It is hard being honest with how I feel about myself. It is hard asking really tough questions and it is even harder answering back with some truth. The longer I went without asking myself those questions the more I became estranged from the social activities of everyday life. Not to say that my duty in life was to engage in the ritualistic nortions of what a 27 year should be doing, but overtime I became an expert at taking time for myself. I find this to be perfectly fine but instead of making some progress, I dwelled in the negative validation I created rather than work on my shit.
For the longest time, I thought I could procrastinate my way to positive mental health but while listening to a Kimya Dawson line “I got good at feeling bad.” I realized through Kimya Dawson own honesty I had come to be a champ at feeling bad. Feel bad is healthy sometimes. Yet unlike Kimya, I wasn’t being proactive with these feelings. I just sat, sat, and sat. I didn’t produce a bad song, eat vegan ice cream, or cry while watching others take part in life. Instead, I dwelled on my mortality, colonization, played video games and drank a bottle of Jack! There was a certain genetic nostalgia that was very familiar to me when I was in my room. I started to know these feelings all to well and realize a person very close to me did this same type of self deprecation for years. It was one thing to feel like I was alone in this process but to know that people I love go through this was maddening. One thing form e to be a certain type of loose but it kills me to see people I care about not living the lives they want to live. So, I took a shot of Tennessee whiskey, Shaved off the beard, Stopped playing NBA2k13 and Called my mama. This was the phone conversation:
Me: Mama, we aint no punks!
Mama: That’s right baby, I didn’t raise any punks!
Me: Mama let’s fuck shit up and smash Patriarchy!!!
Mama: That’s Right!!!
I got off my ass and started to work! This was the most apparent result!