Whoa, two more weeks! Still denying everything of course.
I really have to hand it to my dad, he's been pushing me so well with this. I still definitely am not independent in most senses. Without his help, I'd probably be so behind on everything. The fact that he paid for the shopping last weekend, seriously; how am I going to provide like that for my children? Thanks God for giving me this family.
God I'm so nervous, I'm always in a haze of denial of everything I do. All I think about is song lyrics and cigarette smoke burning out of my lungs from no where.
I love my drives back from work at 5 am, right before the crack of dawn when it's still dark, damp, and sleep deprived.
I'll have to tell my brother, in case he thinks that everything he gives me I treat with indifference, that honestly, I appreciate those drives back. Since I was 19 working from the Fords location, these shifts he gives me are helpful financially, but more so mentally. Maybe it's dealing with drunk 20 something belligerents, but moreso it's the red bull fueled feeling afterwards, when the work is done and it's time to go home.
These thoughts culminated the last few days, as the wind blows through my shirt into my chest, as dawn signals that the fun is over, that I'm glad to feel alive.
Which says a lot brother, because honestly, though you may think I give the world a facade of my fake innocent smile, that I'm internally just not kind...it's not that, it's just that I don't feel much, though the person I used to be before that numbness was actually in earnest, kind.
I think it's because I'm spoiled and not used to not having what I want. But now it's more like I don't know what I want because I've never went hungry.
This is a bad reason to go to the Peace Corps maybe? No
No, I don't believe that. My reasons are fine, I'm going to suffer and be strong. Suffer maybe a bad term for it, but in the end, I want that harshness. Like tobacco scarring my throat, let my heart burn until it hardens into a film that will block every other damn impurity. Wasting that bit of pure blood flow so I can handle the small fries. I don't think it works that way... but still, it's what I'll go for.
I don't know if I ever wrote this, I certainly expressed this...I asked God when I was 18 for New Years to make me suffer...for 10 years specifically, so I can deal with everything wrong in the world as a general principle by the time I have kids they will think I'm super man, like my Dad.
Except my dad was infallible morally...I am not infallible, I already fell from whatever Prince top grace I was perched on.
There it is...was, will be. It's my best friend's birthday tomorrow, this will be a foot note to myself because I have to guess it all the time, now I'll know.
God bless you all.
I really have to hand it to my dad, he's been pushing me so well with this. I still definitely am not independent in most senses. Without his help, I'd probably be so behind on everything. The fact that he paid for the shopping last weekend, seriously; how am I going to provide like that for my children? Thanks God for giving me this family.
God I'm so nervous, I'm always in a haze of denial of everything I do. All I think about is song lyrics and cigarette smoke burning out of my lungs from no where.
I love my drives back from work at 5 am, right before the crack of dawn when it's still dark, damp, and sleep deprived.
I'll have to tell my brother, in case he thinks that everything he gives me I treat with indifference, that honestly, I appreciate those drives back. Since I was 19 working from the Fords location, these shifts he gives me are helpful financially, but more so mentally. Maybe it's dealing with drunk 20 something belligerents, but moreso it's the red bull fueled feeling afterwards, when the work is done and it's time to go home.
These thoughts culminated the last few days, as the wind blows through my shirt into my chest, as dawn signals that the fun is over, that I'm glad to feel alive.
Which says a lot brother, because honestly, though you may think I give the world a facade of my fake innocent smile, that I'm internally just not kind...it's not that, it's just that I don't feel much, though the person I used to be before that numbness was actually in earnest, kind.
I think it's because I'm spoiled and not used to not having what I want. But now it's more like I don't know what I want because I've never went hungry.
This is a bad reason to go to the Peace Corps maybe? No
No, I don't believe that. My reasons are fine, I'm going to suffer and be strong. Suffer maybe a bad term for it, but in the end, I want that harshness. Like tobacco scarring my throat, let my heart burn until it hardens into a film that will block every other damn impurity. Wasting that bit of pure blood flow so I can handle the small fries. I don't think it works that way... but still, it's what I'll go for.
I don't know if I ever wrote this, I certainly expressed this...I asked God when I was 18 for New Years to make me suffer...for 10 years specifically, so I can deal with everything wrong in the world as a general principle by the time I have kids they will think I'm super man, like my Dad.
Except my dad was infallible morally...I am not infallible, I already fell from whatever Prince top grace I was perched on.
There it is...was, will be. It's my best friend's birthday tomorrow, this will be a foot note to myself because I have to guess it all the time, now I'll know.
God bless you all.
