Truth Bomb

Truth Bomb: I need a fucking beer.

There, I said it. I just need a beer. I need to be at my parents house, sitting on their deck, drinking a beer and laughing about the mistakes I made when I was twelve. I need to be at a bar with my best friends celebrating making it through one more day of semi-adulthood-craziness. I need to be in California visiting my best friends, hitting up bars too fancy for us but we fake it til we make it.

I need to get away from this bad week. And it's not just me. Which is a good and bad thing. Literally, every one I've talked to about my slump has said, you're telling me... We're tired, we're emotional, we're uninspired. Stressed out. And it's just a bad week... it will pass... but I need a beer.

I need a listen-to-Steve-Martin-play-the-banjo-watch-Hocus-Pocus-drink-beer-and-cry-my-fecking-eyes-out kind of night.

You know?

[compare where you are to where you want to be and you'll get nowhere]