there is no such thing as home
today is the mothers birthday. well, not really. technically she doesnt have a birthday this year. or next year. but whatever. she wants andy and i to come over to her place and have a "family dinner" with her, the sister, and david. theres a chance he might bring one of his kids with him. in all honesty, i dont feel like meeting another new person. im quite content with the people i know and like, and those i hate, thankyouverymuch. and the whole idea of a family dinner just makes me feel nauseated and anxious. the mother expects it to all go smoothly, fluid, as if it had been rehearsed a hundred times before. she even asked if andy could come over a few days before and we could "practice" for the actual night. i was thinking..what the fuck??? im so fucking sick of this facade of happiness that everyone has on their face. and im a fucking hypocrite..because im just as good a liar as they are.
this is also my only day off work for another week, because im an idiot and always try to max out my hours...for lack of anything better to do. im a workaholic with no work ethic. im really thinking about just applying at random places in minneapolis/st.paul that might allow me to have whatever piercings i want. i like the job i have now, but its in fucking suburbia..which means about 95% of the people i see are closed minded suv driving fucks (the remaining 5% are actually kind of cool..) and its getting to that point in my life where i really think i need to start doing something.
im pretty sure ive given up on ever getting my ged..or taking a few college courses...and each day i look around me, see all these people rushing around going nowhere..desiring something but not being able to pinpoint it....this growing numbness inside of me.....
lately ive started writing my own eulogies..i can almost relate to what im writing, as it is about me, but then again i truly am so distant from everything that i cant quite grasp anything.
my so called art has failed. if theres one thing ive felt these last few months, it was my so called art slowly slipping away. dying.
last night i picked up a box of benadryl...48 pills. i contemplate taking them all....
this is also my only day off work for another week, because im an idiot and always try to max out my hours...for lack of anything better to do. im a workaholic with no work ethic. im really thinking about just applying at random places in minneapolis/st.paul that might allow me to have whatever piercings i want. i like the job i have now, but its in fucking suburbia..which means about 95% of the people i see are closed minded suv driving fucks (the remaining 5% are actually kind of cool..) and its getting to that point in my life where i really think i need to start doing something.
im pretty sure ive given up on ever getting my ged..or taking a few college courses...and each day i look around me, see all these people rushing around going nowhere..desiring something but not being able to pinpoint it....this growing numbness inside of me.....
lately ive started writing my own eulogies..i can almost relate to what im writing, as it is about me, but then again i truly am so distant from everything that i cant quite grasp anything.
my so called art has failed. if theres one thing ive felt these last few months, it was my so called art slowly slipping away. dying.
last night i picked up a box of benadryl...48 pills. i contemplate taking them all....