Dear Diary,

Sorry I missed you yesterday. I felt like I didn't really have anything 'meaningful' to say to you. But today, there's something I've been thinking about. This hoodie is designed for 'autistic' people. I, however, see another application. E-tards. Music? Nice smells? Stuff that feels good to touch? Wouldn't you agree diary?

There's one other thing I want to add. I feel like whenever I pee standing up and I have to fart, I'm taking a risk of pooping on the floor.

-Nick

Dear Diary,

I just want to get this out of my head before I go to sleep, otherwise it might keep me up for a while. After hours of lurking on Facebook, I'm stunned by the number of people who 'reinvented themselves' after high school. I feel like I should have taken the opportunity to completely 'rebrand' myself for college. I could have been the cool guy I always wanted to be. I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to completely overhaul who I am and what I represent. I feel like nobody will really care in graduate school anyway, so it's not really worth it. Maybe I'll move to another city/state/country for the sole purpose of being able to reinvent my entire image.

-Nick

Dear Diary,

A while ago, I experimented with salvia divinorum. I've actually tried it twice. I guess the second time doesn't really count as "trying" since I had already tried it once before. I don't really know why I did it. I guess it's just another thing to 'experience' in my lifetime, kind of like a trip to some famous museum. The only difference is that I don't have to drive anywhere.

The first time was a 10x or 20x extract, I don't really remember. I didn't really get much out of it, except that everything was hilarious, and I felt like the room was rotating. The second time, it was a 40x extract, and this time it was a full blown mindfuck where I left reality and found myself in some crazy place that my mind created. I wrote down a sort of 'plot synopsis' as I was coming down; it was such a strange experience that I wanted to preserve as much of it as possible. Here you go diary, enjoy this:

Our story begins in the fourth section of The Wheel. For lack of better words, we can call this the "teal section." The section, like all others before it, resembles a room. It is unfurnished, unlike the yellow room, which had a framed painting on the wall, and the blue room, which featured a shelf or a couch or some other unimportant feature.

It is in this room that I seem to regain my memory. I remember nothing of the previous rooms aside from their appearance. In the entire room, everything is teal. This room, like the three before it, is wedge shaped. I am, as always, a part of one wall of the wedge. On the other wall is a woman. She has dark hair, and is wearing a teal hood that seems to flow into the wall behind her. In the far corner is an arched doorway. No light emanates from it. The woman, who is witch-like, for lack of better description, is saying something. She is apparently discussing the next room in the rotation.

In an undescribable amount of time, the teal room becomes Codi's room, and the woman becomes Erica. This glimpse of reality shows me that there is more than just The Wheel. Unfortunately, this look at life beyond the colored wedges of my rotating prison is short lived. The Wheel begins to turn again, and I slowly head backwards into darknes, one click at a time. With each click, the entire teal room seems to be moving underground. As the ground moves upwards past me, I am offered another glimpse at reality. Knowing that there is life beyond The Wheel, I struggle to free myself from the wall that I have become a part of. I succeed, just as Erica seems to be taking another hit.
As a preventative measure, I plan to relocate to my own room so that Codi's room doesn't bring me back into The Wheel.

I stand up, but seem to be falling sideways, so I sit down on the ground. Codi says something about things appearing to warp. As he speaks, I am staring at the carpet, which bears a design that I now know to have been a figment of my imagination. It was a sort of hexagam with wavy edges rather than straight. The edges are curling inwards, drawing out a more intricate design in the center of the shape. Experiencing the exact thing Codi is speaking about, I agree with him. I now make my second attempt to get to my room before I am thrust back into The Wheel.

I am still off balance, and my clothes, which feel sweaty, seem to be made of plastic. They are pressing into me in several spots. My calves seem to be taking the majority of the pressure, so I decide that I must change into shorts.

I stumble into my room without looking up. I am far too concentrated on not falling over. I say something about putting on shorts, unsure of how fucked up I look to those watching me. I then crawl into my bed and begin contemplating what just happened. Laying down, the bed feels hard and creates pressure points on my body. I seem to be connected to the bed at each point, just as I was connected to the wall of my wedge in The Wheel.

