Still...

I find myself in the same damn spot in life all the time. I wonder if I actually don't mind it. Being single is actually an understatement. I love people, but I'm constantly going alone. I don't mean that in a pouty whiny fashion either. I live for myself too often and it gets old. Then I'm reminded of times when I tried to live for someone else, and I got fucked. Prime example, family. It's ok though, because in something like five billion years the earth will be consumed by the sun and we will be nothing more than...nothing...

After a marathon of a day (15 hours of work and school) I decided to go to my new local watering hole. Guinness is my poison and a good crowd keeps me coming back. For some the toilet is their thinking spot. For me, it's the bar. A good bar. I'm happy with where I've decided to take my life currently but I'm not happy with certain aspects that should have been different.

I decided to open a small little diner in my pseudo-hometown. The support I was expecting was nothing more than a hand ready to be held out with the palm to the sky waiting for a handout. I sold it not because it wasn't working, but because I wasn't happy. Plain and simple. I've burnt a lot of bridges with it and quite honesty I don't care at this point. The demons inside me have decided to speak out a bit tonight. Not because of the time at the bar (I only had one Guinness), but because of the overwhelming fatigue from the last few weeks. (And really, the last ten years of my life)

The last visit to my parents was quite sobering for me. For the zillionth time I recently turned my life upside down (flight school)... Seeing my parents after a few years amongst hate-filled emails of guilt and shaming to me, I couldn't have wanted a faster exit. Everything I've done and every decision I've made is my fault. Got it. I sold my place still owing money.. Got it.... I paid off people that truly helped along the way. When all is said and done, I was sitting in a house that I've never felt comfortable in. Ever. As I'm looking up at the thousands of dollars worth of Thomas Kinkade paintings and the ridiculous amounts of trinkets and random shit, I hear the undertones of guilt being thrown my way. "Oh, the big news.... Me and your dad are going to Ireland for... " if I had a gun I would have pulled it out, polished one round, stuck it in the chamber and pulled the trigger to my fucking temple. Reminiscing of the time I got my ass beat to a pulp when I was a kid and dropped my wallet on the ground after tossing and catching it like a baseball. I was informed to never ever disrespect money.

Welcome to the first explanation of a part of my blog that I've left out this whole time. Ever seen the movie American Beauty? Totally different story line but same sort of effect.

I'm tired now and feel like sleeping. As much as I haven't shared too many details of a part of my life I hate, there's plenty more waiting to be vomited out someday. Because of some other really good things in my life right now, I'm finally content with my path. I have no clue what it is, but living for myself once again is an amazing feeling. Guilt is waiting right outside for me though...