Why do I waste time doing things I particularly do not like doing? I have squandered four months of my life setting up an apartment that was granted almost free and all I can think is: So what?
I exist in paranoid fear of long, dark nights and sun blasted days of waiting.
Most of my money has been for rent and buying furniture - no socializing, drinking, craziness. I sit in my contemperarily furnished tomb and I wait for the next check to buy something.
My body has started to soften - flabby, jiggly blobs of time wasting flesh forming around my abdomen. Memories are distant, fuzzy halucinations in my numbed brain. I see no one - talk with no one. My money spent on a life of comfort and luxury. Alone.
This is fucking worse than when I was on the road!!
2 comments:
Sounds dire.
christ jesus, do we really have to go through this shit every time you put down roots?
as has been well established, you're an outside cat, not an inside cat--deal with it and stfu already.
[and while you're at it, steal into your local borders, curl up in a corner with a copy of tim ferriss' "four hour workweek" and discover how you can have your cake and eat it too--it's long past time you should be traveling the world, writing about your experiences and getting paid for it.]
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