I decided to take a bath at 1 am this morning. With my now non existent sleep schedule, there’s no such thing as an appropriate time to do things. I attempted to make bubbles by pouring half of Courtney’s shampoo into the running water. It ended up just making a weird white foam on the surface. Thinking back now, Maybe I accidentally used conditioner? Who knows.
I did some thinking when I was in there. This past week I have been on my run of late shifts. My routine switches to the complete opposite of Courtney’s during this rotation. I pretty much don’t see her, or anyone else, at all. So my mornings usually consist of:
- wake up
- get coffee
- get smokes
- sit around for about an hour thinking about what I’m doing wrong with my life
- maybe have another coffee
- get redbull
- go to work
- come home
- video games
for seven days straight, that’s literally all I do.
no wonder I’m seeing a psychologist . What the fuck even is that? I’m not doing anything at all. Just pumping myself full of caffeine and nicotine in order to get through the boring shit, only to go home and lose myself in a fantasy land, and then sleep. Living it up baby!
I occasionally like to read up about philosophy, I guess I’ve been searching elsewhere for some kind of profound way of thinking that will just let me escape all the shit feelings I have towards myself and accept everything. As if some asshole from a thousand years ago is gonna tell me how to sleep better.
when I list my daily routine out like that, it doesn’t take a professional to see that right there is the fucking reason for it all.
im not even participating in my own life. I’m just floating through it. Waiting for those brief moments when Courtney gets home or when friends and family invite me out to let myself be alive.
i do a lot of thinking about self improvement, I do a lot of talking about it too, incase you haven’t already noticed. I make plans and come up with ideas, but then I do absolutely nothing about it. I just sit around doing more thinking and planning and asking myself the same old questions. Spending half my pay on crap and the other half on bills.
I let myself become some caffeine fuled robot that can’t even do anything that cool robots can do, like dance or shoot lasers. The ironic thing is that by writing this blog, I’m actually doing the thing that this blog is complaining about me doing too much. Does that make sense? It does to me anyway..
the lady at the servo where I get my coffee refers to me by my first name. Yea it makes for rad customer service, but Ive never introduced myself. She only knows it because she has to yell it out twice a fucking day.
this is my major malfunction. I make no effort towards actually being the person I want to be.
So I think I’ll start trying again.
Although it’s been that long, I may have forgotten what that word even means…
its when you squirt colours onto a rolled up shirt and then when it’s unrolled it looks all trippy and cool… yea?