The Optimist

This band ain't big enough for the bad decisions of the both of us. The dirty dishes are piling up,
to the point that no matter the angle, I can't fill my glass. So how am I supposed to know if I am
still an optimist any more? Lately I've been feeling rough. Is my glass still half full? There is no
way to tell.
I've been hiding away in this space since we played the show on Monday. It was everything that
I dreamt that it could be. I stood on stage with such confidence, singing songs that I wrote in the
very space where I am sat right now feeling opposite. Art shouldn't always be synonymous with
performance. Try writing something beautiful with you as the sole audience. Look after your old
body and be kind to your drained brain. Sleep if you need to, eat well, and understand that it's
OK to do this.
Introversion is not a sin. Interspersed invincibility. Understand that instability will not always
define you. And although it is fine to lean into the parts that make you you, give yourself a little
time to be small, too.
I'm at an eating biscuits for cheese without the cheese level of low.
I've been trying to read, but my attention span was shot back in my teens. I wish it was through
drugs, not just staring at little screens. I'd happily trade some brain cells for some stories. For
some fucking real life memories. Good luck out in the world. None of us are prepared for it. I
rearranged this room to give the illusion of a study. I always said that if this became my job I
would have made it. Now I'm worried about the rent, but I am lucky.