Fourteen hours of Esprit last night was a bit overkill for my mind and body. Today's soiree happened to be not such a blast after all. It was much too difficult to bounce my head around it with. My phone had died for more than half a day since, and tried to sleep it off within the confines of a public park hedge that I now call home. It was much of a tragedy for some time. For now I wonder what it would actually be like when shit finally reaches the fan a month from today. Where do I go and who do I turn to for help? Nobody except myself as always.
Miriam was with me once more. She is almost always with me as much as possible. Now I fear for my sanity again. To do the same mistakes as I did before. To live and die with one purpose and sticking by my weak mantra like a sore thumb with no direction and no worries in life. At the very least this woman makes me feel a very happy and lucky man, and sometimes I do ask myself whether I deserve such a painfully honest and loving heart. I was doomed by this same insecurity once before, and I will be damned if I let this win over me a second time. My world is in such a fragile state of affairs that even though I keep telling myself how copacetic I think I am or regardless of how I think about the state of my own existence, I remain grasping at straws with each step, and one wrong costs an awful lot more than a hundred rights. One day is all it takes. My worst enemy is my own self, and I have known this titbit for quite some time now.
While I went out to find a place to recharge myself and my electronic accessories, not much actually happened, save for being bothered by kids who know very little as I woke up from a very traumatic battery, suffered merely hours before, within my meagre hedge. I still had my look-good attire on while being homeless. Quite a contradiction if you ask me. But I was too tired to work up a mood, or even care a bit. Sleep to me has become a survival instinct that I could no longer even dream of losing my hedge even if it is proven to be inevitable. It has clung to me like the slugs that own the fucking soil and spoil me at night.
In a few I will be there once again, biting the cold, waiting for a spin doctor to talk me into believing it is my god-given right.