Every time I smoke alone, I psychoanalyze myself. And it can be really depressing because it usually makes me think about myself
I guess the root of this is that I really don’t know what I want–I don’t know what I want to be, I don’t know what makes me happy, I don’t know why I’m doing all this, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, if there even is anything wrong with me. Hell, I don’t know anything. And it’s depressing because at the end of my self-therapy or whatever it is, I don’t come any closer to finding anything out.
The only conclusion I usually come up with is that I’m not happy or contented. But the problem is that I don’t know what will make me happy or contented. And I guess what’s really beneath all my self-reflecting, depressive tendencies is that I have a feeling that no matter what happens, I’ll never be satisfied with anything.
OH NO. I am not getting depressed again.
you know what, I psychoanalyze too when I smoke alone that’s why I think it’s not healthy, I end up saying FML. And it’s not good that you suddenly call people just to escape this psychoanalysis. I call it, smoke-break-call. I sometimes regret calling people but what can I do. It’s smoke-break calling. HA ha.
I hope this makes sense. Ha ha ha
Believe me, it does. At least you call people. I deal alone. And it gets even more depressing–which is why I really am quitting. It can be too depressing.
What’s nice to know is that we’re still going through the same things even if we’re on two different continents.
Mine’s called smoke–deal–get amused by some random person to forget everything. Hahaha.