Nonsense

Fifty-two shades of fucked up is how to describe the effects of the medication.

It’s got me wondering about leaving others worse instead of better than when or where you found them. I’m staring at the distressed wood that makes up my desk and wondering if it was chosen subconsciously.

I was driving an 18-wheeler and pulled over around 2am to check into a cheap hotel for a nice shower and a few hours of sleep. When I woke up couldn’t find my keys so got frantic and called Lyft to take me to where I was before I’d taken possession of the semi.

The fucked up part is that I’d given the Lyft driver the address of where the truck was parked as the destination. “Am I looking to get dropped off across the street?” he asks.

Maybe I knew what I was doing cause the keys were locked in the rig.

These pills suck.