(no subject)
there is no reason for me to be awake. but here i am, in a chair that i've sat in for many months. my wrist and fingers hurt, my eyes bleed of dryness and of being tired, my knees ache a little, all symptoms no doubt from months of abuse. i honestly haven't had a straight head for awhile; this is not to say that i've been teetering on the edge of some kind of insanity, but i haven't been the level-headed, straight-forward, super-duper-go-get-em kind of guy that i usually am.
as is normal, i haven't really panicked. i didn't panic when a fireball blew up in my kitchen last thursday. i didn't panic when my car of over 10 years did a 180 on a major highway, i didn't panic when i found out that i wouldn't getting my beloved car back (the amount to repair it would have been more than it was apparently worth). i didn't panic when cheques bounced, i didn't panic when i quit my job, i didn't panic when my roommate puked his guts out from eating too many percocets.
deep inside i believed that somehow things would work out, and for the most part, it has.
however, with each overwhelming incident i became more lethargic, more enclosed, more unaware of the real world around me. i indulged in a life mostly seen as addiction and gluttony and sloth, not really caring about myself and/or repercussions. i sat and watched as the carefree environment i once enjoyed became filled with self-doubt, loathing, and indifference.
i've decided to stop being this way. i don't like how it feels. this decision by itself makes me feel better.
hello new world!
i haven't written in awhile. please excuse me if this makes no sense.
as is normal, i haven't really panicked. i didn't panic when a fireball blew up in my kitchen last thursday. i didn't panic when my car of over 10 years did a 180 on a major highway, i didn't panic when i found out that i wouldn't getting my beloved car back (the amount to repair it would have been more than it was apparently worth). i didn't panic when cheques bounced, i didn't panic when i quit my job, i didn't panic when my roommate puked his guts out from eating too many percocets.
deep inside i believed that somehow things would work out, and for the most part, it has.
however, with each overwhelming incident i became more lethargic, more enclosed, more unaware of the real world around me. i indulged in a life mostly seen as addiction and gluttony and sloth, not really caring about myself and/or repercussions. i sat and watched as the carefree environment i once enjoyed became filled with self-doubt, loathing, and indifference.
i've decided to stop being this way. i don't like how it feels. this decision by itself makes me feel better.
hello new world!
i haven't written in awhile. please excuse me if this makes no sense.