One of many reasons weed and I are good pals…
Brain: Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. How ya feeling? Good? That’s nice. Why don’t you worry about the future a bit though? What’re you gonna do when your feebly funds run out? You know you don’t feel like working because you don’t see a point beyond feeding yourself. You have no goals. You suck. You need a reason to be. A raison d’être. You should find it. No, like right now. NOW.
*Starts googling random shit. Thinks volunteering at an animal shelter while in Cabo sounds like a nice start. Googles animal shelter. Finds address. Google maps. Hour walk from where I’m staying… in 40 degree heat. Can’t afford constant cabs. Want to volunteer. Never ending riddle. Stress levels rising. Starting to be convinced that if I can’t volunteer at an animal shelter in Cabo then I will have officially failed life. Doom.
Friend smokes me up.
Brain: Sure, you need to find your reason, but you aren’t going to find it on Google at 1 am today just because you want to. You’ll figure it out, or you won’t, but none of the answers are coming this instant. Go to bed, idiot.
Damn it, brain. Behave.
Travel anxiety and depression are very, very real.