One Hundred Thirty Seven

Becoming.

Once I couldn't sleep. I probably slept less than 8 hours in a week. The sleep I got came after hours of tossing and turning and thinking. Brain chemicals firing. I'll probably die of a stroke like Kirby Puckett. Whatever, those things we cannot control. At least not in the short term. But in the long term we are all becoming. But into what?

Once I couldn't sleep. But every day in school I felt sharper and sharper. It got to the point where I could anticipate things coming before they happened. I told someone I was evolving into something else. They laughed. I wasn't joking. Eventually this period passed away and I slept better. The bong tokes and the Simpsons and the bars and the floating. Floating. Drifting with the current of the world. Not swimming against it, just sitting in your float, leaning back, basking in the warmth of the afternoon. For those moments, the day is eternal, you are eternal.

But it ends. Things always end. The candle is extinguished. The last splash of the drink runs down your throat and it is over. You can light another, order another. But the one that you enjoyed, that had been with you is gone. Forever.

Becoming.

I have born witness to all of the sins as well as many of the virtues. All are real and are all good in their place. Strength is what I admire in this world. It comes in many forms, and some cannot even recognize it when they see it. Even from a mound of puke in a park an oak tree may grow. The path of excess leads to the palace of wisdom..... or was it madness? It is of no real importance really as we are all becoming whether we like it or not.