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I hate myself and I don’t know why

August 23rd, 2008

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.

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