My Hill

I wonder if it'll all work out in the long run.

If I'm the protagonist of my own story, the hero, I should get my happy ending, right?

I'm going on a road trip to a haunted house attraction tomorrow. It's three hours away. A friend is driving another friend of ours and me. I don't really care too much about going at this point. I'd kind of rather spend the night in reading or doing anything else but being out. I promised her I'd go and, in so doing, spend money I probably shouldn't spend.

I just sit here after work thinking on how I can't form a band that stays together to save my fucking life and how the novel I'm writing is a challenge to get through at this point. I have no other desires in life but to do these two things and make them my bread and butter. This is what I tell myself.

I wonder, rarely but sometimes, whether or not I just say that to make myself feel better. Maybe I'm just a ball of apathy that really wants nothing more than to just do nothing. I really doubt this is the case except in moments like this.

Climbing up my hill is difficult sometimes.