Diary of a Twenty-Something: Change is F#@k’d

Last time I wrote something, I was highly distracted. Thousands of thoughts were running around in my head. I had so many hopes and wants on what to actually write about. Then I finally did it, and overall, it went okay.

I wanted it to be something personal, about something that meant a lot to me, ya know? When it comes down to it, it is hard to just fling personal shit out there for anyone and everyone to read and scrutinize, and probably criticize. The internet is a huge place. I had some friends read it, and they were mostly positive. Some were brutally honest, and one just tore me to shreds. I guess that explains the lack of posts.

Maybe I lost some confidence over such a scathing review. Then again, here I sit, back at it. I guess I finally learned to brush off such a review. Fuck it. This is a personal blog and not some overview of a game, the state of the nation, or what my opinion on piece-of-shit Martin Shekrhli is. This is me “getting raw with ya’ll”. So let’s do that.

I’m sitting here buttass naked, hammering this shit out. I hope you are too, and not in a sexual way. I mean, I just got off work and I don’t wanna wear pants anymore kind of way. The last time I left you readers, I was a mess. My room was littered in cheap beer and snuffed smokes. A lot has changed in my life since then. I don’t even have a fucking ashtray in my room or a pack of smokes to my name.

“There comes a time when you realize that the mess in your room isn’t cleaning up the mess that is your life.”

–Drew Walsman

Yeah, that’s right people, I quit smoking. Fucking A, right? I guess, I’ve finally grown up or at least, have realized that burying my problems in the bottoms of beer bottles and cigarette packs is not going to fix anything. Changing is fucking rough, growing up is arduous, and reflecting on why you’re doing something self-destructive can’t be more difficult. For years, all the way back when I suicidal mess in college, I had been drinking every damn day and lighting my cigarettes with the one I was about to snuff.

There comes a time when you realize that the mess in your room isn’t cleaning up the mess that is your life. For way too long, I’ve spent years obsessing over the bad things, rather than trying to invoke a change. Even recently, someone tried to get back in my life briefly, for a ride home from work, and it really shook me up. Instantly, I wanted to get shit-faced drunk and chain smoke a pack of Camels; the two crutches I’ve had for years, and years. To get my mind off this, I went to Wal-Mart to hopefully catch some fresh air and feel society.

Big mistake. I mean, when you already have anxiety, going to a supermarket is just asking for problems (the story of me being a complete moron, that is a story in and of itself, better suited for another day). Needless to say, I had to jet. I walked past their stringent security and sliding doors with hands full of unpaid food, hopped into my car, and just finally felt air going into my lungs. I fucked up.

I had to get home and eat which didn’t help. The thought of eating this stolen food was eating me alive. I let the food wreak havoc on my stomach and mind. I tried to play some video games but after being told to “uninstall”, I knew the gaming wasn’t helping. So I did something I never do. I talked to someone. Instantly, I began to feel better. Not totally, but better.

I still felt bad about stealing that shit but made up for it the next day by buying a dude gas. That’s beside the point of what I’m getting at here. I’m getting at just talking to someone about heavy shit for the first time in my life. I’ve never felt that before. Well, felt like I could do that. I have always kept a lot of my grief and pain inside because I’ve never wanted to be treated like a burden and that has only gotten me to a room full of booze and problems.

Realizing that self-destructive behavior will get me nowhere is weird…What’s weirder is realizing that I was the one self-destructing, and not somebody I know or have heard about. I have so many amazing people in my life, and over the past month, I have come to see them and talk to them every day. It is nice feeling like I don’t have to go at it anything alone like I have for so long,…which is another story for later (look forward to that toxic shit).

So what’s the point of this? I guess what I’m trying to get at is, changing is fucking weird. Growing up, in general, is always awkward. Whether it be learning to jerk off to Lady Marmalade (holy shit that video) or to quit smoking because you’re coughing up phlegm.



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    By: Drew Walsman

    Drew is a twenty something weirdo. Typically he can be found at a local dive bar chain smoking, keeping to himself watching the people interacting. He loves professional wrestling, playing video games until his eyes bleed, and dogs. He’s a proud father of a chihuahua. He’s a manic-depressive who refuses to stay medicated. Most stories will revolve around wrestling, dogs, and the ups and downs of his ever chaotic life.

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    Diary of a Twenty-Something: Distractions

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