Somedays It Ain't Sunny, But It Ain't So Hard.

Maybe a millennial version of my mother. But right now, I am blaring female jazzy feelings music, on my 3rd cup of long island ice tea. It’s ten till nine in the morning. I have cats, my mother would have never had cats, she wasn’t really the animal type of woman. Maybe being deprived from animals in the household has made me become a fur baby mama. I’m a lot of things my mother wasn’t but when I think of it, I am all the things she was, just becoming of my generation. My generation goes hard. And that’s me. I’m a little depressed today, I don’t really have a reason to be, but the music really translates my feelings into words and it makes me feel a little better. I don’t know why I started drinking so early. This was behavior typical of 19 year old me. The me that should have been in class but was drinking and driving all over town instead, the me that should have been more worried about her dying mother than her nine year senior boyfriend. 

The more I drink, the less the words make sense. Kind of like, I don’t really understand language but I know the words flow so it just seems right. Rereading makes the words look misspelled, like I’m just stupid. I’m constantly questioning myself, questioning everything. Why?

My last blog revolved around my drug intake and my thoughts while under the influence. This post is the same thing, except I’m only drinking. I don’t even like drinking. But my mother did. That was her vice. She hardly even smoked cigarettes. I smoke like a train. 

The Thousand Hands of the Bodhisattva, Performed by the Beijing Dance Company