Driving back from the animal sanctuary, on a day where I had to say goodbye one of my favorite animals who passed on Friday, I was listening to one of the saddest songs I know. “Mad World.” You know the one? Not the original, the remake from Donnie Darko. I noticed as I drove along in the dark while the rain flowed down my windshield that the car in front of me had a license plate that started with “5AD” which I, obviously, misread as “SAD.” I let myself wallow in it. I let it fill every crevice.
The most abusive relationship that every one of us has is with our own brain. Our brains do everything possible to fuck us up and keep the chaos at an all-time high.
I have so many things that I want to do that my mind is bursting out of its seams. And when things are full of anxiety and depression, like they are right now, there’s not a heck of a lot of encouragement swarming around in there. I feel like I have many people living in my brain and they’re so different. They’re at constant battle with me and with each other, all led by my brain ringleader from hell.
“Write your book! At least write a chapter, you lazy shit. Sing. You should be singing every day and rehearsing. Why aren’t you booking shows? You’ve got, like, five videos to post and you’ve had zero contact with the page since August. Why haven’t you uploaded your videos? Oh, you have to edit them first? Wah wah wah. Where’s your one woman show? Figure out the tune to your lyrics. Or are you just stupid? Uh, hello, podcast! Don’t eat that pint of ice cream. Fine, since you did, you should just eat another one. Holy fuck, you are hideous. Where’s that blog post? How about one for your other blog? Children’s book, HELLO? Oh look, these pants don’t fit. You slept 14 hours, you need to get up. Why are you just lying in bed???”
My least favorite word is “potential” because it leaves me stranded at “tomorrow.”
I Like Talking 