I’m tired.

Tired of life.

Tired of being an adult.

Tired of being tired.

Tired of carrying what feels like the entire weight of an elephant in problems upon my achy shoulders. Some days, it’s a baby elephant. Other days, it’s like a papa elephant. Always a goddamn elephant. And yes, baby elephants are fucking OMG-adorable but not when you gotta fucking carry one on your shoulders.

Tired of feeling invisible.

Tired of feeling like a victim… who fucking feels invisible.

Tired of trying to make others happy.

Tired of trying to keep the peace and not let that metaphorical boat rock too much. Have you guys never been in a boat!? They fucking rock! Both literally and figuratively.

I probably sound way more excited about boats than I intend to.

Tired of putting my life on hold.

Tired of not knowing better.

Tired of living in a semi-quasi-sorta ‘Groundhog Day’. If only that wise and wacky Bill Murray were here in my little bubble of the world. He’d fucking know what to say to make me feel better. Or we’d just drink whiskey.

Tired of feeling alone when I’m not alone.

Fucking tired of allowing myself to be the victim, to be a ghost, to be the faint shadow of what I could be.

Already fucking tired of this fucking post and my fucking whining.

Tired of not using the word ‘fuck’ more often.




That’s kind of better. I’ll work on it.

Tired of scientists not figuring out how to make unhealthy food fucking nutritious, powerhouse foods. I just want Taco Bell and a fucking Twinkie to give me all the nutrients the body needs. Is that too much to ask?

Tired of doing every other goddamn thing besides writing.

Tired of not believing in myself.

Tired of having to be strong. Like, emotionally. Physically, I’m a bit meh.

Tired of always remembering, at times of emotional turmoil similar to what I’m currently experiencing, when an ex once told me I was one of the strongest people he knows. I think he probably only knows like three fucking people (not really) so what the fuck does he know?

(And you, lucky reader are thinking, “You!? Experiencing emotional turmoil right now? Nooooooo. This post is so jolly. Filled with words of pure fucking joy.”)

Tired of not knowing when to quit.

Yeah, I know. I’m too legit.

Tired of getting right back up the next day and taking another crack at this stupid fucking thing called life for whatever fucking reason. Because no matter how shitty life is and how much I so fucking want to quit doing it sometimes (I’ve quit every other fucking thing), livin’ is the one thing that I know how to keep on doing.


Have a great fucking day, y’all.




*I needed a good ventin’. Thanks, Internet!

*Image of trees snapped at The Grotto in Portland, OR