these thoughts are as useless as the other ones

[jonnyindigo-blog]

Ready

I’m ready for it all. I’m scared yes, but the shaking in my legs won’t stop the marching in my feet. The life I love, the love I love, it’s all laid out in front of me. And though I’m scared as I try it all on that it won’t fit… I’m going through with it anyways, because every time that fear rears its misunderstood head, I start to think about the life I’ll live if I don’t do it like this. The scared life I’ll live. The life where I go to college, get a degree, get a good job, get a decent wife, and continue this trend till the boring day I die.

That excuse of a life isn’t for me.

I’ve known this since I was in kindergarten being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I know my lips muttered “policeman” and “fireman” but my heart and mind were conversing “Look, we don’t fucking know, but we’re gonna buy a little time and play this game till we’re ready” And you fucking know what?

I’m ready. I’m not afraid to admit to myself I want to be president, or a 5 star chef, or the world’s most renowned actor or the world’s sexiest most talented musician. Fuck I’m not even afraid to say I might be blessed to live all these lifetimes in this one lifetime I’m given starting with music and acting and ending with politics and science.

So there it is.

Boy oh boy am I ready.

[jonnyindigo-blog]

Oxy

My nose stings of hipster cigarettes, the abuse of my mom’s medication, and these relentless dreams. It’s odd that nobody immediately around me even remotely shares the ambition and obsession that I have for my goals. Maybe I’ll make a friend soon who’s as mad about the camera, girls, drugs, and lights as I am. Maybe there’s a reason nobody around me is the same as I. All I know is that at the end of everyday, no matter if I’m high and sad, sober and sad, high and happy, happy and sad- no matter where I reside for the night, my big picture spirit just knows I’m going to reach heights of success that are unfathomable. And I think this delusional optimism is birthed from this deep burning desire, that swells and inflates every day I breathe. No matter if I write a poem, made a new song, or contacted somebody important, this… Thing, this otherworldly thing in me grows, crescendoing, becoming a symphony I no longer can ignore, soon no longer to be ignored by others.

[jonnyindigo-blog]

I’m not here to just vent anger but fuck, man. What is the deal with people laying belly up now a days? What the fuck is up with people refusing to take responsibility for the life that they live on the day to day. I mean I understand that you can’t fuckin control the weather, or if you’re significant other fucks the postman, or how ugly you are... But you have so much in your control it’s straight retarded. You could pack your shit up, scrounge up 23 dollars and get a greyhound from where you are to an adjacent state with a little bit better weather. You could stop dating your shitty significant other. You could reframe your definition of beauty and stop calling yourself ugly (honestly it’s annoying to everybody including yourself.)

Seriously, let’s go on a power trip for a second. You could shit yourself right now. The only thing stopping you is how much poo is in your butt and if you really want to deal with the consequences. If that doesn’t give you a strange feeling of control then i don’t know what will.

Look I’m not preaching that everybody should go pooing themselves and scaring all of their friends away, shit this isn’t even innuendo for anarchy, I’m just fuckin sick and tired of seeing people live their lives for others. they take the 70 fragile, fragile, fragile years that they’ve been given, and you know what they fuckin do with them?

They don’t go out and watch the sunset in pure bliss, they don’t go out and work their fuckin hardest to achieve their goals in life, they don’t pick up that instrument they’ve always said they were going to or blawhaweh

No. They give up all that they have because they’re fine with that. I don’t know about you but that’s not me.

[jonnyindigo-blog]

It’s Great

It’s great that you’re significant other is making you do that.

It’s great that you’re mom or dad is holding you back.

It’s great that if you did have the resources you would be a millionaire by now.

And It’s also great that you really fuckin believe that bullshit.

This hipster lookin ass blog lookin ass shit is going to be a compilation of thoughts similar to this. I’m really sorry if you’re offended, but if you are, you’re probably the type that tells themselves this type of shit then actually believes it.