I’m 26 years old, 26 years and 2 months, give or take, and I think I’m going through some kind of quarter life crisis that is manifesting itself in this Impending Sense Of Doom that feels like it’s bearing down on me incessantly.
I want you to understand that I am not a person who is prone to panic in any way, shape, size or form. Panic, to me, seems like a lot of unnecessary hard work and I’m not into that at all. Hard work, sure, I’m not scared of hard work, but unnecessary hard work? Life’s too short for crap like that.
Panic and worry – what a load. Also it’s pretty much a universal truth that most of the things we worry about never happen. Sure people will argue that they never happen because we worry about them, but I’ll tell those people to fuck right off and keep on not worrying about stuff while they get horrible anxiety-related illnesses and suffer from unrelenting runny poo.
But it’s weird, I don’t know what’s happening to me lately. Round about last week Wednesday I started to get really down, which is also something that doesn’t happen to me often, but I sucked it up, told myself to stop being such a fag and did what I usually do when I’m down – elected to go on a three day drinking binge.
Hahah, I kid.
I hit the gym nice and hard, exercised the demon, went home, ate a big steak, had great sex, passed the fuck out and slept like a baby.
Thing is, the next day it was back. I don’t remember at what point I started feeling it again, but I wasn’t just down this time, this time something else was lurking in my head too, this mild sense of… I don’t know how to describe it, fuck it kills me to write this, but yeah, I think it was panic.
God, why am I writing this? Nobody wants to read this shit, I’m sorry this is fucking retarded.
Forget I ever said anything. Here’s a picture of a monkey riding a bicycle: