Walking. Moving. Breathing.

I am about to leave my apartment to go watch a UFC event at Chad's place.  It will be a nice time-filler, and hey, I'll probably get a bud lite out of it.  This sport brings out a whole different side of me, that a good portion of my guy friends have seen, but only a few girls have been fortunate enough to witness.  It's kind of a wild thing.  I bring up all sorts of ideas from the back parts of my brain (hahahahaha i typed brian on accident. go freakin figure) that come out in stats, memories, and jokes about Joe Rogan.

But that's not really what I started thinking about just now.  As I thought about me going to this event, and leaving afterwards, I had this mental image, a vision, if you will. Me, leaving the apartment, just off of a smashing good joke, laughing it up.  As soon as the door closes, and I am outside alone, my smile immediately fades.  I stand there for a moment, holding the cold doorknob.  I remove my palm, and turn to start walking to my car.  The camera has a shot of me walking from down the hall.  I take my hands and rub my temples and feel my head.  I never smile. In fact, I don't frown either.  I am simply...there.  I sigh as I reach my car and I get in.  I sit there for a moment, and then grab my iPod, put on a Manchester Orchestra song, and I drive home.  I go to sleep.

It made me feel like everything here was just filler.  Going from one event to another, my spirits lifting temporarily, then going back down to a state of nothing once again.  Yeah, I know.  It's a pretty depressing way to talk about life.

I guess I'm just a pessimist.