I’ve had so many ideas about what I need to say the last few (two) days. It is wonderful the amount of thoughts that drive on my mental highway. We all just hope there isn’t an accident.
Since I have nowhere to start – let’s start with a little self-pity. 🙂
I haven’t celebrated my birthday in 9 years. I think that’s all. Oh. Tomorrow is my birthday. YIPPIE! Hopefully some people call.
Last night, I read an entire book titled Alan Carr’s Easyway to Quit Smoking. You are allowed to read it while you smoke (haha, see what I did there). But I was done. I’ve been done for 10 years. I’ve lost 10 years of my life to cigarettes. Three that were supposed to be good. And 4 others. But last night, I finally read something that helped reveal why I will no longer be smoking, and why it will be easy – instead of the eighteen months I spent white-knuckling my willpower to not smoke.
This all being said, I’m resetting my sobriety date. I don’t care what other people say. I have not been sober these past three months. April 3rd, 2024. That’s my date. It means something to ME. Not all the other girl’s birthday’s I’ve “quit.” My last cigarette was this morning after I finished the book (You are encouraged to have your last cigarette after reading the book), but I’ll go by the 3rd.
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In another post titled “Still Thinking” I referred to myself as a butterfly. Someone (an old caterpillar) told me that 27 is the year that you either figure it out, or you don’t. So unless I just figured it all out last night thanks to Alan Carr, it’s about time I understand everything. That being said, I’d like to amend my statement. I am not an entire butterfly. I am a caterpillar with wings. I am this caterpillar –
Side note – I’m listening to The Black Keys and I should give Ryan N. a call tomorrow (my birthday). So yes, my birthday is really just a good excuse to call the people you don’t get to talk with often enough.
I had some impending blog post about the nervous system and how it is related to love. How who we think we love is just the person which has the deepest nervous system’s reaction based on either joy, sex, laughter, pain, or the chemical of feeling understood. It’s a losing battle when you are not recreating those neural pathways with someone, especially when they are creating new ones with someone else. I write to stay alive in their minds. But you know, muscles atrophy in everyone if not worked out. People forget, ideas vanish, and I don’t care about dying for someone that never loved me either. But when I write that I’ll never be back again, that little fear in their heart, makes them know they love me.
Oh, and last but not least, on my gratitude list, the last thing I wrote was this other things not called God but is the crappy conversation with the universe. The name of this entity is IT. I read the book, and I’ve got to remember my fears are just a little bitch demon that scares me.
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Ben Bonkoske 