It’s hard to do things.

My head sometimes feels full of ideas, and if I don’t keep in practice with getting them out in any kind of way, be it organized or not, all of them burn up and disappear. When I manage to write and run and clean my kitchen, that all throws a log on the fire, or at least some kindling.

I don’t have a candle, but it burns at both ends when it burns. It’s more stupid than a candle, though. I feel like a candle that burns on both ends is something some Irish hippie has who lives on the beach and does a lot of acid. I’m a sober Irish American white person so I have like, a train that’s on fire at both ends, still going, and I’m in the middle going ‘what do i wish to accomplish here’ and then I curl up under my weighted blanket and sigh.

There, you see? I barely did anything and I still wrote something. I still went to the gym tonight.

I hate going to the gym during the day cuz it’s full of muscle dudes who throw the weights down and grunt and kind of move autonomous of one another yet still somehow give off a swarm vibe. At 2am not only are they rarely present, but I’m not always asleep, and it’s nice to replace ‘watch mindless tv and twitch now and then’ with ‘exercise’ even if it’s not the healthiest way I could be doing this healthy thing. 

I think I thought sobriety would be really pure and delicate. Maybe someday it will be. 

It’s weird. When I had three months, that was a lot. Now I’m coming up on three years and trust me: I’m still a newcomer. I’m still a hot mess. Just this time, I’m at the gym.