I've got a major body buzz after eating a *** brownie,
watching the X-files.

Happy bakesgiving.

Dinner is at 3:00.
My dog is napping beside me.
My house is warm, it's cold outside.

I don't know how to end this.
So, I'm going to smoke a cigarette and get ready to leave.

I had an epiphany
just now…
What if I did nothing
and don’t feel bad
about it?

My heart feels so full.
He said,
your thoughts about me carried me a long way. You helped more than you
know.
I can't describe how happy I am to know that I was able to help someone I love so much without even really knowing it.
My sweet Iowa.
I helped you, and you helped me.
it's what we do.
He is someone I will think about until my last day on earth and even after that.

I've still got that nervous pit in my stomach.
He invited me over to see his new place.
I went about an hour before I had to go to work.
My stomach was ******* in knots the whole way there.
I actually parked in the Walgreens parking lot just to give myself a minute.
Repeatedly out loud saying,
Oh my god, oh my God!
Finally I mustered the courage and drove to his house.
I waited a second to see if he would come outside but he didn't.
So I knocked.
He opened the door and said,
"Oh hi! Come in."
He began saying it was still a mess and hasn't fully unpacked.
Of course he looked so good.
Really tan from being outside all day, he was wearing a white cut off and basketball shorts.
I glanced around and said,
"How exciting! I like it."
Then I blurted out that I was nervous.
He said, "yeah it has been a long time since we've seen each other."
I first noticed the built in book shelf in the living room, newly painted white.
He didn't have a lamp so the only light was from a candle and the curtains being drawn a bit.
I sat across from him in a chair, he was on the couch.
He asked if I wanted to smoke even though I had to go to work,
and then he laughed a little and mentioned that he could finally teach me how to roll a joint.
We sat across from each other on the floor and he laid out the **** and some papers and began talking through it.
I was sort of successful, but I insisted we use his paper to smoke.
I was beginning to feel relaxed but time was running out.
We talked a bit about music and he showed me the rest of his house.
Then he asked me,
"Are you really gonna go to work?" And smiled.
I laughed and said, "yes."
He said alright and asked me to come back sometime and help him decorate his place.
I noticed the time and told him I had to go.
As he opened the front door he said,
"I wish you didn't have to leave."
I smiled and said, me either.
Outside he excitedly showed me the marijuana plants some one before him had planted and left behind.
He offered one to me if I wanted.
I just said, I'll think about it.
I began to walk away but turned around and said good bye.
He did too.
I got into my car feeling ******, and jittery.
I can't believe I was in his house.
I can't believe he wanted me to stay.
Then I drove to work as the sun was setting.

I am just a chapter in the lives of selfish men.
One that always comes to an end because
he took too much.
I run out, end up on empty..
I ran out of words, out of gas.

And no one is left to fill me back up.

Get a job,
and actually go.
Buy your own car,
and try to avoid asking for too much help.
But accept help when it's given.
Be driven, but be patient.
Sometimes good things do come to those who wait.
Even if you're 20 and have a baby,
accept that you are young,
it's okay if you don't have everything yet.
Stop spending all of your tax return
on tattoos.
Don't buy a house.
Only buy what you can really afford.
Failing doesn't make you a failure,
it's a chance to learn something.
Be kind.
Try to smile.
No one expects you to have all the answers.
Grow up, don't hurry up.

I no longer sleep at night.
I take long naps in the afternoon
that go into late hours.
I smoke cigarettes, watch Netflix,
and eat chicken noodle soup in bed.
It really messes up my opportunity
to get anything done during the day.
But somehow I still managed to get up
around noon to meet my dad in a bar
across town to give him the money
needed to pay for more oil to heat my house.
I always have messy hair,
and I try to stay in my black sweatpants as much as possible.
This is my life as a third shift employee.
It's not glamorous, more dysfunctional.

There's nothing like
the smell of a hazy spring evening in Ohio.

Watching the sun set into shades of sherbet ice-cream.

A lazy Sunday with perfect weather for open sun roof cruises.

Falling asleep feeling the soft, warm wind blowing through the curtains.

I drank a bottle of magnesium citrate almost 8 hours ago and now I’m at work really regretting it.

Heavy eyes from the wine,
and the little amount of sleep I've been running on.
It's been a long day.
Went to work at 6 a.m.
Went to Sally's with my sister.
Dyed my hair.
Got ****.
Went to the store.
Home.
Then to my brother's for a little bonfire.
And now I'm home watching Netflix.
I'm sure I'll fall asleep any second.
...
Zzzz

Try to remember what my therapist taught me.
Try to implement the techniques.

But truthfully the only solution to anxiety is action.
Results.
Solving the problem.

Otherwise the closet continues to get fuller, overflowing with thrift store jackets, Christmas decorations, and worry.
The life changing magic of tidying up also works on the brain.

I have tried to be okay
with being alone,
in this apartment,
for as long as I have.
But it's lonely.
I like company and conversation.
Someone to lay against.
And pull my hands away from my head.
From this hair.
This shredded mess
that I hate so dearly.
It feels like I am losing.
Or maybe, I've already lost.

I'm having trouble because I
want you to want to be with me.

For real.

Not just on a hot Thursday afternoon for a short hangout,
or sleep overs that lead to more then just sleeping.

I want you to want me when it's cold or raining and everything seems to be falling apart, but despite all the troubles life can bring at least you have me.

Recently I have found myself having trouble writing.
And feeling pleased with the outcome.

Someone told me to write what I believe is true, not what I want to hear.

Well I have been writing about you, mostly.
For years now.
And none of it was true.
But it was definitely what I wanted to hear.. from you.

So what do I believe is true?

...