Shrug Life


I’m still very much trying to figure out what is and isn’t worth my time…what I do and do not wish to spend my sober days occupied with.  These can be day-to-day, minute-to-minute; these can be life’s grand abstractions and bigger pictures.  None of it ever stays in one place for very long, and it’s confusing as hell.

Forging a new identity is no small charge.  There are parts of my past I wish to keep, as imbued facets of my personality; to rediscover them after so long, almost feels like coming home for a big holiday.  There are also parts I never ever wish to touch again.  Then, there are all the new bits that I’m learning as I go, often lost along the way.

But: there’s a huge line between the crushing apathy of clinical depression, and the jovial indifference to the unimportant when you’re just On Life.  Where I would once upon a time Pick Up in the event of existential aimlessness?  Now, I eventually come to the same conclusion, one way or another: I shrug, do my best not to dwell, and turn my attention to the next thing.

I don’t always get to that point straightaway, but it is almost always there waiting for me.  Why you stressin’?  Ain’t no thing.

For example: I could sit here and try to navigate the nonsensical maze of shit in my mind that folds in upon itself exponentially…or I could move on with my life and fold my laundry, so I can cook an egg and watch the new season of House of Cards while I eat it. *shrugs*

What it do?  Just be.  As always.



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