Once upon a time I didn't feel this way.
I'm not sure when it happened, but it did, and then here I am.
Sitting and wishing I could sleep but knowing that I've slept too much already and that it really doesn't help. It doesn't help at all.
Doctors call it a depression.
Rehab calls it 'post-acute withdrawal' and then says that recovery need be as long as the addiction. The binge. That last big bender.
I don't think I could handle four years but I guess it doesn't start with that. It starts with today right now and that's a hard fact to get over.
Right now, today, everything is too loud. Everything is one my last nerve. Everything is something-something I'm a big whiner and complainer because even if it was all sunshine and rainbows I'd complain that it's too bright and that the colors clash.
You can't match outfits to a rainbow.
On one hand people say it's okay to feel things. Feel mad. Feel sad. Feel angry that sometimes when I type I think a word and my hand types something completely ducking-I mean-fucking different. Usually a combination of the next word to come. Usually. Sometimes. Too much DMT and LSD and MDMA and shit that used to be fun.
Discretion is the key I've told myself. One day at a time and stick to that. Except don't stick to it when you're feeling like shit and all because you'll end up thinking about using some feel-good or maybe drink some down too. But because 'tomorrow' is a real thing that eventually comes that won't work. It used to. Not anymore.
Remember when drugs used to be fun?
Some people say no that's just what you believed.
Bullshit. No one started using and kept on because it was bad. It WAS fun. But tomorrow always came and it always got a little bit worse and one day all the fun in the world wouldn't take away from the fact that your life is shit and is headed towards more shit because you can never have enough money to pay anything when you want to.
Quit talking in the second.
MY life is shit. I never have enough money or peace of mind.
Give me one more week. Just one more week and I'll get paid and then I can pay you and the dealer for last week's fronts and for next week's fix. Next week's fix becomes tomorrow's fix and well here we are again.
So what do I do?
Enjoy today if it's only feeling good and look for a better tomorrow when I feel like crawling underneath the bed. Not to die. Just to feel smothered. Covered. Maybe protected.
I'm tired.
But I'm tired of saying that too, aren't I?
Tired of being tired and bringing in the clich‚s on choke-chain leashes. Life isn't a cake walk. You can't bury pain. Tomorrow always comes and it can be better. But how many times have I said that? How many of those days have been good? A few I suppose. Not a lot.
We tell ourselves hey we've got an incredible mind so why the hell am I being drug down by weariness of the body? Weariness of the soul? Maybe that's why I used so that as long as there was more up than down that it'd level out somewhere in between and then I could finally be that robot I've always wanted to be.
Input: Shit
Output: Good times
That doesn't add up and is the kind of equation that would have me think that I'd be better off not using. Again, it used to be fun. Now it's just a reminder of the fact that I'm weak and that the only way to be stronger than this is not to do anything because fuck--I KNOW I'm better than this feeling. I know I have a better life. I'm just out of order. That's all.
Out of order.
Do not use.
Out of order; please do not use.
I'm too hard on myself but that's because I know I'm imperfect, but even that's a lie.
Cause I'm human. Nothing more.
Not good or bad.
Not evil or great.
Just a human. Humans make mistakes. Humans are imperfect.
So that little equation of logic. By being imperfect that makes me a perfect human. Clever little catch-22 with a side of suck-it-the-fuck-up.
Maybe I am hard on myself.
But maybe it's cause I know I can handle it.
Or maybe it's just some delusion that'll break down as soon as I don't have the energy to work myself out of a state of mind that I've worked into my memory in the way muscle memory works itself.
The mind is tethered to the body. The soul to the mind. If the body can't keep its fucking act straight then eventually the shit works its way up the chain. The body can only handle so much booze/grass/coke/dope and the mind can only take it for so long and then the soul gets withered and torn.
Or something poetic like that.
Maybe I'm just annoyed by people?
