1/26/22 -- one month down (stream of consciousness)

the scene: hanging out on my fluffy white comforter, listening to orbital's halcyon (on and on) while the cat meows

wearing: a pink tank top with lace trim, multicolored heart print pajama bottoms

accessories: a long-spiked choker, a clip-on septum piercing

eating: nothing

drinking: a now-lukewarm snapple, mango madness

my only new year's resolution is to be kind to myself. everything else will follow. but how do you be kind to yourself when your inner voice is mean as fuck? i'm learning.

february, march... april--my birth month. i'll be 27 this year, and that scares the shit out of me. not because i fear being old. it's because my twenties are more than half gone and i've never lived alone (except when i was in college) and i don't know how to drive and at this point, i'm afraid to even ask. there's so much shit i don't know because i'm crippled by anxiety and/or disinterested in everything in general. it's a living, but it isn't a life. 

when will my life begin? i've been a legal adult for nearly 9 years, a cognitive adult probably for less than a year, but i've never felt like my life was really MY OWN. i never felt like the oft-mentioned in the mormon church 'free agency' really applied to me. i mean, of course: 'whateva, i do what i want', but everything good bad or indifferent feels like a waste of my oxygen right now.

the best way to win the game is to 'not play'.