it’s weird, and i can’t quite pinpoint the cause of it, but i am tired all the time lately. yesterday, i passed out on the subway home. i don’t even remember being that sleepy but maybe i shouldn’t have done laundry so late at night? i just don’t know, really. i just kept dropping my book and nodding off all the way from about copley to griggs st. it was unfortunate but i felt fucking wasted. groggy as hell. groggy all day, actually. and cranky to boot. up and down and up and down and plop. and moderate perk uppage for birthday dinner celebration/romp through somerville with scooter. i couldn’t really muster up too much enthusiasm, though. then again, it’s my own fault. or something. i’ve been on quite a bit of a downer the last week or so. the fam damily, i suspect. or something. fuck, i don’t know. i really don’t know. i don’t. no, whatever…maybe. i think too much, i analyze and scrutinize and everything-else-ize until it makes me nauseous and my head spin. throb throb throb…nothing ever comes of it. every little thing gets on my fucking nerves, until i’m sure i’ll start screaming and…screaming and…screaming…and…screamingscreamingscreamingscreaming…and just. not. stop. i suppose it’s a good thing i’m feeling ok enough to smoke again, because i need something for a little equilibrium. i’m not even sure that drinking helps anymore. because it doesn’t shut my brain off. and i’m sorry, but me and that fucker got beef. when i need it, when things are really dire, it fuckin’ cashes out. but when i’m just trying to have a little peace and tranquility and not go off the fuckin’ edge, it won’t shut the fuck up. everything is glaringly highlighted and repeated and outlined and spotlighted and everything else that makes me second-guess, question, doubt, lament, regret, spazz over and obsess. i don’t fucking know what it is. i’m far too self-indulgent i suppose. i need to turn my brain off. i need something. i don’t know. fuck. really, i may just wander home and try to climb the roof of some building — i wonder if we’re allowed on our building roof — and just scream. either that or i’m going to knock back a few shots and get in a brawl with a tree again. i’m revved for a fight of some sorts. and i don’t know what. all this fucking expendable energy. not good enough, not fast enough, not smart enough, not enough not enough not enough not enough…
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