“Hitting bottom when you don’t bounce.”
I am like a see-saw of baloney lately. One day I sit in my
shit-filled empire, and I look around, and I see the shiny jewels of
good that exist. Like, my dog. And I am alive. And I have a roof over
my head at least for a short time until things turn around.
But something is screwing with me, the stress, or the new medicine. I
haven’t eaten a thing today and I don’t want to anyways. And, the only
consistent thing that I can count on, are the tears. And they
have been running. Over and over and over again. I keep forgetting
stupid stuff like a senile old lady, and I have to sit here and weigh
the options. I can’t feel comfortable with my heart wrenching itself
free out of my chest. And I am not a stupid person, but I keep looking
like one every time I try to do something. Just stupid stuff, like
common sense. I forgot to feed the dog and all of my other
routines I’ve established are all messed up now because I keep
forgetting aspects of them.
I’m gonna be 28 in a few weeks. And I have nothing to show for any of
my time. But seemingly I have grown adept at telling stories that make
people happy they aren’t me. How’s that for a place in the wheel?
Softer, Softest
As life gets longer, awful feels softer
and it feels pretty soft to me,
And if it takes shit to make bliss,
Well, I feel pretty blissfully,
If life’s not beautiful without the pain,
well I’d just rather never ever even see beauty again,
And it feels pretty soft to me…
Life rents us…Hang in there.
so … maybe you should keep telling stories.
Interestingly enough it’s been a time honored tradition since pretty much the beginning of civilization.
Fetus.
A real life fetus posting. Geez.
Oh, and thanks, you. For everything.