Goin' Blond, or Camus, or The Final Straw, or Hope I Never See Your Cunt-Face Again, or John Denver.
Where to start? Where to start? Hmm. Well, I have changed a lot. I have lived many places, done many drugs, gotten many tattoos, burned many bridges, and done many things I probably shouldn't have. But I've enjoyed it, for the most part. I think I've successfully quit smoking. And the reason is because I went on a drinking binge this past weekend and only smoke one cigarette. I haven't smoked anymore these past few days. This patch seems to work. My writing is completely worthless. I haven't written anything, not even a blog, in the past two months. I feel completely worthless. I start a new job in a week. It'll be one where I'm not on call all of the fucking time. I've recently gotten interested in the military. I'm thinking about getting some of my tattoos removed so that I might join. I think I'm tired of running, so I'll take a job that runs for me. All for what? A family that I'm not even sure I'll enjoy? A wife I can't even have an intelligent conversation with? Probably. The few friends I have left are the only things keeping me stable. It's strange to think about what all has changed since I've moved back to Texas. I suppose I'll just keep setting fires until I only have one thing left. Maybe I'll have the balls enough to set that ablaze and walk away to something different. Something better. With enough alcohol in me, I'll fucking do anything. Should I just give it up? I think so. I do think so.