This is boring.
A few days ago, I felt an overwhelming urge to run home while pumping gas. I was standing there, murmuring to myself to get through it and just go home and stay there. For the past year or so, save the three or four times I mustered up the courage to do something for myself, that’s precisely what I’ve done. My fear of facing people or doing anything that benefits me seems overbearing until I’m actually doing it. I’m able to appreciate anything in the moment, but the anticipation leading up to something is overwhelming for me, then when it ends, I don’t feel like I have the ability to appreciate it. So I just don’t. I just sit. I sit and I wait for something to happen, and when nothing does, I continue the process.
I have a ticket for a show sitting on my desk for a show on January 29 (my birthday). It’s for Never Not Funny, which is probably my favorite podcast hosted by one of my favorite comedians. I couldn’t give a fuck about any of that because I’m convinced I’ll go to it, have a terrible time, alienate everyone, and have to drive home in shame afterward.
So, yeah, fuck that.
