anxiety, self-doubt, quick to anger, stressed out, reclusive, acerbic, sleeping all the time... worried about the future, about where money comes from, about what is going to happen, about what should have happened already.
am i depressed or just going crazy? at least i am smart enough to realize that i am having some sort of problem. i swear i'm not always like this.
my days go on well enough. i interact with people, i have a good enough time. i'm amicable, i'm well liked. i don't rock the boat... i'm a good egg.
as soon as the whistle blows, i'm fred flintstone sliding down the back of a brontosaurus... my pedal is to the metal, i cut people off in traffic, i scream my way home... i can never get there fast enough. one time it took me less than 15 minutes. if other drivers stop and stare, my hands fly up, mouthing obscene gestures and slamming on the brakes.
what is it about a car crash that compels us to not look away?
as soon as i make it home, i run inside. some days i'll strip naked and lie beneath the ceiling fan, it's dusty gust blowing my day away... i'll fall asleep for 3 or 4 hours, and then awaken with a fright, worried that i overslept, spine all kinked up from the fetal position.
i'm disinterested in everything. there is a layer of dust over everything that i own, everything that is me. the duality of my personal and professional lives is crumbling... the only difference between the middle of the week and the week's end is how loud i speak.
i'm trying to stop living up my vices during the week... sometimes what's easier is not best.
if you're gonna do something wrong, be sure and do it right.
-bobby
am i depressed or just going crazy? at least i am smart enough to realize that i am having some sort of problem. i swear i'm not always like this.
my days go on well enough. i interact with people, i have a good enough time. i'm amicable, i'm well liked. i don't rock the boat... i'm a good egg.
as soon as the whistle blows, i'm fred flintstone sliding down the back of a brontosaurus... my pedal is to the metal, i cut people off in traffic, i scream my way home... i can never get there fast enough. one time it took me less than 15 minutes. if other drivers stop and stare, my hands fly up, mouthing obscene gestures and slamming on the brakes.
what is it about a car crash that compels us to not look away?
as soon as i make it home, i run inside. some days i'll strip naked and lie beneath the ceiling fan, it's dusty gust blowing my day away... i'll fall asleep for 3 or 4 hours, and then awaken with a fright, worried that i overslept, spine all kinked up from the fetal position.
i'm disinterested in everything. there is a layer of dust over everything that i own, everything that is me. the duality of my personal and professional lives is crumbling... the only difference between the middle of the week and the week's end is how loud i speak.
i'm trying to stop living up my vices during the week... sometimes what's easier is not best.
if you're gonna do something wrong, be sure and do it right.
-bobby
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
ragtag:
this wooosh is familiar. can we be friends? i'll look for you at the aquabats show.
sjtwelve:
i didn't know which stores in the valley were the best. i've been to zia, eastside, and stinkweeds. not sure any of them impressed me. i guess there's something more than just finding the music you want.... there's a vibe too. so maybe i should check out karma.