Walking to the new tapas place downtown. Barefoot Merrell Glove shoes. I can feel my feet getting stronger. This is my creative writing class in the MFA program.
I see a small cat scrunched on the gravel driveway across the street from my house. In the shade. Blends in with the gray and black brown gravel. I think I’ll prob never see this cat again. Like I’ll never care to look again. Or never look to care. Maybe I’m in an existential mood but this cat’s path and I may intersect only right here right now.
I have a problem with food in the refrigerator. More food, more anxiety. It’s the fear of wasting. A fear of losing. The beet greens are wilting. Leftover sauerkraut. Unused broccoli, Brussels sprouts. It’s a control issue.
This is the manic side of myself I need to work on. Letting go. Sounds easy. Give less fucks. Just give less fucks. Easy. Just relax and don’t give a fuck. Just fuck it and what will be will be. Just kick your feet up man chill out.
The professor suggested this tapas place for the last class. I’m a cheap ass so all I can think about is who will pay. Will he buy? Will it be organic food. Will there be a pitcher of water instead of just a glass so I don’t get anxious about alcoholism and not drinking.
I need to run 40 to 60 minutes tonight. Rephrase. I get to run 40 to 60 minutes and it will be after the sunset. It’ll be cooler. I’ll take my shirt off. I wear the short running shorts. I won’t wear headphones. Ok maybe I’ll wear headphones.
In the end whoever said hell is other people is both entirely right entirely wrong. Which is very interesting. Anthropologists and evolutionary psychologists confirm that we are entirely a social animal. Entirely communal, even the least social among us. You can see this with prisons and how solitary confinement, separation from the herd, is the worst possible punishment. So. Those people in your life that give you anxiety? You need them Ry. You’re far better with them.