the life you wish you lived.

tuesday night, april 2019

i quit my job two months ago. my days are my own. my hours my minutes, the whole thing. the whole enchilada.

what does this mean? it means my house is a whole lot cleaner than it used to be. it means that midday i'm organizing the teabags. i've always known that spaces were important but i never knew how much they could torture you - i'm spending all my time on frivolous shit because i "can't focus" when even a single thing is out of its place.

i quit my job what does this mean? it means i'm drunk driving regularly. like once a week. rolling down the windows and turning on frank ocean and pretending everything's okay. that i'm okay, that a piece of gum is enough.

i'm living the life you wish you lived. i'm going to the skatepark in the middle of the day. except there's a fucking kid at the skatepark who's like 15 and shredding and i'm totally unnerved and i'm wearing $159 headphones and i feel like so much of a tool that i get back into my truck after 15 minutes and drive home.

i thought i would be having sex, i thought i would be in yosemite. instead i'm a massive list of books unread, i'm masturbating constantly, i'm unable to find the time. i'm working out but why. honestly why. about to move six times in six months, anxiously scanning the credit card statements.

come to my barn rave it's going to be amazing. i quit my job and i don't know why. i'm so afraid of the things i've promised myself, i know i can't deliver.

atm1