Fighting back

Fuck, man, I had this fuckin' bad day at work. Three fuckin' days in the school year and already it's turned to shit.

But I don't want to talk about that.

What do you want to talk about, farmboy?

About how I can't stick up for myself, have an opinion and/or be in any conflict without feeling bad and guilty and I have to obsess over it and completely think about it and relive it over and over and fuckin' over again. And that's just wrong. Why can't I let myself be fuckin' human once in a while? What the fuck?

So what I'm talking about then is my age old nemesis: Mental Illness.

I am not talking about work. My job already takes up way too much of my time and life. I don't want to give it any more attention than what the greedy bastard demands. And believe me, it is not blameless.

So I'm back to Mental Illness. Ah, what did you do this summer? You found other things to do than torment me, you motherfuckin' son-of-a-prick. Damn this. Damn this.

So what are you going to do, farmboy?

Fight back.

Attaboy!

Fighting back means making the music my life, enjoying the people I love and who love me, and, you know, trying to eat healthy and get some exercise and (laughs) drink water and read good books and fun novels...all sorts of shit, man, all the positive stuff. That's what I mean by "fighting back."

Counteracting the negative with the positive.

Exactly! That's what I'm talking about, man!

Now that...that can give life meaning.

That's what my whole existence on this planet has been made of.