I’m back from Chicago, and I just realized what I was doing: delaying a major tantrum. On the bus I was looking forward to getting back into my own life, finding a job, marketing my CD, recording music, trying to make friends, etc. It didn’t take long for that to die.
I despise everything around me. My environment is filled with reminders of failures or far-fetched fantasy (such as the fantasy of a life outside of the working-class nickel-and-dime world I was raised to be a part of.) My head wanders into these places and I can’t stop it and it scares me.  I was weaving in and out of traffic tonight at 45 mph down Franklin before punching a big crack into my windsheild. There’s something wrong with me and I thought a couple of days taking a break would fix it, but no.
Now I don’t know what to do. I won’t be able to sleep. I don’t want to go walk around. Fuck it. What does it matter. The fact that I think I have any control over anything is part of the problem. Let things be and if the darkness swallows me then that’s my lot in life. Either way, I need to be done worrying for myself. I wish I could convince myself of this so I would know where to go.