Being alone on Valentine's day is just as lonely as being alone any other day.

If you're lonely, there are a lot of ifs and places for the mind to wander off to. A lot of drinks to go with thoughts that might lead but to repeat themselves like echoes.

If you're just alone it's... not bad at all.

Valentine's not as "in your face" as Christmas.

Everything is made up. All our complicated narrative in which we've got this or that to do, is just a way for us to make sense of things. We are completely and absolutely irrelevant. There's no need for anyone, and therefore everyone can do whatever they wish with themselves. If you truly feel that much pressure, stop. Do something else. Feel different. If you don't like where you're going change the way. Walk in the right direction and let the journey guide you. Don't think about fucking "I need to be here by this time or that..." that's bullshit. Just walk wherever you wish to go. Every step gets you closer. If this is not what you want do something else.

You don't like who you are? Be someone else! Be whoever the fuck you want.

Carryin your past with you is a choice we make, but if it's more of a burden than it is an instrument to enjoy your identity, then fuck it. Be, live, move, breathe, and just... fly man.

To have something to say and have not the words to speak it,

many folk at many times have suffered.

Let not our thoughts remain unspoken,

let our minds wander the mindscape and find

what was supposed to come

naturally, effortlessly...

And sing.

He likes what he likes, and he likes it a lot. In some way, that makes him easy to be around. Predictability goes a long way, you know? Whatever works. Sure, he gets bad mouthed, but who doesn't? At the end of the day he's just like any one of us; looking out for number one, looking for something that makes you feel... good. He's just that much more resourceful, you dig?

I've always fancied a scratch of the balls early in the morning, so I scratched them... and then the murders began.

(sighs)

I don't think it worked.

I could see us laughing, having the greatest of times. Our lives would be perfect, if they only were to be. It'd just be you and me... and my monkey. Such a pretty sight. Maybe we'd go on adventures, and our love would get tested, but we'd conquer it all, I tell you. We'd be perfect.

Jazmine. I'll call you Jazmine. Even if I knew your name I'd call you that, because I don't need to know how others have called you, what names you've been given. I see you, and I know who you are. I recognize you.

No good will ever come from dwelling on how great our lives would be. We are apart, and will remain like that, I think, at least for a long time. Though I can see great things for us written in the stars, I just can't picture me: out of this dump, off of this pipe. I'm just a bum Jazmine, that's all I am, for now. We could be great together, true, but we're apart, and I'm bound to this place, to this pipe, to these dreams I get, to this life I have. I'm bound to dream about the life I'll never have. I'm bound to have it, though only in mind. I'm bound to you, but you are free... to live, to love, to laugh, to leave.

I dream, and my dreams are alive. Like bugs, like insects, they crawl to the back of my head, to the whole of my mind. They get to live while I get to die.