Shameless And Sleepy

I still have little monkey thoughts in my brain. I often wonder about my future: we have to consider the path of torment I so often subject myself to. Things are already pretty hard being mentally ill. I make it even more treacherous by ruining my chances of success. I chose to evict my loneliness with companionship instead of learning how to stand by myself. It’s just so damn tasty at first. Love can be like a warm muffin in the beginning. But this variety of emotion doesn’t have much else going for it. Pretty soon, all that’s left is that annoying paper cup where once there used to be wholesome goodness. My time here has been short. I was willing to keep the muffin pants and go forward having no more to eat. But alas, if the muffin is gone, the joy is sucked right out of the everything and no one eats the pants.

My analogies are a tad strange. But I think you get my point. What I’ve been doing is avoiding eating my muffin. I don’t want the muffin. I put it into the refrigerator (intact) and have no intention of eating it. Not sure where this is headed. Point being: anyone can just eat the muffin. That’s the fun part. But what then? What drives sustainability of the thing worth keeping has lost all its value? I don’t want this to happen to me, as I have grown fat on muffins and know better than to keep buying a new one when the old one is gone.

Blog, I have confidence. Not a whole lot can really dig at me. I’ve got no part of my life that can’t be managed by me. I have no circumstance which could decide my fate, then being vastly out of my control. In the inevitable act of comparison, I have no desire to replicate the lives or actions of my exes, and I don’t look at them and say: “hot damn, I wish I was doing that.” In short, what I have is just what I want, and nothing less. Did I screw up? Sure, I mean, don’t we all at some point? But did I go from living a life that didn’t work, to then living a similar life expecting a new outcome? Isn’t that a really dumb thing to expect?

I think it’s foolish to hope that life moves on. Life doesn’t do anything for anyone. It constitutes a stage where events take place. It doesn’t know how to adjust, WE adjust, and WE dictate the outcomes. No one is going to take the responsibility away from you. It’s yours, whether you choose to own it or not. Life goes on, much like the oven where my metaphorical muffin is baking.

Do I find it hard to imagine anyone else being at fault for my mood, my life’s events (at least, at this juncture)? I did the very thing I set out to do, and I didn’t go back on my words and edit them to fit my choice; I proceeded with the intention of following through with what I had originally said. I can now look in the mirror and know I didn’t lie, cheat, mislead, or hurt anyone getting my muffin baked. I told you all I was going to bake a muffin and so I did. And I don’t have to eat it. I can save it forever, as a tangible sign of the physical achievement of my success (and baking skill).

And I’ve made good decisions for my long-term health and stability. On that front: I’ve also been weeks without pot, something I could have continued to do but declined for my own health and wellbeing. And now I will be giving up alcohol. And to follow the parade of sacrifices; I have resolved to stop drinking coffee. Frankly, good coffee is an unnecessary expense, and my kitchen is all about efficiency.

Like I said at the start: this is all a big mess of monkey thoughts. But it’s my blog and I’ll natter on about whatever I want. But now I’m kinda hungry…