I Am A Dancing Goddamn Monkey

My mood is foul. I hate everything. Tomorrow will be a week since quitting cigarettes.

I don’t see the point of anything. The quitting, the van experiment, this blog. Especially this blog. I feel like a dancing goddamn monkey.

But I set some stupid fucking goals, so I’m sticking with them. Trying to keep perspective. Half-assing it is 50% better than not doing it at all, so here I am.

I really don’t have anything of value to contribute to your Tuesday.

Except maybe this: if you’re a smoker, do yourself a favor and KEEP SMOKING.

Fuck.

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