I’ve been having the craziest epiphanies all morning and afternoon. I don’t know how to start, so I’ll just post screenshots as how things were developing…
So I’ve come to the conclusion that the songs you really identify with will usually hold the truths to why you’re unhappy (this is like, the most Chuck Klosterman-ish thing I’ve ever said btw)
It doesn’t matter how out of your cool-league the song is, it’s still relating to an unconscious part of you that you either don’t find yourself worthy of, or won’t accept you’d be curious to visit a new low. (That was also very Chuck)
I thought caring was the right thing to do, because it’s what felt uncomfortable to me, and I thought uncomfort was the way out. But let’s be real here, I’m as shameless as asking for 2 green salsas when I know I’m only going to use 1 (That’s right, this little honey badger gives zero fucks)
So, I guess I’m deciding to embrace my anxiety and stop paying a caretaker to watch over it. It’s not relaying all the information and hiding valuable intel from me. I want to talk to it. Without it I feel I have nothing to relate to, which is probably why I have the hardest time connecting with people.
I hope the coffee shop doesn’t mind seeing me go in more often, cradling a breakfast burrito like a baby.
With all that being said, I’ll be posting this on the local personals (or most likely just a new tinder bio) :
(That sad face is pun intended)
I’m deciding to go off my meds. Will buy pizza and beer to anyone willing to hang out with me. Must sign a waver acknowledging you’re aware you might have to deal with a bonkers bitch. I reserve the right to execute veto power tho.
Side effects for you may include guilt, suicidal thoughts, codependency, feelings of wtfness, sudden urges of training for a marathon, asking yourself why you’re still around, being asked by me why you’re still around, feeling one with the world until all I respond with is “haha” or “I see”, trouble sleeping, sleeping too much (with me), finding yourself looking for my car in parking lots, me yelling at you to stop being a fucking stalker then making out with you, sudden urges of becoming a father and thinking of me when you hold a baby, either cause you want a baby or cause I act like a baby (never really figured that one out, but it’s been a side effect before so I’m just trying to comply with the FDA here)
Seeking someone to listen to sad songs with and have intersubjective mental exchanges. But you can’t be depressed, only I can be depressed, you just have to be funny.
(Must also like piña coladas)