I often feel like simply giving in and letting myself slide away from sanity, sidle up to that seductive hidey hole and crawl in to die.
This feels like the best course at the worst of times, and a pleasant diversion at the best.
Thus far I can see little reason not to, save that no one else seems to feel the same.
The last thing I need is another reason to be abnormal.
Or maybe the last thing I need is to worry about it.
I venture outside to find a flock of stoners toshing about. I have mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand, I long to be as they are, ignorant of the greater questions, and giggling incoherently at some slapstick Hollywood tripe.
On the other, I despise them for the ease of their existence. I always told myself I would be above them, smarter, more successful, and now I find myself on the verge of dropping down to their pace, following the path of mental exsanguination at a job I loathe simply to stay afloat.
I know I could do better, I know I could have done better, but I can't drag myself from the comforting warmth of apathy and laze.
The work isn't what is killing me, nor the effort. It's the temptation to be less than I want battling the urge to do more than just be.
And now the only thing keeping me afloat *unfortunately, away from restful solace at that* is the blinking black bar on what I find to be one of my few useful respites.
Perhaps I'll slip into something more comfortable.
