We Got Nowhere to Go, We Got Nothing to Do

My sister is getting married next week. I hadn't really thought about it too much. It isn't like its a shock or anything, but its a milestone. Another step on the way to being an adult, one those older siblings start to wed. Next it will be children coming. Hopefully not soon.

I can't tell the difference between optimism and denial anymore. I tell myself that I'm still young and I have a lot of time to work my life out.

My brain is often so dead after returning from work. I don't realize it till I'm on the way home and wonder where I had lunch. I have to stop and really think. Then this vague memory of me eating at some place will start to return. I wonder if that was really today. I wonder, then I realize it was less than five hours ago and I notice that I haven't really allowed any memories to metastasize to my brain while I was in Carson.

Living has become rather hard. No, it has always been rather hard. I've just grown increasingly aware that I am not ready to subject myself to life being that hard. Really it shouldn't be. I don't particularly deserve a better life, but I should at least enjoy the ride.

Getting a girlfriend seems like a pretty good idea. I can't even imagine my life with a significant other in it. Not to say people in my life aren't significant, but I'm not sleeping with any of them. I see my roommate around his girlfriend and I have to stop and think about how strange it might be for me to have so much of my life spent with another person. Perhaps if I really wanted to be around them all the time it wouldn't be all that bad. But I can't remember ever wanting to be around someone all the time. Hell, if I could I would get the fuck away from myself as often as possible.

The light from my light casts a nice silhouette of me whenever I turn. I feel as though I am in a diamond commercial.

Last week I missed everyday of work. Granted it was a four day week, but I was out all four of those days. When I got back I handed my boss a note from my doctor that said "Matt was sick." It didn't say exactly that. She seemed sort of offended "I knew you were sick" she said, passing the note between her hands as though it were three hundred degrees. I should be apologizing for missing a week of work, you shouldn't be feeling guilty that I thought I should try to provide some sort of proof that I wasn't just playing darts at my friends house all week. Which I was.