I fucking hate myself about 95% of the time.

I think I’m pretty smart. Turns out I’m just another dumb hick. Yay me! I thought false confidence was something one could be aware of. Survey says!…. Nope. Still dumb. I hope it’s not genetic.

Imdoneimdoneimdoneumfuckingdonefuckthis stupidassbullshitjustfuckit

Steak knives arent sharp enough. Broken shards of glass. Oncoming cars. My head bangs against the hot pavement. Just another piece of meat to shovel off the road.

One last turn of the knife before I hit my knees. Giving my world to lift you up has left me hollow. Fill me with your burden. Sink me.

I’ve noticed, recently especially, my decline in physical fitness. My abdomen has become a grotesque protrusion as opposed to the washboard it used to be. My posture has backtracked the evolutionary pattern and looks more like homo erect us than homo sapien. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not as attractive of an individual as I once was. Maybe I’m just hitting my proverbial wall. I’ve had a trying life; no doubt. And the trials that lie ahead are of epic grandeur. I’m excited, terrified, anxious, dreadful, happy, and scared of the rest of my life. And the scary part is: my latest outlook on my life is that “It’ll be alright, Mitch. The next day may not be as good as the last, but it won’t be you last. So tread well and give it your all because someone, somewhere is watching.” And with that I step out into my next day. Here goes.