shoulda woulda coulda

There are few things in life that can mess you up like the loss of a parent but the guilt of not being there for everyone else is a pretty close second. I should have went home when it was bad, I should have stayed, I should have helped more. My family is not that close but my brother had to carry the weight of this on his shoulders since he was closest. He had to mow the lawn and carry down the air conditioners and move the couch when the hospital bed came in. He had to help plan the funeral while I waited to see when I could even get home.
I dread going home and facing people. I dread the line of people who I won’t recognize waiting to “console” me.
It’s hard to really wrap your head around having someone there one minute and then gone the next. I don’t think I’m processing well.
When I go I want a party, New Orleans style. I want a fucking parade down the street with some ska music and I want you all to get good and drunk. And I hope I come back to haunt something, at least then I’ll make a story.

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Today is the day I give up

I drove an hour to work today, past a car crash, over the dirty bridge, through Detroit, and a stretch of graffiti covered abandoned warehouses and buildings to turn around and come home. That’s how much I hate everything today. Not just today. It’s not like i just woke up and said to the world “I hate you and everything in you today!”. Maybe I thought it… but still. It seems that everyday I wake up with just a little less caring and passion.
My boss was not there when I got to work. I was very late, not that I have a good excuse, simply because the thought of getting out of bed, leaving my dogs, and driving though a sea of assholes to get to a shit hole of a warehouse to make some crap that no one appreciates gives me little reason to pull the covers off my head. Every day those covers get a little heavier and the time I actually pull myself out of bed gets a little later. I just don’t care. I texted my boss to find out what he wanted me to do. I was already on edge, I have a lot of projects going on that I want to do and a lot of personal shit weighing me down so needless to say with not wanting to be there I was in no mood for shit. He texted back ” come to work on time.” He’s a joker, a haha funny I wanna be your friend, kinda boss, but I was in no mood for humor or sarcasm with a hint of truth.
I’m not needed there. Despite what people think it takes very little talent to make anything and art schools are pumping out hordes of kids who paid a lot of money to learn how to make stuff because making stuff sounds way easier than doing stuff. I looked around at all the faces that I didn’t know, who just got hired in the last week while I was a away, and all the people I had worked with for the last few years and I was pretty sure no one would give two shits if I was there or not. so in the midst of tears I turned around packed up my bags and left. I didn’t even punch out.
I don’t know what it says about me as a person when there are so many people who can’t find jobs and I just walk out on mine.
Seeing someone you love in a hospital bed wasting away telling you how they regret not spending enough time with you when you were little is a pretty big wake up call to not spend your life doing shit you hate. It just takes a a different kind of person to know what they want and that is not me. I shouldn’t say that, I know what I want, I just don’t have any support in my grand ideas about what my life should be. And that’s what keeps me doing shit I hate. Being miserable is easier when everyone else is happy about what you are doing until you break and then you feel like a big pile of shit about everything and you say today is the day I give up.