Its that time of year when all the delicious, summery beers and shit get released into our cups and tummys. I'm a little excited. Not really though (it was just a good intro). This year, I'm crossing my fingers for something more awesome to fill up our isles. Going off of my writing, you might be wondering- hmm, is he hoping the old Coca-Cola recipe comes back? And no, as bat shit crazy as that would be, I have accepted that will never happen. I also dont think drinking cocaine would be too enjoyable ( however, I think I know some folks who would make sure to be first in line to buy that junk). Unfortunately, what I'm hoping for is even less likely and probably more addictive.
What I'm talking about is a nice, cold bottle of optimism. Sealed and shipped right to my door step so that I dont even have to really move before I start thinking more positively. This would insure that when I jump out into the world, I would be singing and dancing and laughing and acting like a person who enjoys life. Ugh... That would be my dream product right there.
Since my dog attack, I've spent the majority of my time boarded up and locked away in my bed room. It fucking sucks. Its one thing to do this during the winter, while its cold and nasty and the only comfy, logical decision is to pile on the sweat pants and sweat shirts and snuggle up with my dog all day. But now, its just getting depressing. I'm sure the main question that arises is- why the fuck dont you get out and do something then? And my answer is... I'm just a god damn pessimist. Really. I dont have an ounce of optimism in me. Not a drip. And when things dont go my way, I literally seclude myself and hope that patience will bring me to a better time ( I realize that sounds dumb, but thats just how I'm wired I guess...)
Its not working so swell. Nothing gets better magically. I attempted to live a little about a month ago and that just backfired on me completely. I got dragged back into addictions. Back into my freakin ex girlfriends arms, who completely brutalized my heart years ago. Back into unhealthy bullshit... Its just been a constant washing machine. It seems like the second I start doing right, everything goes wrong. I have embodied the meaning of 1 step forward and 2 steps backward. Every time I begin to make progress, or I begin to put on my happy shoes, life shafts me with a big old dose of shitty. Back and forth. I get off drugs, I forget who I am. I get my skin clear, I get bit in the face by an old deranged beast. I've wedged myself between this shrinking game of pong that I'm doing with my life and now I'm stuck in my room. Nearly giving up on whatever comes next. I'm down to the last of my hope here.
I've even began desperately praying. I'm not sure who to yet, but everyday I catch myself closing my eyes and venting like theres someone on the other side of my eye lids waiting to grant my wishes. If that were true though, that person is a very bad wish granter, let me tell you... I break down at least twice a week. Completely. Usually while I'm showering or during some other reassurance that I'm not taking care of myself like I need to. I wish muscle stayed around longer. And I wish my face shaved itself.
I am continually redefining what rock bottom feels like. Apparently, you never really get there. Trust me, when things are bad, they can always be worse. And sometimes, the universe just likes to laugh and piss on you while you're down and you sit there confused as fuck wondering why everything hates you so much ( this question never gets answered btw. I've just gotten used to feeling like a urinal).
Is there a trampoline that I'm going to land on soon? That would totally make this hole depressing, heart cracking, tear leaking, unshaven free fall somewhat fun at least...
If anyone finds that bottle of hope laying around, pass it my way. Or let me know of a vendor who sells that shit in bulk. I could really use it about now.
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