
my extremities of moods leave me no space to transition to and from. this job's a fucking handful and i oscillate from bliss to agony in a matter of seconds, wholly dependent on my setting and activities. this weekend as a whole was wonderful, inspiring, and !fun!, yet folded in me and bobby arguing about (not even
over) the last slice of pizza. he was mostly kidding, but i was fighting back tears. and simultaneously erupting in forceful chuckles because fuck it, we were fighting over pizza. it's the new spilled milk.
he became upset once realizing i was upset, and pressed me to talk about why i was upset full knowing that i hate expressing myself when i am feeling sour. before we knew it, twilight chased us as we sat on the stoop of a bolted door in the gentrified cement playground of northern liberties, cigarettes faithfully chained to our hands, our mouths struggling to compose broken sentences in our exhausted, frustrated delirium.
tangentially related, lauren and i realized that we share the common pattern of bipolar friends/acquaintances consistently telling us that we are moody.
this job is draining me; it's suppressing my curiosities, passions, and interests. i'm quitting once i muster up the courage. aside from compromised financial security i don't have much to lose. the time will be spent working on my photography, maybe heading back to the magazine office to do design work, reading books, flexing and curling my toes just because. hopefully the burden removed from my shoulders will lighten up a heavy heart.