What is death? Is death something we should fear or should we embrace it? Heaven, Hell? Are black holes a place where everything caught in goes to die, or are they the mothers of galaxies? Does a plant feel? Is being under the influence of heroin the best I will ever feel as a living human being on the planet Earth? Is a living human being going to be the only form of existence I will ever experience? Are there parallel universe's? Is there really 11 dimensions? What does 42 mean? Is there a superior race? What the hell is the point of EVERYTHING? Is there a point? Is there meaning in anything, everything, nothing? Is there a collective consciences? Will I ever know the answer to these questions? Are we meant to know the answer to these questions. Anti matter, it's out there. In death will all these questions be answered, and more?
How much do you love the show, Through the Warm Hole on the Science channel? Question everything.
I hope so much that Dec. 21st. 2012 our sun explodes into a supernova and bye bye Earth. At least bye bye life on earth as we know it. This is a selfish want on my part. I guess I really want it to end for me. I have so many people I love in my life with new children, and they are so happy. They want to see those children grow, become adults, and someday procreate and pass on their DNA. I have no children. The only reason I would want to live is to write. Even though I'm no good at it, I love it non the less. I have stories buzzing through my head. At night my mind comes alive with characters as real to me as my family. The thing is, I'm so apathetic/lazy that I hardly ever write down these stories. So what should I do to remedy this? The only way I know to remedy anything. Take drugs. My physc doc wants me on adderal so bad, and I don't want to go back on it, because it made me so anxiety ridden, and my moods swung like an ape in the trees. The only way I'll go back on Adderal, is if they are not extended release, and its a low dose. This way, I will get the rush of energy I need to write all these stories down, and it won't last too far into the night disturbing my sleep.
I hate to put Methadone down in anyway, because it has helped me in many ways, BUT it is making me more lazy, fatter, less focused. Without it, I'm on heroin. Lets just for a moment assume I could get off Methadone and not go back to heroin. Say the depression bit passes without me committing suicide. My brain normalize or at least goes back to the way it was before opiates were entered into system. Back then I was prolific in my out put of poetry. It just flowed out of me like a full bladder. Yes it smelled and read as bad as piss. I read on an epic level. Book after book. Literature was my life. Just imagine if I had spent the past 10 years honing those skills, instead of falling into addiction? What's the point of imagining Anna? There is no going back, and now you have to hone your skills as an adult. Can an old dog learn new tricks? God I could kill my fucking dad. Drunken asshole. I got to go.