Dear Journal,

It’s currently 4:08 a.m. central time, i am listening to the song Cilvia Demo by Isaiah Rashad after watching ep. 1 of Punisher on Netflix (about 1/3 down a bottle of Evan Williams). I have went through a wide range if emotions and self-revelations before getting to this point…my mortality, legacy, etc. Shit is stale af. It’s a constant thing. I wanna be sad or depress (more than usual). I swear it’s a constant (cry it out and feel better vs. keep it bottled in). I understand that nothing matters but everything matters. It’s so weird to think…”fuuuuuck everything v everything matter”. Idk. I’m such a “happy”, a “secretly sad af”, “religious atheist” etc. Fuck you. I’m but I’m too old not to know. I use to have it all figured out. I want ppl to understand but I don’t want to be in contact with ppl like me because I’m not a person like me. It’s hard to say right now and it’s hard to explain…idk....fuck you…FUCK YOU.

…Fuck you,
Drunk Guy?