last spring i was at this warehouse show at rhino. talking to some DU prick and his friend about existentialism and the injustices of life and how the man brings us down all day erryday. and i made commentary but didn’t really have an interest. because the truth is i don’t really give a shit. life doesn’t make sense, people don’t make sense, shit the weather doesn’t even make sense anymore. so why the hell sit and chat about it. 

anyway his friend is all sippin on his 40 in his bubble vest and he’s like -are you happy?- and i’m like…-yeah kinda sorta, no.- which of course ensues this big long conversation about what makes me happy and why he’s happy and blah blah blah. 

fast forward through this summer. 

drinking. dancing. snuggling. playing shows. drinking. food not bombs. music. camping. traveling. drinking. band practice. drinking. school. drinking. bikes. babysitting. writing papers. drinking. trivia. drinking. pizza. drinking. new friends. gaining weight due to drinking. drinking. airplanes. rental cars. drinking. swimming. drinking. drinking drinking. 

out of those things, here’s what made me happy. 

dancing. playing shows. snuggling. food not bombs. camping. traveling. band practice. bikes. trivia. pizza. friends. and swimming. 

here’s what made me mad, sad, depressed, angry, and self loathing. 

drinking. school. drinking. babysitting.drinking.  airplanes. drinking. rental cars. drinking. oh and drinking. 

now here’s my question i’m yelling at myself after a long painful and emotional week.

why the fuck did i spend so much time fucking everything up? 
i almost lost someone who means the world to me
i have lost some pretty important friends due to drinking
i’ve neglected everything.

and you can give me that crap about well its your choice and its all about moderation and the world is gunna end in 2012 anyway, so lets just party it up but you know what i don’t think i buy it.

i don’t think i really agree with this i don’t give a fuck lifestyle. because i used to give a fuck. and somehow i lost that somewhere in between last spring and now. and i hate it. i’m smarter than this. even this tumblr, this writing project  that was so rad to begin with has fallen victim to my sloth.

and shit man, im done doing this. if it doesn’t make me happy, or push me towards what i need to do, im not going to do it. 

so bye heartburn from whiskey and cigarettes
bye pissing off my friends because i’m acting like an idot
bye self loathing feeling in the middle of the night

i’m done with you. 

i want my life back.