Thursday, March 16, 2006

The angel on my shoulder wears a doo-rag.

It's these last fucking couple of weeks of winter that are the tough ones. When you start getting the nice days like Saturday, and they feel like spring, but the next morning it's 34 and sleet, it's like God just saying "pssht" to your face.
I've been trying all winter long to keep my head up. The goal was to make it through one entire winter with neither crippling depression, or medication, the "medication" category including winter-long whiskey comas. I made it all the way through the end of February before a clusterfuck of dramatic situations got a hold of me and started tugging me down. Now I'm limping towards the finish line, bleeding, with little more than the image of Tupac lipsynching "Keep Ya Head Up" in my mind's eye to keep me dragging myself towards the end. I'm not even sure where the finish line is anymore. I figured it would be the first day that I saw girls walking around in tank tops, but that was last week.

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