So I sit and I think. Maybe that's why I'm scared to be alone: the thoughts. And at some point, I stopped thinking because I realized that what I was really thinking was that I'm sitting here thinking because my actions got me here. Hello maturity!- (I think she just slapped me in the face.)
And as I walked on this slope of thought, I continued to descend into rooms of self-pity and regret and confusion, through a hallway of anger and out the back door of self-loathing. I thought about those who were once a part of my daily bread, and now, they remain a distant memory (both parties to blame.) Where were they and who were they with? What were they doing and who are they now? And as my mind moved slowly from names and faces, I got real sad. It wasn't until I thought about who I was and what I was doing, that I began to cry. Which is how I got led right back around to thinking.
Maybe maturity-with all her security and solace while paradoxically ensuing anxiety from harsh reality and brutal acceptance- calmed me down. Like I was losing my mind, all I could do then was laugh. By way of human condition, I've got my good shoes on. I'm ready to go now.