I think I'm sick of being a fuck up. 

For so long I've built myself a big fluffy excuse cushion to fall back onto when I fail. I'm not the best athlete I can be because I'm a smoker. I can't wake up early for work or exercise because I'm hungover. I have a drinking problem because I'm depressed. I'm depressed because I fail at everything. And so on and so on.

But I'm fucking tired of it.

I haven't smoked in five weeks. Cold turkey. And I have no desire to smoke. Not even in the first week. Sure I drunkenly asked for a cigarette once or twice but I didn't ask seriously and I asked the one person who knew I was quitting and would say no. And I didn't push him. They weren't sincere attempts. I think what makes this shot at quitting so much easier is because I am legitimately tired of being a smoker. The desire to smoke and be self destructive is, for the first time, being overruled by my desire to improve my life.

Similarily, I've cut way back on drinking this month. Instead of going out Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (plus some weeknights here and there), I've managed to bring it done to one to two nights a week and not even staying out til 5 am like normal.

Mostly because I have a dog now who needs someone to feed her and let her out. And because I miss her and worry that she's lonely when I'm out too long.

Also because I'm broke and I'm trying to get my financial shit together. And because I'm trying to be healthier. Cause I don't want a hangover and I don't want to be tempted to smoke. And I don't want to be a poor, unhealthy, hungover smoker. For much longer.

I also don't want to be tempted to be out all night waiting for a certain man to allow me to come home with him. While I'm still very much into him and want to be around him, I'm just not feeling as... Needy? I think about him. But I try not to think about what he's doing when I could be there but choose not to be. Perhaps distance will make the (his) heart grow fonder. Maybe out of sight, out of (my ) mind. I'd like to think he will miss me and try to see me. But I'd also like to think that these changes I'm making will help me get over this person who I sometimes feel I lower myself down to meet.

Not that he's beneath me (except when he is, nyuk nyuk). But he chooses to live a certain lifestyle that I chose for a long time to also live, sometimes just in an effort to be near him.

Objectively, I realize how sad that sounds. But it was easier there, below my potential. It was easier to put in little to no effort and still have someone who seemed to like it. My basic instincts would have me lay in bed naked, smoking, exhaling out the bedroom window, until 3 in the afternoon on a Monday. But how long can I do that? Soon my face will start to wrinkle. My body will start to sag. My bank account will grow smaller each day along with my career prospects. My conversation fodder will consist more and more of regrets and failures and days past. When you're young and attractive and making a living (barely) in the most expensive city in America and still have enthusiasm and hope and potential...and you still can't get that man to want to be with you consistently? It's only going to get worse from here on out, right?

I love him. I love lazy days. I love drinking and smoking and wandering the city streets at 4 am. But that is a child's game and I'm losing patience and time.

I could go on loving him forever like that. A never ending fucking misguided youth. But wouldn't it be nice, maybe, to also love each other in the next stage of life? The stage where you are self aware and actively trying to improve your present (forget the future. Present). The stage where you are generous with your time and your feelings and your effort. Because it's not about you anymore. It's not about living a bohemian life because you're too afraid to try and fail. It's about progress and helping the ones you love succeed and grow with you.

I've been trying, slowly and sometimes not so slowly, to lift him up with me. But he's not ready or not interested or both.

So I need the distance. I need to not follow him into a night of physically and emotionally unhealthy decisions that last into the next day with a little shame and a little apathy. 

And you know what fucking blows? I'm not glowing. I'm not living a new, vibrant life. I'm not fucking blooming. Instead of engaging all night with my fellow degenerates and laughing and learning and feeling things, I am sitting at home. Alone and quiet and thinking. I'm not happier like this. I'm not satisfied. I'm aware that this will pay off. Should pay off. But for now I just feel sad and lonely. Reflective and withdrawn. Ashamed of how I lived, how I live now. Blogging to literally no one because I can't sit silently in my room for four hours and organize my thoughts. 

But hey... At least I quit smoking.

Tuesday nights seem to be the  time of the week I'm most likely to think about killing myself.

Some people hate Mondays.
Some people are exhausted by Wednesday ( hump day ).
Some people are filled with dread on a Sunday night because it's time to go back to work or school or a mundane combination of both.

For me, Tuesday nights are when I generally picture myself jumping in front of a bus or drowning myself in a bathtub. Or just quietly think about simply not being.

Tuesdays are too quiet. Too  lonely.

I'm not even actively *sad* right now. Like some depressives, I feel very little right now which is often worse than feeling sad.

I just feel overwhelmed to the point of shutting down. Shut it. The fuck. Down.

But there's nothing to worry about because I never close down shop completely. Good old reliable Veronica, "you're the strongest person I know" Veronica, will pull  out of it enough to go to work tomorrow, to be funny enough for co workers and Facebook, to go to practice and be a "supportive" teammate (which is an issue to discuss on another day). Mediocre even as a head case.  Working very hard to keep it together to stay alive and present for a life that I'm not even currently enjoying. Where's the sense in that?