BACKGROUND: Digger "Monte Carlo"
I'm trying to be happy. I really am. I'm trying to be happy and positive and smile and hug people and resume my usual wisecracking, jokester life that everyone knows me for. I'm trying really hard to be a good, happy, well adjusted individual. It's just very hard because in being happy, there are a hundred things that I'm trying really hard NOT to think about.
Trying not to think about the serious car accident that I was in last week. You never know when something like that's going to happen. You don't. That's the truth. We get way too glazed, way too complacent in our cars. We think that we're Superman in our cars, we let our guards down, and we get too relaxed and not prepared enough. Hell, I was turning into the parking lot of my work and some punk 16 year old, no insurance, no license, his brother's car, he sideswipes me going about 30 mph, turns me around two or so times, and just drives off. Tries to, at least. Some complete stranger in an SUV chased him down, got him back to the scene. If he hadn't had done that, then Mr. 16 would have just kept driving, the asshole little kid.
Damn, I'm going to have to stop yelling "TERRORIST" at all the SUV drivers now.
I got pretty banged up, too, hitting my head on the top of my lowered windshield as I crashed into the median during my spinning. Sounds serious, right? Well, when the cops, the crack team of Sacramento, California police officers, eventually showed up to the scene, they really didn't give a flying fuck what was going on. They didn't give a fuck. They just treated it as a small little traffic dispute and let Mr. 16 go off with a warning, those Sac cop fuckers! Now I'm left with a $5,000 car bill and the two kids involved have dissappeared and their insurance refuses to do anything about it.
Let me tell you now, if you tell me you work for Geico insurance, I will violently rip off your private parts with my long, blunt fingernails and then pee on your bleeding corpse as you scream in pain on the floor below. Seriously.
Trying not to think about that.
Trying not to think about
Trying not to think about the little her, about her smile and her laugh and her hair and her eyes and her evil black bitch heart that will rot in hell for a thousand eternities for the bullshit she has put me through this past year. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I missed her immensely. I do. With all my being I honestly do miss being with her. It's just that with her comes heartbreak and drama and, eventually, violence from her psycho Big Him. And until she shows me otherwise, until she shows me that she can leave him, she is out of my life completely.
Trying not to think about all the women that I passed up. For Her. Trying not to think about all the women at work that I have such massive crushes on. Trying not to think about my ex-fiance who is now living in San Francisco, about two hours away from me. Trying not to think about how much weight I'm losing. Trying not to think about how great it would feel to pop a few pills and drink a few beers and go to sleep. Trying not to think about how much I miss the warm sunny day feel you get during the day in Arizona, a feeling like a blanket of sun draped all around you. Trying not to think about how much money I'm NOT making and how stupid everyone else in this world seems sometimes. Trying not to think about my love life. Don't get me wrong. It's great right now, my love life. It's happy and playful and all around cool as hell. I've just been hurt some many times this past two years or so that I'm scared, reserved, frightened, not sure of myself, let alone sure of what I'm loking for anymore.
I'm just trying not to think about a lot of stuff.
This probably sounds really down and depressing and it doesn't mean to be. My life is actually very positive right now, very happy-go-lucky sory of cool. There's just a whole lot of bad things right behind me, things that I can feel breathing down my neck every second of every day. They're there. I know they are. And it's a constant struggle to try and stay looking forward.