There’s beer and some music, but for the life of me, I can’t write a word even though it needs to happen above all else because if it doesn’t, my insides will turn black and rot away to dust. Almost fell asleep earlier. I closed my eyes and could feel myself drifting, but then I felt guilty about this and that and just laid there looking up at the ceiling thinking about all those rogue planets that are shooting around the universe as if it were no big deal. And then I thought about all the dinosaurs that died when that asteroid came calling without so much as an introduction and how now we have only their bones to tell us their stories. And then there’s the video I found on an old phone of X. We were drunk and pissing about when it was recorded. Nothing raunchy, just words and laughter and silliness someplace that exists outside of timeless time. A slice of magic that could so easily have been lost. Amidst the contrasting imagery dancing around my skull, I tried shutting down and being quiet but the mocking call of the night only exacerbated my fluctuating state of mind. Maybe I’ll take a week off. Or how about a month? No writing, no words. No introspection and none of the picking and picking and picking that goes with it. Self-expression and the search for answers, they make me and break me in equal measure. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I remember a time from before. A time when there was some sense of comfort and love and none of this shit that keeps me up as it does now. To just go back to how things were. To exist without the need to question my nature. This is what I desire more than anything. To be content and to belong. And yet such peace of mind turns people into deadheads. Happiness sedates– I wrote this a while ago, and I stand by it just as much now as I did back then, because those who are happy rarely have anything of interest to say, and their secrets are as uninspiring as their choice of lovers. So here’s to another crisis of confidence to add to all the others. Another capitulation when no one else is looking and with no scars to show for it except for these words that pass out of me like glass.