General uneasiness and skeevy feelings. I woke unwilling to face the day, but got up anyway. Bad
omelets and
burnt bean-water for
breakfast. It's cool and sunny out; the sky like a fresh sheet.
Last night I got rather drunk on Svedka vodka and managed to make everything go away for a little while. It was nice to be around friends. I remember sitting in the bathroom and having a short conversation with God, but I can't remember what I asked him. I woke feeling like by brain had been removed, swathed in cotton bandages, and then replaced. Nothing feels right.
Thankfully, I don't get hangovers.
I've grown really tired of this cycle of work and worry, this slow burn that holds onto your attention without ever really slapping you in the face. It's the worst sort of feeling, a quiet gnawing at your guts, the back of your head. I keep telling myself this is no way to live, but that doesn't change much.
It's the loneliness that will get you. The depression breeds antisocial tendencies, contained resentment, unexplained mood swings. Believe me when I say I didn’t used to be like this.
I know this will pass in time, and my loneliness is just a chemical imbalance and social disease. I have so many acquaintances...
I still have Beautiful Girl, who is more patient with me than anyone has ever been. She tells me that today she is power-washing a tarp in her new bikini. The local teens keep walking past very slowly. I miss her.
Things will get better. This is just a bad day. My hands are shaking.
They can't shake forever.
The friends that I do have tell me I'm unique. One of God's own prototypes, never planned for mass-production. That's a good thing I suppose. Four years ago a friend of mine, a pretty girl named Lauren who I had a mild crush on, told me that I reminded her of one of the Velociraptors from Jurassic Park. When asked how she said it was the way I moved my head, the way I walked. Last night I was told I resembled a large bird.
I don't see it, but people are entitled to their own perceptions. It's amusing to hear stuff like this.
I'm not really writing anything at this point, just jotting things down for posterity, I suppose. The day is still young, perhaps I'll have more to write about later.
Memory of last night: I am looking in the mirror and begin to giggle uncontrollably. When asked what is so funny, I respond "I'm much more handsome when I'm drunk."