NIGHT SWEATS

These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.  These are the feelings that send me to bed early.  “What?”, say you.  Life is a mofo SOB.  At some point in life you come to the horrifying realization…so what?  Caught between expectation and desire.  Caught again between desire and ability.  Then throw in nature and habit.

“What?”  It’s simple.  You need money to survive.  What I love to do will probably never make me money.  I’ve whittled my life down to what most in my life consider next to nothing.  Still, I find myself needing to whittle more.  Whittle while I work, you see.

I know I have a gift.  Something that’s remained largely in a mishandled shipper most my life.  I couple years ago, I opened it.  I started writing with great enthusiasm and naivety.  I made a great many rash decisions based on a great many tragedies.  Now I sit amidst the smoldering ruins of my life.  Are you sad yet?  Do you feel sorry for me yet?  Shut up.

I have a roof over my head.  I have more than enough food to eat.  My greatest worries come from we call ‘high class problems’.  I need to shut the hell up!

I ask not for sympathy.  I could use a little more support and encouragement, but even in their absence, I need to progress solely on my own.  I recently told a friend I have a Major in delusion with a Double Minor in stupid and lazy.  I now amend my credentials.  I have a Double PhD in delusion and lazy, a Major in stupid, and a Double Minor in self-scrutiny shortsightedness.  By the way, my mind is fully accredited.

So what am I going to do?  I’m going to have a great day and, at the end of it, probably focus on what I should have done and not what I did.  That’s what I do, and that’s alright.

Now, don’t bother me.  I’m regretting not writing a better bloogk.giphyawil


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