Day 241. Everything seems to be calming down and getting back to normal. My desire to drink has diminished, which is a good thing for now. I really don’t want to drink if I’m not confident I’m in complete control of my faculties, and right now I’m not. Something’s off. I’m not enjoying my days anymore. My routines are annoying me. I want to do less after work than what I have been doing. I want to do less in the morning than what I have been doing. I want to focus on this upcoming fire season and the end of the current school year. I have a lot of projects to start this summer, and I hope they all go well. I’m almost done with the first draft of my novel, and that might have something to do with my recent bad mood.
I feel homeless. I don’t want to go back to California and I don’t want to live in Montana anymore. I’m hoping grad school pans out, but if it does, I won’t be going anywhere for over a year. That’ll be after I turn thirty years old. I’m twenty-nine in four days. My twenties will only survive for one more year and then they’re done forever. I can’t wait for my thirties; maybe they’ll be a better decade than my twenties were. I’ll be spending the last year of my twenties in Montana, and that just means I have to make the most of it, even if I might dislike it. It’s just the way it’s gotta be.
Most, if not all, of my best times and memories have been with friends. I miss those times.
The past few weeks worth of entries have been horrible. This has become a chore more than anything. That’s a lie. There have been a few entries where I was so grateful to be writing them because I just needed to get that stuff out. But other times, when all I want to do is go to sleep or watch some TV to relax right before falling asleep, I write bullshit. It’s all bullshit, and I really hate it. What if I never made this 365 day promise to myself? Would my life be that much different? What if I just stop? Would anybody care? Would anybody notice? I stopped posting these entries to Facebook almost two months ago, and nobody has said anything about it. And looking through my logs, it doesn’t seem like anybody has even cared to visit my site on their own. So I’m writing into some void with almost no one reading. So I could just stop and nobody would know…
I would know, though. This isn’t for them. This is for me. Even if this entry and other entries are bullshit, it doesn’t matter because I took out the time in my night to lay my fingers on my keyboard and start writing about my life. I’m showing up and doing the work, even when I don’t want to. That has to count for something, right?