I have a new friend. He likes to grab life by the balls & live every day to it’s fullest. With him, I pretend I’m the same way. But mostly I’m just like, “fuck you, life.” He feels that every day he’s alive is a gift. Many days I feels like I’m alive is a punishment. He’s a great influence on me- I get out more, I read more, I write more, I perform more, I’m happier more. But a lot of the time I feel like I’m trying my damnedest to keep my boner for life hard for him when it just wants to rest & stay soft.
I like to think that I get up everyday & try my best. I think we all do.
I haven’t written a post in forever. A lot has changed for me. For example? I’ve started to drink again. Some of my friends are worried. Some of my friends are glad. Most of my friends don’t care- realize I’m an adult & I’ll figure it out for myself.
I was happy. Like, really happy for about 2 months. I knew it was fleeting. I’m still ok, but not like I was, it wasn’t even manic- I was just glad to be alive. That never happens. I can’t tell this to my new friend. I don’t think he had any time for sorrow or self-pity.
What’s up with him? Weirdo.
God, I admire that guy. Because I buy it. I’m buying what he’s selling. He genuinely likes life. And he has a good one, the one that he wants. I have a lot to learn from him.
I’ve started telling jokes again on the regular. I’m writing. I’m auditioning (to no avail, but still…)
I’m trying my best. Why does my best never seem good enough? Maybe it’s because it’s the holidays & everything is supposed to be perfect. I’m far from perfect. I always will be.
I want my new friend to think I’m close to it. I’m trying my best to trick him.
He’s smart, though. The smart ones are tough to pull the wool over their eyes. He’ll find out what I really am soon enough. Maybe he already knows. Maybe you all already know.