I’m sitting here, stewing, over some stupid comments someone made a few hours ago. Like, laying in bed, running the conversation through my head over, and over, and over again.
My normal MO would be to drink the feelings away. Whelp, can’t do it. And you know what? It makes me feel like a fucking teenager. I actually laid here for a bit going, “Well, I *could* kill myself, but that would be too much pain for my loved ones and too much work for me, and oy, just a waste of time.” So, I guess there’s one good thing that comes with a bit more age.
Regardless, turning and turning in bed, rehashing stupid, pointless conversations that most likely, everyone but me will not even remember in a day or two, but I’m obsessing over them. If I can’t use booze to shut them off, then what can I use?
I’ve been skipping yoga for the past few weeks, but I guess tomorrow certainly wouldn’t hurt to attend.
Regardless, TEENAGER BRAIN without all the FUN HORMONAL, LOVEY-DOVEY INFATUATION STUFF.