Ben Bonkoske

It is a mad mad mad mad world. I know when I’m happy there is something wrong. I should try to be discontent more often. I knew today would be a bad day. I ended up in the midst of a beautiful snowstorm. Since it was the first time I had ran in three weeks (due to tendinitis), my lungs burned like I had smoked 100 cigarettes. It was dreadful. I felt an awful pulse like I was going to die that one feels after too much exertion. A few many months ago, I wondered if reintegrating into a scheduled society would render all of my self-reflection useless. Not entirely. I just wish I had more time to write. In other words, I wish I had more time to be patient enough with myself that a few words would spill out. I have been going at it like sex that just is never gonna finish off. I sometimes just want to cry in the shower. I have tried to cut that time out of my life. 20 minutes is too much. I shouldn’t enjoy all that steamy dopamine. For what? A life that is a little more…I just think I’ve forgotten the point. Without an objective or an audience of one, what is the use? I hope someone is looking after me. I feel different therefore alone. I’m starting to not feel as sad when it is time to unwind with music. Depression genre has really helped me process my solitude. I don’t suppose it is fair to disappear for a year and expect everything to just fall into place when I return. I also way overshared this past year. I never thought life might be a fight worth fighting for. I lose statistically 6 out of 7 days of the week. But that one good fucking day where I see I’ve grown and gone further than I did when I biked across the country, ya know, the loneliness, alienation, embarrassment, disappointments, and yes, little indulgences I can’t resist, end up being worth it. I know something is wrong when I’m happy. I’m realizing now that is because I’ve never been that before.