I’m riding my life, not driving it.
Where do I get a license to drive my life? Do I pay a fee, is it painful, is it exhilarating, will there be help, is there a permit, do I drive with an experienced driver for a while first?
Fuck, I just feel so fucked. Fucking injured. Fucking exhausted. Fucking wasted. Fucking mortified. Fucking loser. How is that you continue to fuck everything up? How is it that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face? Idiot. Imbecile. You think your some kind of rock star? You think you deserve love? Ha! You’ve created this, like the water wears away the earth, you’ve trained yourself, your in this fucked up groove and its all your fucking fault. All of it, it’s all yours, your pretty, ugly on the inside mind needs to find it’s own fucking way out of that muck.
You continue to think that someone else is going to bring you happiness, peace, and what, love? No wonder you’re here in this hole. Don’t you thrive on it? Don’t you enjoy the drama? You create it yourself, for fucks sake. For fucks sake. Yeah, you hear his words in your head? Can’t turn it off? Can’t make it go away and you can’t make it out, isn’t this where you design what you want to be said, you make some kind of sense out of it. It’s fiction. Fuck. You’ve got it all made up. You’re not fucking unique. You’re not fucking special.
Yeah, go out, go out tonight, get drunk, and get in some trouble. You don’t need to deal with that shit. Do it tomorrow. Yeah, and you’ll say the same fucking thing tomorrow. Just put it off; just let it go one more day. When will you start? When will you get it? This is it. You’re just letting the time wash over you. What the hell are you waiting for? Look I know you’re the queen of fucking procrastination, but, fuck, look yourself in the eye. You wouldn’t even date you. Wake up. Fuck Ruth, leave your history behind and start living right now.
Fucked becomes the norm. We get comfortable with it. We don’t even know what fucked is anymore because it’s everyday. It’s all I know.
And of course I’ve got amazing fucking friends, amazing friendships, amazing family, but how can you truly enjoy all that shit with this fucking monkey on your back. This boulder that you’re trying to pretend isn’t heavy at all. What? It’s just a fucking boulder that wieghs 2,240 pounds. And your so fucking attached to that rock, to that past, that you don’t even know what life is without carrying around that shit. You’re worried that you’ll just fuck it all up again. You’ll just ruin it. So, you just run.
I have been running for too long. It’s time to stop.
But first, I think it’s time for a drink.
