I know that he functions kindly.
I know that he never hit or yelled.
I know that he paid for college straight off.

But every memory I have is him with a beer.
How he came in on Christmas falling off the bed.
And when I tried to help him up he said,
"Stop it. You can’t do anything."
Since I started visiting from my college town where I’d managed to spend the last year I haven’t eaten anything but french fries and pizza because breweries aren’t vegetarian friendly.
I can’t focus.
I can’t string two sentences together.
My eyelid is starting to break out.
Every time I get a call my heart jumps.
Because I can’t think of any reason this wouldn’t have killed him.

But I do know all that.
And I understand why.
Which makes me feel like shit that I get so angry.
And spiteful.
And that I regress back into a person who was waiting to change or die.
I only drink when I don’t want to be conscious.
So I feel that if I stop working at the edge of my capability
Or if I run out of novelty
Then that’s how I’ll end up too.

Anonymous asked:

Beautiful

I like girls. Especially mannerisms from non-reflexive thoughts.
A sad smile of number 4, near the end, haunts me.

The view going up the rim.

Things that shift with use or perspective. Not quite magical and not quite surgical.

To do list:

Go over 111 circuits and look at all of the projects for Advanced Lab,
Maybe talk to some professors over email,
Ask Em or Kevin how the hell you get to actually doing programming stuff from the online beginning class things,
Bike on family vacation,
Meditate or yoga or find good books for clearing the mind,
Dance less like a drunk white girl,
Back massages,
Back touching,
Bring the guitar to Cal to mess around a bit,
Squiggle drawing,
Peyote