i don't like who i am. i have no artistic outlets anymore. i dull my unease with pot and cigarettes. i come home and wait for him, we kiss, he disappears for hours. i have no hobbies, not even reading. i can't remember the last time i wrote for myself. i can't remember the last time i laughed with someone i could call a dear friend. i can't remember the last time i thought "hey, i like me."
which is why something has to change.
change is so hard. the need for it always sneaks up on me. i wait so long to feel differently, for that itch to go away, that by the time i try to initiate change i'm already batshit crazy and depressed. then i freeze, terrified, willing to accept my own unhappiness because i'm not sure i can live any other way. i've always been afraid to try.
i'm not sure what to do at this point. in the past i've always had a team to rally around me--people close by, a cheering section i could regularly access. but i am finding myself to be all alone, and self-dependency is a concept i am utterly terrified to explore.
how's that for honesty?
thus, no more pot.
clearing the cobwebs.
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