And yet I lay in bed with the curtain mostly closed.
I tried to get to the farmers’ market but as usual the fixing fucking streetcar never came, despite supposedly being two minutes away. So I just quit and went to the shit big box grocer’s.
The stress of waiting for a streetcar that seems it may never come seems a fitting analogy. You can make make the effort, do the thing you don’t really want to do cause you know it’s probably best, but other bullshit can and often will just get in your way and prevent you from accomplishing what you set out to do.
Same goes for health. I don’t know what it was but for some reason I’ve had nearly a week of harder stool despite following basically all protocol to prevent them. Fucking hemorrhoids feeling worse than ever and after talking to the doctor it seems they’re a most likely contributing factor in the fissures (if you don’t know what that it, pray you never do. Been described as worse than a double-mastectomy cancer, adult male circumcision and being shot, among others).
The honeymoon phase with mixology is over. Everything I do is by and for myself and it’s fucking depression. Plus I wonder if it affected the old BM’s…though three days without a drink has changed nothing. That friend who continues to ask but doesn’t really seem to care how I’m doing is visiting in four days. I wonder if she will just talk about herself the entire time like the last few times we’ve interacted. I’d planned on bringing it up if it happens again, but I’ve changed; I now want to use it to drive a wedge between us so that if/when I exit this life she might be less affected. What a horrible change to feel.
In other news, I’m leaving my job in September. Don’t know what’s coming next – lots I could and would like to do but getting fulfilling work is impossible – but it’s crap and hard on my body. Given how many things I feel I’d need to sort out beforehand, maybe my subconscious is directing me towards my exit..?