Last night, I went out to eat with Mesa, had a few beers, etc. And it turned out to be the saddest dinner I’ve eaten with someone. Usually, I can smile it up and say weird shit to make things lively.
But I just couldn’t. I’m just falling apart. I’m not sleeping. All I have is shit piled up for me to get to. Everywhere I go, I feel as if I’m running an errand. I’m behind, and I feel like I’m behind wherever I go. I’m not even sure what matters anymore. I miss family, my trio, and living life sober. I miss being young, careless, and lurking around like I don’t give a shit about my future and what would happen the next day. I’m sick of drinking my weekends away whenever I get a chance. I hate seeing my desk messy, filled with papers and papers and papers. My memory is getting hazy, my inboxes are filling up with work emails and text msgs, but I don’t want to reply. For one day, I want to ignore them all and just catch up on some sleep and reading. They say you realize your priorities in life while you’re in the bottom of the fucking well. Well, it’s fucking true. My thoughts are more organized, and I know who to be a bitch to and what to say.
It’s the holidays, and I should be happy.
