Drunk Rant: I'm Tired
I’m old enough not to identify as a kid anymore. College ran out, and I guess, so did hope.
Just a few years ago, having dreams of making it big, with a big car, big house, fame and fortune was not chance, but eventuality. I should’ve achieved so much more than what I have today.
The musician in me died a slow painful death. So did the writer. The photographer just peeked through the phone camera and when I saw a nice little sunset.
I’m getting older now. Likes on instagram don’t mean shit, I realize, but damn they feel good. In a shit shit life, where my so called life plan has derailed and landed in the river below, an extra candy crush life, a new pokemon, a couple of likes on social media, is somehow all that’s left to cheer me up after I come back home from a gruelling day, with a broken body and another piece of my dream dead.
Still on the right side of twenty, why does it have to feel like I’ve missed the bus? I’ve got my whole life infront of me. Unless ofcourse, the bus just ran me over.
Adulting is just as sucky as you’ve been told by your drunk bitter uncle. “EVERYTHING TURNS TO SHIT, KID!!!!!” He’d say smelling of cheap gin, just follow it up with, “NOW BLOW OFF THE CANDLES! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU”
It’s so hard to be enthusiastic about plans. Any plans. Just let me stay home for a day, man. My boss makes me work Saturdays too. Gimme my Sunday, I need my fucking sleep.
Fuck you guys and your perfect relationships that have run for years. Here I am unable to commit to a morning routine of taking a bath.
My words have gone bitter, it seems. Friendships that end now, tend to stay ended. No evening group meetings, where you’d eventually forget your differences just to join the conversation and have a laugh.
Relationships don’t come naturally either. You either just fuck, or just love, somehow, because you know, one will fuck up the other.
As for the past relationships, exes just keep getting hotter, and I just keep descending down the leagues. Fuck. This shit isn’t working out. Gain weight and get ugly, motherfucker!
As sorted as I may seem to a few delinquents, I am breaking piece by piece everyday, losing what I was and once wanted to be.
I don't even come close to the league of the vision of me I had five years ago about me five years in the future.
The embodiment of an existential crisis, I am utterly exhausted trying to run behind the fantastical future I promised myself to have.
From fly to glide to sail to run to walk to crawl to almost buried; I'm short on temperament and the energy to keep moving.
Fuck this job, fuck my dreams, fuck this career they hold infront of me like a carrot.
I’m gonna barf, and then I’m gonna sleep like a baby in my own barf, thank you.