I’ve been in a weird place lately. In my second year in Seattle, my health isn’t great. I need dental work and I’m broke. Although there are healthcare resources for the impoverished out there I've been too depressed to seek any out. I can’t seem to kick smoking, alcohol is definitely having an adverse effect on my mental state, I’m fantastically lonely, and I’m still stuck in this perfect storm of loving and hating myself simultaneously. I miss my mom.

When it really comes down to it, I don’t regret any of this. It’s a part of me. It just hurts sometimes.

New Years was awesome. I took molly with some close friends and literally started the year with a bang. But as much as I try, life can’t be a drug fueled fuck-fest with no job to get back to the next day. I’m missing years of my life. I’m fairly certain a good portion of my twenties were fun but I can’t seem to remember very much of it. It’s all catching up with me. I can feel it. I don’t know how else to be. It’s like I’m worthless if I’m not the life of the party. It’s the only time people really seem to like me.

But I’m trying, I really am. I’ve been doing some good stuff too. Playing in a band with one of my best friends has been healing. Who I am on stage is probably my favorite version of me, and I’ve been getting to do that a whole lot more lately. New inspiration has made it so this stupid fucking album that I’ve been working on for fucking ever may actually have a chance of getting done this year. I kind of like my job, and I have some new goals I’m working towards in the food service industry.

I’m lonely though. I’ve gotten really good at being alone. I go out alone all the time now, which was unheard of only two years ago. I do have some really good friends but the fact of the matter is they have their own lives, their own lovers, and as crazy as it sounds, waking up every day to an empty house, an empty bed, throwing together some old rice and withering vegetables in a pan with The Replacements playing in the background is losing it’s glamor. Loneliness is starting to swallow me whole and there are days I want to let it happen. So I drink, and I don’t feel anything. It’s nothing new. People have been drinking away loneliness for centuries. I just really get why now.

I’m going to be fine. I always am. I’ll be stoked the next time I see you and this contemplative morning rant will be a far off memory. Getting away from the toxicity of my home town has brought my sadness out of the shadows and it’s been a slow horrible pain in the ass to deal with but I’m dealing with it. I’m starting to really get that there is no such thing as figuring out your life. It’s a constant struggle. It’s the bags under my eyes, the gray hairs that keep cropping up on a weekly basis. It’s the last whisky soda before I go home I swear this time. It’s the one night stands and short lived relationships that end in pointless disaster. It’s fucking up royally and rebuilding your life again, one day at a time. So yeah when it really comes down to it, I don’t regret any of this. It’s a part of me.

It just hurts sometimes.