I’ve delayed writing all day. Although its the only thing that’s been on my mind.
Other than the thought of existential annihilation.
What do I attribute this to?
Lack of sleep? An overactive mind? Hormones? The rupture in what relationship was left of my father? My inconsistent efforts to free myself of relationships and form a whole one with myself? My nagging regrets that I don’t quite regret, but just enough to rehash and burn myself with those feelings, as if I’m burning myself with the ember of a cigarette butt. What purpose other than self-abuse is there?
My chest cavity is bursting with confusion. Pain? Sometimes. Tightness? Definitely. Sadness? Waves. Its the subtle panic to escape it all the culls thoughts toward death, like this is preferable to the shame and humiliation that await me… but await me where? What is this… event?
My job? My efforts ebb and flow, some days bursting with inspiration and work ethic, others completely unfocused, performing the minimal to assuage whatever conscience remains.
My childhood buddy is encouraging me to get a federal job, and has been for years. You’re too smart for Nashville, he says. You need to get to DC. I tell him I appreciate his vote of confidence.
What am I doing with my life?
I feel lost, alone, spiraling in space.
Where the fuck to these feelings come from? Why the hell doesn’t everyone else have these from time to time? And if they do, how the hell do they get rid of them for good? How do they make it look so easy all the time?
She’s here…..the Turkish delight. More later.