On the Hunt

I feel like writing something.  I was going to journal, debrief an incredibly frustrating and upsetting conversation I had tonight, but I have sort of already done that, alone with the world over porch and smokes.

I am afloat in the universe.  Every time I poke my heart, just to see if she's awake, just to see what she's up to, I find her swimming in dread and worry.  I forget it sometimes, whenever I'm laughing with other people or lost in a book, but whenever I stop to check my surroundings, I see that I am on a train to total destruction.  Don't worry, it's not depression, it's just unemployment.  such an uninteresting thing to feel anxious about, right?  But it is there, it mutes everything else in my life, it makes enjoyment and happiness a chore, a groping.  It is worse that I have no real way of resolving it, that all of my efforts feel so small and ineffectual.  I have interviews.  We will see what comes of them.  We will see if I can fool anyone into thinking I am actually capable of being an adult.  The suit helps, I think, but it only gets you so far.  The problem is that I am trying to be something I am not.  because being what I am does not pay so well, and I am in a situation where I need some pay.

I don't know, there is a glimmer.  Tomorrow, I have an interview to teach music lessons.  See, that is who I am.  music lessons.  music lessons and Barnes & Noble.  We will see.