It’s 5pm and work is all done, yet I am still at work.
I should be getting ready for the Giants game tonight, but I’m not.
I don’t even want to goto the game.
I want to float in an ocean and just drift away.
Or is that what I’m already doing.
blah, blah, blah; whine, whine, whine; cry, cry, cry; feel sorry for me, feel sorry for me, feel sorry for me…
Screw you feeling sorry for me, I wish I could feel sorry for me.
Anyway, I am off to find a drug to help me out of my depression.
Coffee? Sugar? Food? Chocolate? Cigarettes? Pot? Alcohol? Sex?
Which one will it be? I would have said Alcohol, but I have to drive home
tonight.
Maybe. I’ll just reach deep down and fake the happiness, fake the comrade, fake the love.
Just have to be able to recharge enough for Six Flags tomorrow.
Who knows; maybe getting knocked around on a roller coaster will shake up something inside of me…
…besides breakfast, of course.