In the most arrogant sense I hold myself to a standard of perfection that even I can't uphold. I see people yelling and being obnoxious and arguing for the sake of arguing and playing Mr. and Mrs. Pedantic on semantics that don't even matter and CHRIST would it be such a goddamned fucking crime to set it down for aside for once?
How dare you demand the rules be changed when I've silently followed them all along.
How dare you have zero respect for yourself and others when it's something I have to force every day.
Being human shouldn't be effortless for YOU. You don't fucking deserve it.
I don't fucking deserve it.
How DARE you be happy when I can't even get up in the morning or look at myself in the fucking mirror without hating everything that I see.
How do you do it?
Is it denial?
Is it naivety?
Stupidity?
How can you not see that we're all in a world of shit we've created and that nothing is okay?
Not that it's illegal to be a moron so I guess I could drop it since it doesn't really matter and I'm a nobody who is never going to change your mind.
But then there's this fear. This horrible fear that I must face.
The fear that everyone does know all these deranged facts of the world and are happy anyways because they can say "I don't care. I don't care because what I'm doing now makes me happy."
What?
What do you mean that's it? That CAN'T be fucking it! Don't lie to me!
Don't tell me I'm strong enough!
Don't tell me I'm good enough!
Don't tell me that beyond all measure I have the strength to not need in order to be happy someone else's love or acceptance or affection or friends or money or things or drugs or sex or everything that I want but don't have and might not ever have and the things I will NEVER have no matter how much I try!
Don't tell me that.
To tell me that would mean that I've been living a lie. That I've wasted time.
That I'm just doing this because it's EASY to sit here and let it consume me instead of getting up to fight, fight, FIGHT FOR ONCE IN MY GODDAMNED LIFE.
BECAUSE I AM WORTH IT.
AND I AM STRONG ENOUGH.
AND I DO, BEYOND ALL MEASURE, HAVE THE STRENGH WITHIN ME TO DO THAT WHICH I HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN TO BE RIGHT.
To tell me that would mean that I don't need to have a happy childhood to have a happy adulthood.
That I don't need money or the world handed.
To tell me that would mean that happiness and confidence isn't found but merely created by saying that
I will not let this get me down.
I will keep fighting.
That ice water bucket feeling to the face when I realize that sometimes it's hard to be confident.
It's hard to be happy.
But it can be created. You have to take what makes it. You have to get up off your ass and take it. And that's a hard fucking fact to face to realize that's what it takes. You have to quit being lazy and quit convincing yourself that you're not worth the effort to be happy.
Quit being lazy.
Quit referring to it in the second.
I need to quit being lazy.
I need to get mad and take it.
I'm going to take it because I can no longer take what's here.

I'm getting up off my ass and cutting the bullshit and going for it. I may be back here in this spot and in this feeling. Maybe tomorrow. But for now I'm getting up and going for it. I won't stay in this place. I refuse to. I hate it too much. If I'd climb a mountain to get out of this place, then why can't I climb the one in my mind?
There is no why. Sorry partner.
Yeah, I'm a special damaged snowflake. There's thousands of me. It no longer means shit and all it's good for is harping on when I go on about a shit life. Look where it's gotten me. It's gotten me here.
And that's it. No special clause or cause. And that sucks. Really. Cause that means there's no excuse not to be happy.
So fuck it. If I truly say I don't care about anything then I don't care about the shit that I or other people say makes me worthless.
Arrogance. Selfishness. Narcissism. Things we shy away from. But you know I'm thinking I and maybe everyone else could use a big dose of all of 'em when it comes to chasing what we want cause obviously living in this faux-altruism where we wait for the cosmic payoff doesn't do anything. I'm brushing off the reflection that tells me I'm tired and not worth it. I'll take these things and turn them inward so I can meld them into self-worth and confidence.
If I truly say that my pain makes me worthy of something more than what I have now then by God as my witness I deserve to take every damned ounce of happiness and courage that I want without a single fucking please, sorry, or thank you.
It's mine and I'm going to take it.

I'm going to go for it.
I'm going.
I'm going.
I'm gone.