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Sunday, March 30, 2008

A List of Things to Be Afraid of

My head-shrinker always told me that passion is a mental illness. In my low opinion, after the many old age I've spent on this shithole of a planet, anyone who still undergoes turns of sanity after seeing the crap that travels on around them endures from mental illness. I've pushed myself through so much crap that there's just got to be some harm to those delicate think organs. All too often, there would be secret mutters from a deep conscience, "just hold through this... one day, things will be better..." We're all insane; it's all really just a substance of the degree.

Item #1. Never forget... the wretchedness you've had to draw through, like wadding through some crap swamp.

So, I've started a list. A listing of things to remember. Because, as hope jumps eternal, my small mental short letters volition one twenty-four hours melt out; that will just be my encephalon making room for alcohol addiction and disrespectful wonts towards my best friends. One day, I'll be satisfied. There will be good friends all around, a good calling doing whatever (I 'unno... I'm thinking machinist or some such), and plentifulness of good times to be had. And, in that future, that dreaming I falter on when I cruise these sidewalks, I conceive of there will be plentifulness of things I forget. Among those, there is this: the shitty wretchedness I've been through. I'm sure that the working class labor don't necessitate to be told what my life have consisted of. Nine to five jobs, those lovely few calendar months of unemployment when it looks that cipher will engage you, approximately five hundred "just one more than time" diacetylmorphine uses, a short letter or two about love delivered via barroom napkin... Poetic, sure, but wretchedness is poetic. One day, I just desire to be 100% sedate.

Item #2. Never forget... when you're in love, you can't trust yourself.

This is a valuable lesson. And, lessons as they are, this 1 ought to be valued. Sure, people will state you, "Yeah, she fucked you over, but at least you learned from it." But then again, few people only larn their lesson when the broken end of a vodka bottle rakes through their face. Wait, I believe it was a gin bottle... Yeah, it had to be. That was her flavor. We were sitting on the couch, drinking, television, insert typical scene component. My memory of the incident isn't too great. I mostly retrieve the police force military officer asking me, "Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?" For some reason, my head felt like it had calculated the state of affairs with complete efficiency, and that the answer I was giving tantrum like a puzzler piece. "Don't worry! I'll demo you how to tape the super bowl... That videocassette recorder was never really good. We were planning on getting it replaced anyway..." The military officer asked me the inquiry 1 more time, then called for an ambulence. The last thing I remember, she was being dragged away in handcuffs, fighting and screaming. I caught something like, "Fuck you! I never fucking loved you! This was all your fault!" After that, it's all blank. When I got back out of the infirmary and came to accumulate my things (heh), the neighbour told me: "Yeah, you kind of laid down after she was dragged away... You kept saying, 'oh god, oh god,' and material like that. Oh, yeah, and you started crying and were like, 'I just necessitate to put down, please...' Man, you must've been wasted." Oh, that reminds me...

Item #3. Never forget... to acquire a transcript of that police force report.

I'm always funny what the existent trade was with that. Who the fucking knows... Maybe there's a little piece of wisdom I left behind. Something platitude like, "At 4:30 A.M., the victim kept repeating the phrase 'you have got to remember... you can make anything you desire to.'" Once I acquire the police force study (I really can't afford $10 a page right now), I'm sure that I'll be affluent and with friends, and that small spot of wisdom is going to travel a long way. I mean, shit, it might be something that's not so cliche. It might be something practical. I could really travel for a, "Hey, you should really check up on out this wind record album the bulls recommended," or something like, "Vodka and suds don't premix well." I'm pretty certain Iodine won't acquire something like, "When you're in love, you can't trust yourself." That is going to be etched in to my encephalon for quite a few years. Yeah, that's not long enough; hence, this list. Besides, fucking that neighbor. I wager I held up a small better than he describes.

Item #4. Never forget... you cannot outdrink any of the pack members from Hell's Angels.

This, I would wish to think, was actually one of the foregrounds of my life. I mean, how many people acquire to speak about the time they actually got beat down by a bike gang? And not just any bike gang. The Hell's Angels. It started with a bar, a bike pack (Hell's Angels, yes yes), and five gals of inexpensive vodka. It seemed that I became drunk, beligerent, etc., 1 of them insulted me, and I just swung. Like my past experiences with violence, either there was so much alcoholic beverage and drugs or the force was so excessive, that most of the memories of the incident are blurred. Fortunately, I am told, I didn't acquire killed, which was a existent risk, I guess. But, fucking that. Any time you can't -- oh, wait, this should be the adjacent item...

Item #5. Never forget... any time you're afraid of doing something, just because you might decease afterwards, is a time that you officially have got labelled yourself as a pussy. Go acquire drunk and believe about the determination you've made.

Actually, fucking that. I don't necessitate a reminder for that. Maybe I necessitate a reminder on like, getting regular therapy to handle that ideal. But, a reminder for that? Fuck it. Abrasion that fucker off...

Item #5. Never forget... anytime you're afraid of doing something, just because you might decease afterwards, is a time that you officially have got labelled yourself as a pussy. