Cemetery

Sometimes I get into these slumps and I can’t tell people about them. I guess this isn’t just an issue for me. After all, nobody really cares unless if you’re pretty or dying.

I had a conversation with a very near and dear friend of mine, one of the few people I am at complete ease with. She told me I hide behind a mask of happiness and tomfoolery (more so than usual) when shit is on the rocks, and we’re not talking about my alcohol. There are worse ways to dress up I suppose. When things come to a head and I can’t handle being around people and my miserable ass could use some company, I take a walk to the cemetery. With a six pack.

I sit on some poor soul’s headstone and lay it on ’em. I crack open two beers and start mumbling about everything. My grandfather passed away a few weeks ago and I miss the shit out of him. I’m taking on student loans and I don’t even know if I’m gonna land a job after college. There are other things I mention, but that stuff is only for the dead. Funny thing is I feel better after these sessions. I feel better after talking to a bunch of rocks with dead people’s names on them. If I ever decide to get a headstone I’m gonna put some words of wisdom on that shit so it’s interesting. Okay, I don’t have much wisdom at my age, so perhaps a funny story would do.

In a club. Really drunk. Need more drink but I lost bottomless cup because some chick knocked it out of my hand; too lazy to look for it. Came up with plan: I say to man at bar, “My g spot is located about two inches inside your wallet.” He buys me a drink. I run away to dance floor laughing  my ass off.

I think someone could appreciate that story. To sweeten the deal I’d install a bench with a cup holder and Wifi hotspot. I bet all of the graveyard caretakers would visit my hole in the ground.

Actually, here are some words of wisdom that I say when people are stressing:

Y’all need to fucking relax. Take a bath. Eat some chocolate. Fuck with the curtains open. Shit.

I obviously have life figured out.

And I’m on the wagon so I’ll be taking Arizona tea to Beloved Son and Brother, David.

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