It’s like looking into a dirty mirror that you cant wipe clean. Are these stains? Maybe stains behind the behind the glass, behind what ever the fuck makes a mirror a mirror. I discovered that three heavy years of drinking and snorting drugs and being a total waste of goddamn space damaged my nervous system and causes my heart to act like a tired, grumpy, and hungry child in a long car ride. I would feel like I was always suffocating. It’s awful. Just as awful as the amount of stress I was putting my body through for the sake what who fucking knows. Was I actually having fun? Doing cocaine at 7am because I had to work at 8 and haven’t slept yet and need to be awake long enough to hold a job I didnt give a shit about. How many times I have mistaken nights for lonley and would dress myself up in booze and blow and act a fucking fool taking in strange men without even a name. HA! Fucking barf. I used to delete old memos and old photos because it fucking sucks to look back and then have all these hidden memories triggered and then youre left there with your cock in your hand, embarassed and doing my favorite routine of “Would have, could have, should have” over and over until your distracted again and the world continues. IT WILL ALWAYS CONTINUE. Back to where I was trying to go. I have been sober for over a month now. I don’t need a congrats. I would still be drinking if it didnt make me feel like I was dying. I used to take caffiene pills. Started doing it for college, and then it became a routine because it was easier and cheaper to pop two with a glass of water and be ready for the day. Rather than a coffee. Couldn’t be bothered. I would take 1400 mg a day on average. Every day for almost 2 years. Now, I can barely have a large coffee without feeling like I am going to explode. It isn’t an energy that I like. I don’t feel awake after it all kicks in. I feel like I can’t do enough. Anxious. It’s so unfamilar and horrifying. I think my body was just a fed up with me as the people I used to surround myself with. Unlike them, my body wasnt passive. It was honest. It wasnt until I felt like I was actually dying to do something about it. But good fucking god, at least someone told me. Ironically, that someone turned out to be me. I am amazed at how much I have learned about myself without the daily dose of some kind of alcohol. I have so much more confidence sober than I ever did when I was drinking. My brain actaully functions and simple tasks are not as hard as they used to be. I pattern make on the side and it requires alot of math. ALOT OF MATH. And fucking shapes, fractions, decimal conversion. A fucking lot of brain power is needed to get the ball rolling to actually have a garment that looks and fits the way the way you wanted. It used to be hard. Sometimes, I wouldnt be able to grasp what I was trying to do and after spending hours constructing a flat garment covered in eraser crumbs and broken lead bits, I would cut and sew. Stand in front of the mirror. and fucking vomit. Somewhere in the 200 hundred billion extra steps I took, it didnt look like what I wanted it to or it didnt fit in areas it should. I would feel like a failure. Now, I can do that and more. I kind of feel that I can think in colour. It’s like chess, but I see things in lines. Like trails left for me to follow. Which 4 steps can I take right now to reduce 2 steps later and accomplish 2 things at once? Imagine that in a blink. Of course I am still a fuck up and make mistakes all the time, but the scale tips towards gold now. Alright, where was I going to go with this. Oh yeah, so I have found myself ( I feel like I am always finding myself) (finding myself doing things I shouldnt be doing, but hey fuck it) looking back and not giving a shit. Why would I take something from the past and apply a new emotion to it? And then on top of that, sulk in it? No. CANT. I think I may have just surrendered to what I used to be and then gave it away. Blew it into the winds of time like a dead dandilion. How many times can you look back and grow? Apperenlty, your mind plays tricks on you and makes up things. I dont believe that. Show me the facts. People love to sulk in shit. Shit up to their necks, swim in their own saddness for hours, days. They always need a why. Why what? Why you, why that, why this, why why? Who gives a fuck. Shower up and go. You can’t outrun yourself, so just face it and get it over with. Not everything needs nor even has an answer to give you. Stop constantly project your need for comfort. I decided to stop deleted “old mes” and to never apologize ever again for how I used to be. I dont live in that time period anymore and cant change anything about it and I cant reason why an apology would help anyone move on. Could you imagine being stuck at 11:32am January 15,2004 for 15 years until whoever did whatever apologized? All that time wasted waiting with a foot in the door. It doesnt fix anything. If it’s broken, either fix it or replace it. I forgot how nice it feels to write. To ramble back and forth and then share it. Share a piece of me, however small it may be. And not need anything in return. But to share. BYE
I’m at a coffee shop right now and I just want to state that small talk for the sake of fucking talking is exhausting. SHUT THE FUCK UP. Order your shit and tip.
You don’t give a fuck how their day is going, and when they go to ask you- you’re going to order instead of engaging in a conversation you started. You’re welcome.