That forward direction

So, man, I'm blowing this popsicle stand. I'm getting released from the hoosegow, the pokey. My days at this joint are numbered, I tells ya. 

I presume you're leaving the rehab center. Am I right, farmboy?

Yep, man. I'm gonna go stay at my brother's house for a while. Hopefully it won't be too long until I can go back to the castle of music and weed, but I can't really say when. This whole ordeal has not been necessarily predictable, man. And it's far from over. But this is another chapter that'll be done, and I fuckin' gotta move on, you know?

That's exciting, farmboy. Are you excited?

Kinda. Excited and apprehensive. I hope it's good. I'm used to living alone, even though I've been in rehabs for over two months. I've been around people more these last couple months more than I've been in years.

How was that?

Okay, I guess. I'm so fuckin' weird, man. I seem to require a lot of alone time. I always have. I used to worry about it when I was a kid, but it's just who I am, I guess. This whole life thing is a fuckin' mystery to me, man.

But that's okay. The main thing now is to keep moving ahead, going in that forward direction.

You seem in good spirits about it, farmboy.

I'm also scared shitless, man. I feel like I'm only gonna relax when I'm back in my old apartment. When I can walk without thinking, without being conscious of every step. That's the day I'm looking forward to.