The Hanging Tree

Oh to spend all day, 7 hours, writing a very short, short story. A worthless story at that. Is this what it mean to be a writer? Maybe even an artist?

No. It’s what it means to be a loser. Don’t delude yourself. Even the government thinks you aren’t worthy of picking up animals from the shittiest places on earth. You might as well have been told you aren’t good enough to be a trash collector. I mean no offense to the trash collectors. Clearly, they are better than him, which is still me, no matter how much objective narrative I throw at him. I can’t throw any offense anywhere. It’s like a Nazi calling someone evil. You really can’t care much.

I have no plan from here. A friend asked me, "So what’s the plan now?" After so many plans fell through, all I could think was, "I’m still supposed to have a plan?" I didn’t plan ahead fifteen plans. I didn’t know that was expected. I thought I was over planning. I thought my qualifications put me above what I prepared for. Turns out, even with my low self-esteem, I am even lower. I can’t even get the bottom feeding jobs right now. I have even return to a job recruitment company. Every week I lower my hourly way a dollar, because they tell me I’m not worth the amount I request. Does this help you nay-sayers out there, who have been reading and calling me a pessimistic little bitch? After 7 years, I am worth the same amount I was leaving college. Don’t tell me I’m being negative! I have an official company telling me I’m not worth more. I’ve done nothing with my life.

And I can feel my mind fading. My ability to think slip further every day. I feel dumber than 50% of my peers (and by peers I don’t mean friends, which one could argue is an unfair comparison, I mean people my age). I even spelled peers wrong originally. I probably have a short time before I’m completely worthless. Before I can’t even type these entries more than: "Me no good. Want more, You Have the more, Why me. I like you all. Please say love to me. I need the stuff there."

I gave up God today. Well, I gave up God long, long ago. But I gave up giving up whiskey for Lent today. Why I gave it up originally, who knows. But no way was I going to continue giving it up for a God that waits for me to create it after every fortune or misfortune. It’s just silly. So whiskey is now God. Has been God. Whatever. Let’s drink him/her/it.

Okay, just I will. You hang out  and have a real life. Be respectable. I respect you for that.