Rest Up
2026-08-14
I'm afraid of moving on.
There's a certain paralysis-by-analysis that plagues me, if you can believe it! Even with all the pills I take every morning, I still find myself bereft of a sense of normalcy. How I crave to be normal, man. I know that doesn't really exist, but I guess I more lament my own unique set of differences and challenges. What's new? I think the Lexapro I started taking last week has been kicking in. I felt unbelievably sick and neutered, only in that special way an SSRI can make you feel. If I'm being honest with (You), a central motivation for getting back on it was so that I could further repent from my pornography addiction. A common side effect of SSRIs is sexual dysfunction and delayed ejaculation, and it's been a harrowing experience looking up those videos just to feel disgusted and ashamed of myself. More than that, I feel a great, mute empathy for those people performing in those videos, seeing the complicated set of mental gymnastics they have to go through to push forward with what they're doing. I probably feel worst for the successful ones. For some people, the devil gives them a bunch of good stuff so that they can further turn their backs on God.
I don't wish to self-flagellate, nor do I wish to harp on and on about ailments and whatever else is grinding my overclocked gears. Sometimes joy is something you have to squeeze out like those last few drops of toothpaste, and you feel that sigh of relief as you brush your teeth and get to put off an errand for at least another day. I had another one of those nights where I didn't feel like I slept at all, just hung out in Liminal Land again, teetering in and out of fugue states while tossing and turning under my hot blanket while my bedside fan hums at me. I woke up a bit earlier than usual this morning to piss, wishing I could fight for those next two hours of sleep that wouldn't have done me much good anyway. I had my smoke, my protein shake, somehow didn't puke, and just spent the wee hours of the morning wondering how any of this is real, how it makes sense, and how I'm going to make it. As much as I look forward to getting my thoughts out on the page in the morning, I find a beautiful sense of irony in realizing that for how much I bemoan bullshit jobs, I picked the most bullshitted of them all. Takes one to know one.
I hope that I am at least a worthy one-sided companion in this little campfire we've got here. Thank (You) for being here with me, offering your spirit, your attention. I try to be as captivating as I am honest, and my waning penchant for entertainment helps me get through. I try not to be so grandiose in my convictions, but there's a nice sense of mundanity in text; it's much better than something overstimulating like other multimedia projects. Isn't it nice, just to be sitting wherever you're at, letting your eyes and your heart gloss over these words as I lull you into some sense of something? How are you feeling? I hope you're feeling better than you were when you started; that much you deserve. In these few short minutes, let's try to have a better day. Maybe the dreams will come true, maybe they won't. Who cares what they think? Who cares what you think? There's a nice sense of peace in a short meditation on the transience of it all, and as I write these words and as you read them, I hope you can take that time just to sit still for a few minutes. Rest up, things are coming. What are they? I don't know, shut up!
Reclaim those things that have been scaring you, but remember to rest on what is Good and True. I know you've got that little voice in the back of your head, but don't spend so much time listening to it. Just breathe. Seriously, come on. Four counts in, six counts out, in the nose and out through pursed lips. Do that three times.
Do you feel a bit better? Yes? No?
You can come back to it. I'll be here to cheer you on.
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