SpotLight City

Dear Alaska.

You are my favorite. I cannot believe that someone named after such an odd state would be so incredible, but then again, I should have seen it coming. As usual, I’m thinking way too much, taking too many meds to properly function as your average human being. We are so far from average. It’s like the filter in my brain has finally expired and left me only with a flood of useless garbage, something that no one should really hear except me. But maybe that’s why, maybe my subconscious is just so fucking pissed at me that it’s sick of itself, letting itself go. I don’t know, I don’t know, Alaska.

I never thought that would be so natural, so easy. I will be twenty-two next year, I have done nothing significant. Honestly, I have not contributed a single thing to society. I only took took took and want want want. That’s all there is.

And now I’m back on the West Coast for a while, scraping and stretching and making things work. I’m trying. And you suddenly appear asking me about a fox tattoo and I am floored. I was completely floored, and for perhaps the millionth time in my life, I have to make sure that I am not in fact living a movie, still sleeping in a dream. But at this point, I don’t care.

Has everyone seen Inception? I think I am in limbo, and I don’t even know it. This can’t be real, Alaska. I don’t think I’ll ever see you again, but I hope I do. I pray to God that I do.