt more. I remember all those times I said I couldn't feel but I was really just pissed off to notice I was crying. I remember drinking alone. I remember drinking with friends. I remember that guttural, primal howl of loss when I remembered my mom's chicken and noodle soup. I remember when I left my thermos at school for a month and a terrarium grew where my Chef Boyardee once thrived. I remember now how much I used to love all the things that make me sick. I remember when I didn't love that sick feeling in my intestines. I remember when I didn't need that too feel. I don't remember very much at all.
I just want to have a night's sleep again.
I just want gravity to shift so I can plummet to the top.
~Kip
