I was in transition mode from awake to not awake enough to satisfy my brain by getting out of bed to write the genius arrangements of words swirling in my mind. So, of course, I can’t remember a word of what I should have written down and then it occurs to me. Why can’t we invent a device that records our thoughts? Why can’t I strap something around my head and it wirelessly sends all my thoughts and moods to a related software program and then, the next day, I can reflect, or commit myself. It could sway either way, really. Then, when I have a stroke of genius at 2 in the morning, I won’t have to get up from my comfy bed and I won’t have to reach for a way to record my thoughts. Because honestly, my typing skills are crap and when my brain gets going, my fingers can not keep pace. This device would need to write at the same pace and also record other random thoughts and file them accordingly.

So onto the thoughts. Yesterday was a bad day and today isn’t really that much better. I’m depressed. Like don’t want to do shit depressed. I’m complacent, lack empathy, struggle to eat, struggle to enjoy stuff. It’s manic depressive behavior. I’m not like this all the time. Just ever so often. It’s enough to request a room for one. Padded, please. I don’t like it. I like to be a productive individual. Do things.

I talk to my friend yesterday and tell her I want to quit school. It is too much. Maybe what I said got to her because she dropped her current class. Well, crap. I don’t like to quit. But it’s easy. Just make a phone call, or don’t show up. Sorta run away from all the problems. Just look at life and say fuck it. I’ve done it a lot. In fact, I used to make a habit out of it. Well, I like to think I’ve moved past that ridiculous part of myself, but I think some habits are hard to extinguish because they are disguised. They are actually personality traits and you can’t break them. You can only hope to change them. So here I am, writing these thoughts, hoping to change myself.

I laid in bed last night and thought of how easy it was to quit and how much free time I would have to work and play. I started justifying all the reasons to quit. It was just a degree. Some piece of paper that said I was eligible to make more money at some job that would probably suck, all so I can buy things I didn’t need. That’s all life really is, right? Pushing yourself to the brink of insanity so you can buy a house, a new car, new clothes, and then live to the point of … of what? You work, pay taxes, and struggle. For what? So you can take all the crap you bought, with all the extra money you made, to a place where you’ll use it? You can’t. You’ll be dead. So what is all this for? The burning question. It brings me back to quitting. Should I quit? Well, no. The answer is no. I’m not going to pursue something so I can make more money to buy shit I don’t need, to impress people I don’t give a shit about. This is not the reason.

I’ve never done something profound for anyone else. Call me narcissistic, but I’ve only ever pushed myself to the brink of insanity for myself. To prove I could do it. So when I’m old, I can tell stories. I can tell stories about all those times when I wanted to say Screw This!, but didn’t. I will push forward for the one person I will meet later in life. They will need me. They will need someone who has struggled, who has been at the brink of throwing it all away, the brink of insanity. They will need someone to tell them a story about how life isn’t worth it. Don’t even try. I will put my face in my shaking palms and rub my temples and wonder why I even try. That person will mimic me and think the same thing. Think that the story is over. This person gave up, so will I. Then I will take my face from my palms. I will look at them in their weary eyes and speak a magic word. But. They will look at me with deep question. Knowing for sure the story was over, but suddenly, it isn’t. I will say, I wanted to give up, but I didn’t. I will finish my story of a life nearly defeated and instead of throwing it all away, I didn’t. This is why you don’t give up. You don’t accept defeat. Don’t do something because everyone else thinks you should or you do it because of false reasons. Do it for yourself. Do it to prove you can. So when a person who is down and defeated can hear your story and develop a story all their own. A story of struggle, but a story of success.

Life can suck. Can suck your energy, your soul, and you will have nothing left. Don’t let it. Just kick life in the face and say not today. I’ll try and remember my words as my depression tries to take hold. But I won’t accept defeat. Not today.

I also remembered all the thoughts in my head from last night. I just needed to start writing. No device needed. But if someone invents it, I’d like royalties or at least a magazine spot.


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