Tides aren't just water. they might all be caused by the moon. Tides exist everywhere, the ebb and flow of time and centuries, pulling in and washing back over itself always,. Dreams that came out of the ocean and passed over our human form not long ago. Dreams without a body, without form, without the ability to become. This world is an asylum of disembodied dreams. They only die with you if you take them to your death. Otherwise thyey become the darkness, the wispy shadows that only feel loss. They're as human as you are, and maybe more.

I don't know.

I used to dream a lot. I used to flirt with the fanciful and timeless. i used to believe in mystery and enchantment, and the world was a place I could make my home. I would be welcomed with open arms by a life that was just waiting for me. I would be warm in its soft grip. I don't know what happened, or if I do, I don't like to talk about it. You decide.

So what does this have to do with anything? Nothing at all. I don't have a story, at least not one that goes anywhere. Instead I'll tell you about how Utpopia Sativa burned up and blew away.

Once upon a time, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I was a younger, happier person. i was also high as hell. It was a good time to be alive where I lived. I had a shitty car, a fun shitty job, and a network of people who weren't exactly firends, but who at least I could have a good time around. I need other people to keep my brain stimulated on things outside myself. Turning inward is a dangerous and unpleasant thing. It makes me a miserbale sullen bastard.

Life was easy and free and fun back then. I had no responsibilities, and no worries or woes. I was dumb as hell and young.

Somewhere on Earth there is a bloon floating, lost and free. It isn't going anywhere at all, just floating around, aimless and doomed. That's what freedom is, a baloon without a child fluttering off to it's doom. No control.