Flip flops

Over the course of the past month, I've almost completely stunted my writing. Not in development necessarily, but in topics. After blatantly screaming that I have no fucking clue where I am or what I'm doing or what I should be doing, its left me wondering what there is to say about this space. Theres only so much I can say about being confused and derailed. Therss only a handful of creative ways to put that. But ultimately, its just beating a lifeless topic. Its not breathing. Its not moving. Its stagnant and it smells horrible and eventually I need to accept that this is just road kill.

Redefining living is hard. Its a style change that you whine and kick and throw temper tantrums through until you either go back to whats comfortable or find a way to cope. I haven't found that way yet. I haven't seen the positives. I have become reclusive and boring and alien to myself and I dont fucking like it. It constantly feels like I'm just convincing myself that this is right and this is good and 'normal'. But I've done alot of coaxing myself over the years and its never paid off. I convinced myself I was in love. Numerous times. Convinced myself I was doing the right thing when I was so clearly not. Numerous times. I've even tried to convince myself that a mohawk looks sweet on me. And in every situation, I was so far off from being right that it made me look fucking stupid. So why am I trying so hard to convince myself that falling asleep at sunrise is okay- just as long as I'm not doing 'drugs'. That not coming out the house is okay- as long as I'm not high. That not hanging out with people or doing anything or applying myself in any way is acceptable as long as I'm clean because I'm pretty sure I was more alive on drugs then I am now. So fuck ALL of that. Seriously. The term 'quality of life' has everything to do with the definition of living. For me to even think that, just because society and family and my stupid super ego tells me 'drugs are bad', I should be miserable and awkward and not fun and not enjoy myself or be myself... well then what exactly am I doing this for? Is life any more pleasant? Do I feel accomplished or satisfied or anything?

Fuck no. This entire process is complete deprivation of happiness. Falling asleep at sunrise and waking up at 3 is depressing. Not eating isn't fun. Sitting around isn't fun. At least while I was medicated, I would do stuff. I would sleep and eat right. I would go out and be social and not just hide out in my cave hoping that I feel better tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then the next day. And I've put off being happy for so many tomorrows that I'm fucking sick of waiting and not just trying to work with what I have today. This doesn't mean that I'm going to jump back into addictions. But this also doesn't mean that I'm doing this hole straight edge bullshit anymore. There's a happy medium in this spectrum of sobriety. You go too far, you're an unhealthy addict. You turn back and go the other way for too long, you might loose yourself and your hobbies and forget how to laugh. I know what works for me. I know what doesn't. I embrace having will power now but I need to listen to myself more often.

I'm done making rules for myself. At least for now. This is the time in my 20's that I need to just focus on smiling. And enjoying life. And friendships and possibilities and not controlling every fucking thing that happens. I can only control me and that includes my mind space. I need to stop destroying my personality and instead, hone in on what it is I want to do and just do it.

Fuck rules. I got my own commandments.

1. Laugh
2. Be passionate
3. Do it
4. Do it again
5. Do it some more
6. Lollapalooza

Thats fine with me. Hello summer.