dawn

You double dose, because you know.

“You can’t decide to take meds, for your brain, and continue to put substances,,in your brain”

That’s dumb as fuck.

You’re just making it harder on yourself.

And there’s no one to pray to, and everyone wants you to fail.

And you’re surrounded by children.

Small minded, conflict seeking, ego driven little children.

You don’t fuck with them, and because of that fact, they want to see you fail even more.

They’ll put effort into fucking with you,, trying..

So there’s all this external…

You clock out, you head home, you open the door to your other half of life,,and it’s dogshit.

SO you dose.

You escape..

To get away from those hating ass motherfuckers, to avoid your reality.

You shower and as you clean yourself, the soapy hand brushes across your genitals..

“I don’t even feel like it”

I don’t even feel like beating this dick..

All that’s in my head is the small life forms pointing out my mistakes..

Constantly.

There’s no time for daydreaming or a stroll down memory lane…

“I’d prefer to be dead right now”

So you redose…

Then you’re high and the mood dips, as you expected it to. Spiral into yourself and if someone tries to help?

If they try to reach out , if they request a curious connection to “you”…

(You’re not really there)

I’m not.

Even my conversation is on autopilot.

I’m not even here.

I’m listening, I’m taking in what we’re talking about,,

But I’m not here.

ANd that’s the shittiest of the shitty.

Nothing moves.

Nothing progresses.

I’m tied to a dollar so people’s drama and gossip and bullshit office politics affect me.

Because I’m a slave.

Everything in my past is failure, all relationships or genuine “tries”.

I’ve been checked out for….probably 6 years…

So you get high.

Better than drunk, but still a crutch.

Misery motherfucker.

In the depths!

And you can’t talk to God, and Buddha tells you it’s all illusion, if Satan were in control? he’d be cool with me beating my dick..

Nothing.

Narfin.

SO you triple dose.

And you smoke.

And you don’t feel like doing a goddamn thing.

No music.

No nothing.

You don’t have to long for anything,,,

(Anything but…)

Getting the fuck OUT of this.

Leaving this headspace…

Fucking chains…

And it’s all on you.

Can’t do shit until you figure it out…

(Eureka)

I start these pills tomorrow.

Cause I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t lose anymore days,, I’m deep into time debt…

And I believe , that if my head was right, I could stand up on my own.

And walk.

Grab these nuts and stroll down the avenue.

Play the soaring notes and singing melodies I got in me.

The spirit in the testicles…

(And then?)

Then….

Maybe the universe will see.

And the spirit will be given peace and blessings.

God might forgive me for talking all that hard bullshit.

Buddha might grant a revelation and I’ll see how wrong I’ve been doing it..

Maybe I could help someone else.

And cats.

ANd All of this will be in the rear view.

All of it..

And the diary got me through.

Then you’ll forgive yourself and laugh at how stupid you were.

ANd you’ll be able to be happy.

Managed expectations, but still better than this.

So I’m grateful for the encouragement and the ones that actually are encouraging.

ANd fate might be real.

And maybe it had to be this exact way…

ANd in that, I’ll understand, and I’ll have satisfaction, and I could share what I learned with others..

Motherfuckers.

How…do i stop hating you cocksuckers??

It was like this before we started,

Even before the internet..

I don’t know how to fix that.

You’re not the cause of my problems…

But you’re still massive pieces of shit..

Massive.

You know it and I know.