Diary of Surrender, Week 9: The Devil Comes for You at Your Highest Moment, But Who Comes for You When You’re in Pajamas by Early Afternoon?
This is a story about chocolate and Xanax and heroes.
I’m writing a diary about my year of giving up, although I may give up on this too. Who knows? You can read about why I’m giving up here, and the previous week of saying fuck it here. (The term “week” is used loosely).
I haven’t been writing because I just don’t wanna. Not sure what to say about that, other than to say that I don’t wanna. I have a vague voice chirping in the back of my head that I should finish what I started (namely, this weird Diary of Surrender project) and I do agree with the chirping voice, but I’m at a point that if I don’t want to do a thing I’m not doing the thing.
One the one hand, this is freedom. On the other hand, this is stupid: I still haven’t paid a traffic ticket I got more than a month ago because I don’t wanna. To be fair, I tried once online, but it wasn’t in the system yet. I looked again a week later, it wasn’t there, and then I just decided to stop looking for it at all. I recognize this is bad. But like writing, I just don’t wanna look a third time.
