Cynis Chahailis' Journal
Thoughts on Drugs and Sex
Picture, if you will, a life with-out the small picture, one where when you stop to smell the roses the roses blossoms, spreads its seed, withers and dies. Thats my world, one where the small picture is just a dot thats gone in the blink of an eye replaced by the knowlege that there is always something else that needs to be done. Now picture your-self as a fourteen year old thrust into this world, thats me, or was I'm older now, definatly wiser, but I can't help but feel robbed of something. We Dynasts were raised from babies to be the rulers of the world, to grow up faster than the rest of the world, but when it comes down to it, we don't mature faster, we just put on a silly mask and parade around. Here I am forced to wear that mask because I am not meerly one of the many cogs in the wheel of order like I was raised to be, but rather I am a wheel collecting cogs to make a better wheel than the one that exists, and I'm supposed to be attending secondary school. But that is the past, one where the slightest hint of forbidden knowlege would send me questing, the merest possibilty of adventure would get me running, but now I don't have time. So like any person I need an escape, to flee from the cold harsh reality in which I am a puppet who's strings of social resposibilty and parental guidence have been replaced with a responsibility to my God, my people, my world, and my future. And so to ease the pain I take weed, to burn away my string I take coke, to bashish the haunting truthes of reality I do heroin, and opium cures the illness of premature responsibility. Some may condem my particular way of dealing with life as cowardace, I would challange them to say it to my face, I am no coward, just a girl in need of more time to grow. Which brings me to another point, my other activities... well to them I say that somewhere in the passion of intercourse, I see the real person, not what they could be.