I know this is short. Only about 500 words. I’m not the best writer……at all. So if this sucks I don’t want to have wasted too much time on it.
It’s during the long lonely nights when you’re sitting behind the glow of the computer, a cigarette burning in the ash tray, and a half glass of whiskey and melted ice next to an empty bottle, that your mind begins to drift and you can catch a glimpse into the darkness and most unexplored parts of your inner subconscious. You’re come upon the solutions to problems you didn’t know you had, and realize problems you thought you had the solutions to. The worries that drifted away when the bottle was still have full come flooding back up, just as you know the whiskey soon will. These will be the memories of the night you hold onto for morning, not the hundreds of mindless websites you look upon, the late night tragedies breaking the headlines of CNN, or the worthless conversations of old acquaintances you hardly speak to on some instant messaging program. And when you finally awake to a churning stomach and pounding head you being to regret the night. It’s not because of your slowly failing liver, or the amount of brain cells that you could still have, but because the escape had only been so temporary. You have returned to a pile of shit twice as high. How long will you continue this short-lived retreat?
The booze and drugs are only giving you a temporary hideaway. It’s not worth it. Is it? Perhaps. Perhaps that is all you need to keep yourself going. Once the day begins things no longer seem as bad. You do the daily routine and you find comfort in it. You shower, you go to work, you take your break, you come home, you eat dinner, you watch T.V… There’s still something missing though. Something that always makes you walk to the corner store and buy that bottle. Self-medication. What are you medicating anyways? You’re tired of the same old dull routine. But isn’t it that routine that gives you comfort? Maybe you don’t want comfort. Maybe that’s not how you’re supposed to live your life. You’re tired of the same old dull routine. What a fucking cliché. This is life. You have to just deal with it. The bottles half empty by the time you’ve reached the house. No. There aren’t any rules to how you’re supposed to live. Wash a few pills down with what’s left in the bottle. Take one up the nose. Light another cigarette. Get your ass to bed before you start to think again. You need to say it out loud. Tell yourself you’re going to do it you damn bitch. Don’t pussy out now. This is what you want deep down. You know it.