The Mind of a "Me"

Man I got so many thoughts constantly spinning around in my head that they’re coming out my ears.  These thoughts don’t come from my anger or my frustration, or my problems.  It’s just that everything I see turns itself into an idea worth writing about, worth talking about. That, and I have massive ADHD.  Everyday, walking on my “same old, same old” I hear in my head “wow she looks cute in that top, man I like his shoes, I’m hungry, my skateboard needs new wheels, oh look a humming bird.”  It’s like my mind is jumping from one idea to the next so fast that I can’t control it even though I’m on medication.  And the nightlife isn’t any better.  Thrown into this thriving, bumping social scene of red cups, pitchers and kegs of semi-cold beer, bowls full of some colorful I don’t know what.  Every one drunk or high, making out and dancing, coming to this crescendo in an explosion of hip-hop and techno music that messes up your hair and your clothes, spins you around, and throws you out into the street.  It will squeeze you till you can’t breath if you let it.  Cut you and bleed you dry if you let it.  It has the power to make you famous if you let it.  The power to make you untouchable in the worst and best kind of way. And then you switch off for the night, and switch back on again in a different skin for class, or work, or whatever you do.  I just always see these plaster molds of college classification: the jocks and the frat boys, the nerds and the hippies, the stoners and the drunks, the stuck up and the doormats.  Black, White, Asian, Hawaii, Southern, Northern, East Coast, West Coast, NorCal, SoCal, what the fuck ever, lets all just be.  I’m not saying I’m not guilty, because I am.  It’s just that I feel this pounding, piercing pressure that is a constant factor, every single hour of every single day, in all of our lives.  That’s partly why I let my charm come through my words, because I will weave a blanket with the English language that will pick you up and carry you softly back down to Earth.  I will capture the ecstasy of words spun into speech.  Because after all, I’ve got to say the right thing to get the girl, act the right way, when I don’t even know what the right way is.  I’m talking about how fashion can be fatal.  I mean if you want to get noticed you got to sag your pants a little lower, pop your collar, make your heels higher, hike your skirt up, show some skin, fuck that.  Agassi once said that image is everything.  The impression is that it’s what’s outside is beautiful.  No.  Laughter is beautiful.  Voice is beautiful.  Creativity is beautiful.  Personality is beautiful.  Always coming back to this question of will it make me something?  Can I be something? I am something?  And in the words of my man Anis, “already am, always was, and I still have time to be.”