Perhaps the question is just, why do I continue to subject myself to torture when it comes to a fling such as the one on my mind right now? This is so irrational that I can't believe it. The constant up and go pace of my life from work to school, friends, constant city changes leaves me exhausted maybe more than I had realized in the past.
Then I fall into the emotional traps that kill me and haunt me when I turn the lights out. It just doesn't seem like me who is out there living life to the "fullest." I always feel like I'm putting on a show for one fuck or another. I am positive people would like me so much better if I wasn't always so strung out on sadness which most of the times is greatly exaggerated or quite possibly fabricated.
Maybe I take comfort in in, and I do have artistic surges and ideas of epic proportions when I'm down. Perhaps I'm in love with my sadness. I must be, if I was a bitch I would be the biggest drama queen. I miss Climax and Dan and Mike. I miss the unpredictability and potential of a day in the Nati. But maybe that was why shit hit the fan when I went psycho in Chi Town on the Saturday when I got back. I was just keeping myself distracted. But my gosh does it work.
It was painful, though when I was done being preoccupied. But for a while it was fun. At this moment all explanation escapes me. Waking up at 6:00 AM every weekday is gonna kill me, but I'm getting paid bitches.
1:28 AM 5/21/05