I am like a see-saw of baloney lately. One day I sit in my
shit-filled empire, and I look around, and I see the shiny jewels of
good that exist. Like, my dog. And I am alive. And I have a roof over
my head at least for a short time until things turn around.

But something is screwing with me, the stress, or the new medicine. I
haven’t eaten a thing today and I don’t want to anyways. And, the only
consistent thing that I can count on, are the tears. And they
have been running. Over and over and over again. I keep forgetting
stupid stuff like a senile old lady, and I have to sit here and weigh
the options. I can’t feel comfortable with my heart wrenching itself
free out of my chest. And I am not a stupid person, but I keep looking
like one every time I try to do something. Just stupid stuff, like
common sense. I forgot to feed the dog and all of my other
routines I’ve established are all messed up now because I keep
forgetting aspects of them.

I’m gonna be 28 in a few weeks. And I have nothing to show for any of
my time. But seemingly I have grown adept at telling stories that make
people happy they aren’t me. How’s that for a place in the wheel?