Weeks End
A lot of my hand tools were stolen out of my truck this morning, but it was completely my fault. Second night in a row id left them in the flat bed, I’d gotten lucky the first night, but lightning didn’t strike twice. I guess I’d been so preoccupied with so many other things that I forget to pay attention to the obvious things, which has been a major theme in my life lately. I’m not really upset about it, I’ll get other shit, I guess it’s more indicative of where my minds been at lately.
Been noticing a lot more people around me have been catching COVID lately, more then the first time around. A little boy I met the other day, my friends grandson got sick. A friend of mine who’s a nurse had an outbreak at her work and she got wrecked from it. I think it messes with my sensibilities about how I should feel about my experiences. I almost feel like Napoleon in some way, like I’d crashed my bike, survived, went through nyc in nye, didnt get sick. A lot of my experiences run counter to so many others and I don’t know if that inspires or alienates me further.
Guess I’m really struggling with my consciousness, what I want to do, how I want to go about doing it. Maybe feeling over exposed, maybe feeling vulnerable. A lot of this feels more detrimental to my health, and I can’t lie, I can feel my depression rearing it’s head again, feel I can’t avoid it.
I really wish I could just take things lightly, not peer too deeply and just “be happy” but so much of my being feels unsatisfactory and I feel pitted against the mounting obstacles in front of me, the amount of self work I need to do that it’s overwhelming. I don’t want to do any of it. Just run and hide from it all, ignore it. Just want to drink or smoke or otherwise dilute myself into feeling nothing. These feel like the ramblings of a doomer caught in a prolonged existential crisis in the midpoint of his life. Sometimes this is made to feel as if it were some public suicide note I’m leaving post mortum instead of an outlet for creativity as I meant it to be. Just me into the void muttering to himself as I go, it’s not what I’d intended.
One thing I’d wrote in front of the Statue of Liberty the last day of the year last year is that I’ll either get better, or I’m gonna get worse, and right now that still remains to be seen, but something’s got to happen, that much I’m sure.
