Faking It

Back from bowling with a group of people. Should have had a good time but didn't really. Not because I can't bowl, just not there right now. Something is eating at me. Of course, seeing a girl I have a crush on with someone else doesn't help, but truth is that's just bullshit. I am just using that to escape what's really going on.

I don't know what the fuck is really going on. I know I'd like a smoke, but won't. Lately I have been having shortness of breath and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I am at risk for emphysema. I'd like to think that's crap and maybe it's just the cold weather but my stamina is definitely a little off these days. Of course, I over do it, so that might be it too.

Anyway, I'm dodging the elephant in the room. On the one hand, I'm making all these efforts to get out--fellowship, bowling, even a few dates--and yet at times I still feel completely alone and really want to shut down, lock in, grab an eight ball and a case and go to town. Now those feelings don't stick around and really I don't want to go there. But shit, it's normal that I want to do that sometime. I just have to remember where it takes me. That it's not fun anymore. And that it is not an answer. Even writing it out lessens the appeal.

I get weird sometimes putting shit out there but screw it. How am I ever going to put anything on the page if I can't even put myself out there in this empty universe known as the blogosphere.

I don't like faking it, but sometimes it is required. This is one of those times.

And if one more motherfucker asks me what I'm doing for new years! Jeez, it's a Monday for crying out loud. You'll find me on Perry Street where I belong. Not cool enough for Soho. Not my scene.