Something else is hurting you – that’s why you need pot or whiskey, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.
"You’re like the lotus flower that had to grow through mud to become beautiful."
"Got two reasons why I cry away each lonely night/The first one’s named Sweet Anne Marie, and she’s my hearts delight./The second one is prison, babe, the sheriff’s on my trail,/And if he catches up with me, I’ll spend my life in jail.
Got a wife in Chino, babe, and one in Cherokee/The first one says she’s got my child, but it don’t look like me.
Set out runnin’ but I take my time,/A friend of the devil is a friend of mine,/If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.”
Well. I went for 5 years in a row up until last year. It started out so fun and awesome and then became progressively more terrifying each year. Until the year I went the first thing that anyone said to me was don’t take any jello shots, it’s laced with bad acid and if someone comes up to you and marks your arm with a pen go to the medical station immediately because someone is randomly dosing people with really strong stuff and a few people have been taken to the hospital and possibly died. This was the first night. My cousin actually did see someone die the next day. Everyone there seems so fucked up like a bunch of drug zombies. In conclusion, Camp Bisco was cool but has been ruined by drugs. Maybe some wouldn’t think so but I personally do not like drugs at all and I don’t enjoy being around that energy.
aaaand this is why i no longer wish to partake in the festy scene
People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, ‘Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner.’ I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.