Sit down. Get shit done. Some point I get sidetracked. A thought. A video. A poison arrow word stuck right in my heart. Little triggers get me thinking about things.
You ever get like that? Just start thinking about shit? About the depths of space you’ll never reach. All the planets you’ll never explore. How you sentenced your kid to death at “fuck baby, I’m cumming!”
Next thing you know you spiral out of control. A slingshot rock flying forward stuck in place. World all flip-de-flop. Drowning in bourbon and dark thoughts.
What. The. Fuck.
And you feel lost. And alone. And your heart and mind fuze together at their blackest point. Wrap their spiny thorns around your soul. Crush you under the gravity of the truth behind existence.
And all you want to do is bury your face in the couch and cry because, at least your tears let you embrace this fucked up thing you can’t explain.
I don’t have answers. Booze, yes. People so fast to share their answer key. Like feelings mean nothing. Brush off darkness like dandruff from their “spiritually free” tee. Well I don’t have answers.
But I want you to know, I feel you. Nobody understands. There’s some seriously fucked up parts of life. Bad shit. I feel you.