Member-only story
Don’t Forget To Live
Living is the only sh!t worth writing about.
I have this bad tendency to take everything to the extreme. I can’t help myself. My first reaction to everything is to jump into the proverbial deep end and start swimming.
Even if I don’t know or understand the fundamentals of the backstroke.
It’s just how I am wired.
It didn’t bode well as a drinker. Or as a recreational pot smoker. I figured if I was going to do it, I was going to go balls to the wall.
Hence, a few lost decades to cases of beer and wasted money buying half-ounce bags of marijuana from unsavory individuals.
I turn into a horse with blinders on. Laser sharp focus, even if it means imminent destruction.
Up until about a week ago, I have been religiously practicing my vocation. I am showing up even when my brain does not want to write. Nothing has stopped me. I forgo friends and family.
My mission, if I choose to accept it, is to have a strong writing voice. This tape, along with everything else, will self-destruct in 5 seconds.
I stopped being attentive to things around the house. A layer of dust and dog hair has covered almost every corner.
