FEBUARY FOURTH TWENTY TWENTY-FOUR

All in all a good month. As far as abstaining goes, I did about as well as I could without it being considered perfect. Most of the endeaver was to make some new habits and I do believe that they'll stick. Ive been doing them for a month now.
One of them being stretching in the morning before work and in the afternoon before bed. It has been nice turning off my computers and sitting in silence for ten minutes. Sometimes your mind races though and it makes focusing on the quiet difficult.

A byproduct of taking all social media and Youtube off my phone, reducing screen time. Going for walks every day. Going to bed on time without my phone. Waking up early...
has been a quieting of my thoughts. I would say my everyday stress levels might be higher. But most days I feel at peace and more than just that overcast content-ness that is most days.
I hope I can hold onto this smoldering joy for as long as possible. It reminds me of when drugs convinced me that existing was enough to be happy. Your own little acid buddha.
A franticism comes over me like some anxiety. Impulsiveness and a fickel attention span are symptoms of this break from the peace I am fond of.

My old roommate, come to find out we have been friends for ten years now. Lived with him for six? maybe seven? years. He has been a source of strife lately. The only one that breaks this serendipity I have been blessed with.
It is not unlike him. Brash, brutish, half-baked, and confident. Younger when I was farther away from knowing what I wanted in life, I enjoyed the chaotic and flippant lifestyle.
It has been seventeen months since I moved out. And as of writing this he has me blocked. My fault. Not that fault admits some insideous or hurtful actions.
We had never judged each other. Any loud half thoughts were forgotten in the blurry hungover mornings. A willingness to just get along. Effort was a resource better used on opening wine bottles.
I say we had because I am being the judgemental dick now. I don't want to hear your yelling about shitting US politics anymore. I would much rather do anything else than that.
I'm just tired. Tired like you get eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches days in for months.
I used to care, too. If caring means I do nothing but freak the fuck out all the time.

Another week come and gone. Next week I should have a song to share.




Thank you,
Weebfkr