The first of four days off is always the most optimistic. A small something gets done, another thing is put in its place. Half a hit of acid, 1 shaving accident and a conversation with my mother later I’m prepared for a night out with co-workers. She asks how I am, expresses condolences for Maya and updates me on my little sister. I did that thing where you think it’s normal skin but it’s the crest of a tendon on your left ankle and before you can stop there’s blood and an inch of skin lodged in your razor. I’m not quite stoned and just barely tripping enough to relax completely. They are supposed to show up around 9pm.

I like the bartender on this night. He makes me feel seen. According to the bathroom Steph loves Dyllon, but that’s not the most interesting piece of news on the wall. Be Nice or Leave is real and belongs here if anywhere. The Fraggles taught us that we are all the same no matter what color you are. It also reinforces the doozer caste system that is currently sustaining my oppressed existence. I’m going as Mama Trash Heap for Halloween. Stay tuned.

Only Casey showed up but that’s exactly how I’d choose it. I spent Thursday shutting down Belltown and went to 5-point for a sandwich before bed. The happiest of birthdays spent writing an article I’m proud of and dosing in Fremont. A little drop of water rolling downhill hitting targets and pop bumpers at will. Add-A-Ball is a giant frat house and I’m a sucker that falls for the senior class. The best I can hope for is a chance to hang out with the resident homosexual. Otherwise I’ll be used and discarded like the free condoms at a gay club, unremembered. Yoga is the only salvation if you don’t count the dozen or so people I’m happy to have met.

It feels like I have come back into myself after all this time. No chance to catch up since last December, I was continually stumbling toward the opportunity to process the things changing around me. Maya’s imminent demise looming and rent always due right after it’s been paid. The first blow was Blake, followed quickly by the tattoo problem. I’m the only one to blame for all the mistakes after that. I should have known better. Snakes are snakes and I don’t have any in my life at this point. No animals at all. Just me talking to myself every time I leave the apartment because I used to tell my pets I love them. No one there to receive my love anymore. Not sure where that energy is going now.

I’m facing a critical time where I could get what I want out of my professional life. I’m not aiming for the moon and even the stars are pretty far away but I feel good about taking the shot. The moon will be there when I’m ready. In the meantime I’m doing exactly what I set out to do 5 years ago. That’s some form of success. Getting my tattoo finished will be another one. There’s a chance I’ll find love again along the way but I’m not gonna stop and sniff any hydrants. Working for myself will make me secure. Happy is relative. I’m fine with who I am. Even the parts I wish weren’t there. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a stupid boy make me feel less than amazing. I’m the sun itself and they should feel lucky to spend time in me. I’m fucking hilarious.