it appears so simple that my inability to keep my attetion could correlate to an inability to acquire any career-worthy skill. what things are worth doing if theyre boring? my interests are not limited as my drive, and with an inspiring beauty in my life, it seems necessary to settle down in some sort of financial route of predictability as a prelude to marriage. i mean seriously that i intend to do whatever it takes to make my relationship with aleah work.

i don't have any god damn money

Listen to me, i don't have any money. Stop trying to sell me something new because the money needed to enjoy what you're enjoying is killing me. Killing me in the brain. I can't take another ad another concert another game another add-on another meal another insurance payment

i don't have. any. money.

i'm smoking a cigarette be cause it feels good
it feels like i'm accomplishing something when all i'm really doing is
BEING PISSED OFF FOR DRINKING A BEER AND WATCHING TV INSTEAD OF GETTING READY FOR WORK. NOW MY WORK CLOTHES ARE DRYING AND IT WILL BE TOO LATE FOR ME TO GET TO WORK ON TIME. I WILL ARRIVE AT WORK LATE, GET PAID LESS (time) AND STILL BE MISERABLE BECAUSE THE CHECK I GET AT THE BEGINNING OF NEXT WEEK WILL STILL NOT BE ENOUGH TO BRING ME TO ANY KIND OF COMFORT. i'm poor. and getting poorer.

Aleah told me to write this all down to maybe vent or rage in an appropriate environment, but now i'm drooling and every drop of spittle that lands on my hand or face is a slap of disappointment of failure of deceit. i am not happy. i cannot be happy

who could be happy knowing they just cooked the last meal of food in their house. all of those groceries are not mine! i dont have any FOOOD.

i'm all done
i'm finished.

HOW IS THIS OVER ALREADY

i'm back from kroea i'm no different than before i left and my experiences add up to a big BUCK DIDDLY. there are no jobs, i am not needed, i am not valued and i am not good at anythigngnbg gngbn


so fuck it. what's new

you've been good at nothing for so long you might as well be good at describing how poor a job you do at everything

no car insurance....SET UP!??!?!? YES. YES, IT IS A SETUP

i do not want to lie and i do not want to feel like it's ok when i know it isn't

drunk means pain
high means forgetful
cigarettes mean death

the smell of death is present now and i hate it even more than depression. i couldn't go outside today because it is so cold i think i'll fall over, and if i do i'll fall over and hurt myself and then i'll have to go to the hospital because the people that, for whatever reason love me, will want me to be healthy

That is stupid. They cannot change how i do this to myself over and over. I am the only one who can step out of this stupid tin can of anxiety. It's not stupid, but it doesn't make any sense and it makes me LOOK stupid, so ..it might as well be called stupid.

Stupid was my dad's word. He used to say something was stupid and just admonish it, despise it, hate it. He uses his logic to express how things can be better when all he really does is make himself look presumptuous and holier-than-thou.

That tasted horrible. what is supposed to happen when i get a cigarette finished? is there some nirvana that i'm supposed to be seeking as this drugged imbecile.? i can crack a thousand different ways of the way i look/dress/sound/speak but then i get into a situation where i have to actually prove to myself that i'm NOT A MORON then i get to the point of claustrophobia that inhibits my ability to even function. i'm screaming to myself. i'm enraged. i'm full of energy that can only be expressed in disgust or fury................what kind of energy is that

i could punch out a thousand words in the 7 minutes before i have to leave, which is still 15 minutes before my work clothes will be dried. does forgetting to put my clothes in the dryer mean that i'm some sort of failure? what does that mean at allll

i don't want another cigarette but i can't stand cleaning
picking up a plate from one room and tossing it in the trash could be an easy task if it weren't so fucking sad to watch food go to waste around my own house.

is there some formula that predicts what can happen to a person if their anxiety gets so bad they crash their car? i'm at that level. let's say 9/10 because i can still type. let's say 8/10 because i'm not pulling my hair out.

or let's go 10/10 because i am going to ruin my job situation, crash my car, and die in a ditch.

simple becomes hard, quiet becomes loud, and i've got to make myself feel worse before i decide it can feel better

this is out of my control...i'm not in control...i'm out of mind