you have to stay alive. you’re going to be such a beautiful middle aged freak. young freaks will see you in the street and know that things can be okay.
Every night at eleven I have to choose between enjoying the sweet embrace of slumber or staying up late to do something enriching and fun that I wouldn’t otherwise have the opportunity to do. And every night at eleven I take the secret third option of “doing nothing on my phone until one in the morning.”
Something that nobody tells you about growing up to be like your dad is that it will just give you new, invigorated insight into just how much your dad sucks ass. For example, I am in a foul fucking mood because I did poorly on my midterm and now feel like I need to vent my excess neurotic energy by picking a fight. However, instead of waiting til I get home and deliberately setting up a scenario where I have an excuse to blow up at my wife and kids without ‘being in the wrong’, I am instead fuming about how shitty my dad is, which harms nobody of importance and motivates me to be better than him out of spite. Cycle of toxicity averted.
