I was in a good place for a brief time. A promise land. A place that allowed quite the opportunity to make something of myself. Poof it said on its way out the door.

I hadn’t been in a happy place for a long time, so I was understandably enthusiastic about it. My surrealistic enthusiasm has, over the course of 48 hours, transformed into realistic self-loath.

I rarely experiment with optimism, and rightfully so. The emotional hang-over caused by optimism and hope, that were previously of a prolonged absence, are rarely worth it. I would rather stick to my constant pessimism and at least have a glimpse of the inevitable cluster-fuck of a situation as it’s creeping towards me over the horizon.

I went and over-dosed on optimism.

People get screwed over all the time, if the determining factors are out of your control, one has no problem just moving on. But when you had even the lightest weight in how things happened, well then its straight to the emotional shit-can for you. I know I could have worked harder, even if it had pushed me over the edge into a state of oblivious insanity. I believe it would have been better than where I am now.

Because what is life if not a series of opportunities that you must grasp and work hard at. Its nothing. It’s what I have now. Something I have returned to after being relieved from for about a week and a half.
Like a vacation cut short.

I found something worth the investment. I’m not talking about school or a job or some habitat for humanity bullshit that takes any hippie shithead willing to attend with open arms. I’m saying something truly special. I know the investment was worth it, because the return was a guarantee of small dosages of happiness distributed over a long period of time.
This opportunity to me was a natural antidepressant.

I found a microscopic piece of my identity in the form of a hobby, that I could use to get through the tougher things in life, fall back on, and always enjoy being a part of.

Now I’m left with a friendship on the line, one which I’m swayed towards neglecting for fear of future resentment. Realistically, I shouldn’t blame myself, I should blame you. I wont, because I don’t believe you deserve it and I’m not that type of person.
But to be honest, I predict the type of person I am, isn’t long for this world.

I can feel myself loosing it. Slowly edging towards becoming a complete asshole, because its just safer and easier like that.
If I never invest emotionally, I cant get hurt. And fuck, am I tired of getting hurt.

The bolts in my mentality are loosened.
I’m unscrewed.

“I’m tired of screwing up, I’m tired of goin’ down
I’m tired of myself, I’m tired of this town” -Tom Petty

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