Having a cup of chai, a 125mg cannacap and reading Ulyssess chapter 4. feels good. how's your night

Finished a gruelling shift at the library where I work.
>watching little old ladies reading mills and boon
>dealing with the welfare people and disabled people who can't even read
>having to teach a middle aged lady how alphabetisation works
>get patronisingly told that I probably like YA fiction because I'm 18 and wouldn't be interested in literature.
>pretty shit night all round tbqh.

I've been having like a quarter life (well, I'm a bit past 1/4 of the way) crisis due to knowing how hard I fucked up my life. Been having these racing thoughts in my head for about an hour and I feel like my heart may explode from my chest. Genuinely contemplating jumping in front of a train at some point.

>picture for captcha has train tracks on it
Jesus Christ...

You okay?
It'll be alright. Just drink some kind of warm drink, tuck yourself into bed and read something comfy.

Sit tight kid. It gets worse by the time you're halfway through life. Then again, you might already be there, or perhaps 3/4 or 9/10 through. Where did you get the idea that you've still got three times as much? Some nice food for thought for your next panic attack.

I'll probably be okay but I really need to get my life in order. If life is a camping trip, most of my peers are already at the site, unpacking their belongings; I'm still at home trying to figure out what the fuck "camping" is.

Sorry to blog.

>edit

I remember when I was in your place, kid. I started off late too and, as you said, everybody was already camped and settled by the time I got there. So I decided to walk on. Now I've travelled way farther from home than their shitty camp site ever was. I've taught myself to live off of berries, tadpoles and owl droppings. I've learned to survive naked and enjoy it. Now I haunt other people's campsites and hide in the bushes waiting for their daughters to go for a pee. I spill my seed on the ground and howl at the glowing moon. I then feel reunited with the same cosmic energies that pulsed through the souls of my literary forefathers: Thoreau, Whitman, Ginsberg. I guess what I'm saying is: 1. Be yourself one step at a time, and 2. Leave more beer at the bottom of your cans when you go camping. Better still, just leave all your thrash behind. P.s. Nothing personnel, kid.

Go spend some time in the wilderness. If you're around 20 y/o and have money/parents with money do a NOLS course it'll set you straight real talk bro dude man dog

Cuppa horlicks, tramacet and part 3 of on the road

>reading on DMT

Exam in seven days and I haven't studied anything.
Studying shit right now.

Been up 30 hours writing essay I subitted prety sure the dude hates me and is going to wipe his ass with it desu

Gonna watch this comfy as fuck prolefeed documentary in bed
youtube.com/watch?v=BsKyEckDRbo

drinking café au lait, doing some work on excel and hoping there'll still be time to read this night