A Routine Determines Who We Are
Let’s just say I didn’t wake up in the best of moods today. Not because of the night terror, but because of the fact that I still have a long way to go before I could say I’ve accomplished what I’m trying to do here. I feel that dream is a reflection of what I’m currently feeling right now.
On my way to work I was overwhelmed with this craving to use and I’m not quite sure what it is that triggers those reactions. I’ve been rarely getting a good nights rest because of two things: one of my roommates doesn’t shower too often so it gets hot whenever I leave the window open to ventilate the room from his musk; and then my other roommate just spends the entire night snoring louder than fuck.
It’s kind of agitating because there doesn’t seem to be a break from both these guys. It’s either I’m walking into a room with a scent I could barely describe or the other one is snoring in his sleep and when he’s awake, he’s yelling throughout the whole entire house complaining about how much the house we live in sucks.
It’s not the house that sucks, it’s his attitude. Him and the other idiot who doesn’t shower everyday. I swear, this kid spends all night long playing Xbox and when it’s time to go to work, he allows his alarm to perpetually snooze and then he just gets up from his bed and goes to work. No shower. No brushing his teeth. Not even breakfast(he doesn’t even eat well). I swear, if that’s not depression, then I don’t know what you’d call it. An idiocracy is what I’d call it, occupied by both my roommates.
I know I’m not perfect— but at least I don’t snore, at least I wash my ass everyday. Jeez.
The bigger side of me is constantly contemplating why getting high isn’t the option. I could try living on the streets again while I try maintaining a job, but it’s only a matter of time before I lose that job and I’m begging to be admitted back into residential treatment centers for the season.
It’s not worth it. It’s such a waste of time. I’m tired of being around people who are anti social, addicted to drugs, and suffering from mental problems. I’m tired of dealing with people who are accustomed to hanging out in jails, institutions, or the streets. I’m begging for a better quality of life right now. As scary as success seems to me, nothing is going to convince me failing is the better option. I’ve tried failing, I’ve done it many times—and if I’m still not dead yet, then maybe it’s time I tried actually doing something with my life.
I’ve forgotten all my high school friends, people I’ve met back when I lived with my parents, people I’ve met in Colorado — I want a new start for cultivating my circle and I’m being really meticulous about it.
I finally managed to land a job that suits my needs. It’s close to home. It’s stress free. I actually see myself working there for a little while before moving on to something better— but most of all, it fits my schedule. Nothing is getting in the way right now and it took about a month for me to get to this point.
Rehab is a cake walk compared to what I’m trying to accomplish here. There was a time this month where I was waking up with this despair about the future, I thought I wouldn’t be able to get ahead in life— but thankfully I’m living in a house allowing me to figure shit out. Nobody is on top of what I’m doing, nobody is knocking on my door telling me I need to make my bed, and nobody gives a shit when I decide to stay in bed all day and binge on Netflix. It was a time to decompress. A time very much needed for my mental wellness and I’m happy at least, for the time being, that I’ve stayed sober and how I’m still living under a roof.
You know, to me, the holidays aren’t necessarily the best of times but it provides me with a window to reflect on what’s important to me.
I’m getting old. It’s time I sharpened up. I know I say it all the time but I forget and it’s important to remind myself. The only thing which currently feels right is maintaining my routine, waking up the next day, and rinse and repeat.
It’s not the house that sucks, it’s his attitude. Him and the other idiot who doesn’t shower everyday. I swear, this kid spends all night long playing Xbox and when it’s time to go to work, he allows his alarm to perpetually snooze and then he just gets up from his bed and goes to work. No shower. No brushing his teeth. Not even breakfast(he doesn’t even eat well). I swear, if that’s not depression, then I don’t know what you’d call it. An idiocracy is what I’d call it, occupied by both my roommates.
I know I’m not perfect— but at least I don’t snore, at least I wash my ass everyday. Jeez.
The bigger side of me is constantly contemplating why getting high isn’t the option. I could try living on the streets again while I try maintaining a job, but it’s only a matter of time before I lose that job and I’m begging to be admitted back into residential treatment centers for the season.
It’s not worth it. It’s such a waste of time. I’m tired of being around people who are anti social, addicted to drugs, and suffering from mental problems. I’m tired of dealing with people who are accustomed to hanging out in jails, institutions, or the streets. I’m begging for a better quality of life right now. As scary as success seems to me, nothing is going to convince me failing is the better option. I’ve tried failing, I’ve done it many times—and if I’m still not dead yet, then maybe it’s time I tried actually doing something with my life.
I’ve forgotten all my high school friends, people I’ve met back when I lived with my parents, people I’ve met in Colorado — I want a new start for cultivating my circle and I’m being really meticulous about it.
I finally managed to land a job that suits my needs. It’s close to home. It’s stress free. I actually see myself working there for a little while before moving on to something better— but most of all, it fits my schedule. Nothing is getting in the way right now and it took about a month for me to get to this point.
Rehab is a cake walk compared to what I’m trying to accomplish here. There was a time this month where I was waking up with this despair about the future, I thought I wouldn’t be able to get ahead in life— but thankfully I’m living in a house allowing me to figure shit out. Nobody is on top of what I’m doing, nobody is knocking on my door telling me I need to make my bed, and nobody gives a shit when I decide to stay in bed all day and binge on Netflix. It was a time to decompress. A time very much needed for my mental wellness and I’m happy at least, for the time being, that I’ve stayed sober and how I’m still living under a roof.
You know, to me, the holidays aren’t necessarily the best of times but it provides me with a window to reflect on what’s important to me.
I’m getting old. It’s time I sharpened up. I know I say it all the time but I forget and it’s important to remind myself. The only thing which currently feels right is maintaining my routine, waking up the next day, and rinse and repeat.
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