I close my eyes, and the sounds I hear create a vivid image in my head. I can hear Erica. She is in an upward slanting tunnel just outside my room. She enters the room and is standing behind me. Above my head is Codi's tree. Erica comes closer to me and taps me on the shoulder with a witch-like appendage that appears to be two fingers joined to create one long one. Startled, I cry out "No!" and open my eyes to find that she is actually standing near my head and handing me my kaleidoscope.

I return to my contemplation of the events that I just endured. I am concentrating on remembering what happened in the rooms preceding the last teal one. I know I spent enormous amounts of time in each room, but I cannot seem to recall what ocurred during my time there. No matter how hard I try, all I can recall is a voice. I cannot remember the words being spoken, but I feel as if they were instructions of some sort.

I was still sort of in this 'oh man, I'm on drugs and I'm so insightful and I'm a good artist and shit' state of mind as I wrote it.

-Nick

Dear Diary,

Today is Mom's birthday. I don't know what to get her. Maybe I'll make her a mixtape. If I do, I'd definitely include these songs. This is the kind of shit I'd include in a DJ set at a house party

AC Slater - Jack Got Jacked (Jack Beats Remix)

FUKKK OFFF - Rave Is King (Le Castle Vania Remix)

Does It Offend You, Yeah - We Are Rockstars (Cold Blank Remix)

So stoked to see Le Castle Vania live again next week at EDC. I got my "I Love You But I've Chosen Disco" shirt all ready. I think lots of people are buying them for EDC, since only small and x-large are in stock. I guess not many little kids or fat people like LCV. And what's up with them only stocking medium for girls? Maybe they're trying to tell fat girls they need to lose some weight before they can rock with the rest of us.

-Nick.

Dear Diary,

I'm 19 years old, and I spend most of my time with 16 year olds. My 19 year old friends think there's something wrong with me.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, kind of like how there's something wrong with Michael Jackson. I remember hearing something about him being so attracted to young kids because he missed out on his own childhood. It's a psychological thing. Maybe I missed out on something about being 16. What is there to miss out on? I guess maybe my driver's license, which I didn't get until I was 17... I don't think that's it though, because I hung out with these kids when they were 12 and I was 15. Maybe I missed out on something about being 3 years younger than me.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, kind of like how there's something wrong with Peter Pan. He's an immature fuck who doesn't want to face responsibility. I guess you could say that about me, but I'm not totally like him. I like to think I'm at least a little bit mature. I mean, I know when it's not appropriate to be an asshole. I know when to put my dickheadedness aside and act "normal".

Maybe there's something right with me, and something is wrong with the rest of society for making me think there's something wrong with me. Age doesn't even exist. Look at animals. Lions don't ever sit around in Pride Rock and think "Fuck, I'm 3 years old, and I still haven't fucked a hawt lioness and made some cubs." They just fuck as soon as they're "sexually mature". Animals aren't like people. They won't criticize a sexually mature 13 year old for getting pregnant. In fact, I'm sure they'd condone it, because 13 is old for lots of animals. (Sarcasm.) Truth is, they wouldn't give a fuck about how old the pregnant animal is, because it's going to push out a kid and preserve their species, which is pretty much all animals care about. (Except monkeys, who jack off a lot.) Anyway, my point is, age doesn't exist. People made it up. I don't know why, maybe it was so they could have an excuse to get free shit once a year.

I haven't had a birthday party since I was 10. I think it has a lot to do with me not thinking age is a big deal. I've always thought that putting "age limits" on things was stupid. Like having to be 17 to watch an R-rated movie. I think you just need to be mature enough to handle it. That could mean 14 for some people or 25 for others. Unfortunately, there isn't really a way of testing that for legal purposes. Maybe everybody just needs to loosen up.

Maybe I'm just "ahead of the curve". Look at anyone who's over 30 years old. Not all of their friends are the same age as them. Some are older, some are younger. My mom is about to hit 50, and the people she "parties" with (co-workers) are like 35. Perhaps I'm just too progressive for this generation. Maybe these 16 year olds understand me better because they're younger than my generation, and younger generations are always a bit more radical.

So Diary, in conclusion, fuck age. I can hang out with whoever I want. Age isn't a qualification for friendship. Common ground, similar interests, these are the things that a friendship should be based on.

-Nick.