Got kicked out of the writers group. Happened this evening after the meeting. For some season she waited until after the meeting to kick me out. She could’ve saved me the time, just having to sit there through the meeting not knowing. Then getting kicked out over a cigarette outside. I just walked to my car and left. Didn’t go back in to say goodbye to the rest of the group. I’m sure some of them knew I was being kicked out. I went to the bar and sat alone, and for the most part, I didn’t think much about it.
Back at home, I did a little writing and thought it went better than usual. I had the notion that the reason it went better was because I got kicked out of the writers group. I tend to do better on my own, or at least I feel like do. I had a drink and went to bed.
I woke up at around 4 a.m. The candle on the bedside table was still burning and there was a pool of wax under the flame. My head felt a little heavy and I thought that maybe I was a bit hungover or just really depressed. The light from the flame hurt my eyes but I continued to stare at it. For some reason the pool of wax felt like my life. I guess it felt this way because nothing was certain anymore, nothing was set in stone. Who knows though. That’s just what I figured. That’s the easiest thing I could come up with. I blew the candle out and went back to sleep.
I woke up again just before noon and dragged myself to the shower. I let the water run over my head for thirty minutes until the heaviness went out of my skull and my body woke up.