Having a tough time getting myself to journal lately.
I have been dosing myself with the semi-truth of Covid Stole My Creativity. But I know that narrative is only partially true.
Sure, Covid did reveal to me that I am constantly busy and trying to do things to be creative. But the stasis has also reminded me of all the time I've spent saddled with depression or doubt or IBS or laziness or booze. I mean, I've been in LA for 6 years and fucked around with a lot of different things.
But what's the plan? Keep writing? I mean, sure. But like, how am I supposed to actually grab ahold of this place like everyone always says too. It feels like every time I put myself out there confidently, I'm being rude and I get bit. When I'm too subtle or hold back, I miss opportunities and age.
I don't know, I guess my anti-depressant has made me feel more okay about my daily joys or lack thereof. And I'm in a really strong relationship. I'm not (SUPER) low on money. I'm more active than I have been in years through skateboarding. I have a better apartment for a more amazing price in a more stellar location than I could've pictured having before.
I guess I still feel kind of dumb for where I'm at. But I feel better about it. I know things haven't been a waste. Most of them.
But sometimes I feel like I could've done better or explored more or relaxed more or had more fun.
Okay, trying to chill now. Having a reasonable amount of wine. Texting my girlfriend because she thinks I'm cute. Shaved a little of my hair off in the shower for the fuck of it. Am sitting shirtless as I type this. Am looking forward for COVID continuing to shrink.
I wanna be wasted and having a blast in a pool by the end of the summer.
PEACE / LOVE / CABERNET
