My life is uneventful. I meet some people, forget others; a few even die over time. The interest I find in things can only be measured realtively, because I have had far too much free time to think about nihilism to find any intrinsical interest in life; well, that's what the romantic suicidal poet part of me would like to think, but every once in a while I am shaken out of this by something beautiful, it might be the color of the trees or the glint in someone's eye or nothing at all.
I abuse DXM. I abuse almost every other mind-altering substance I can get my hands on, but nothing changed me as much as my DXM abuse. It made me another person, simply by contemplating what my own mind could create with a little chemical aid. Nothing much creative really, but my nihilist ideas embodied nevertheless; it is one of those beautiful things, but works the other way round by proving me how trifling everything is. With that in mind I can find peace in watching the sky, and make my own meaning out of things.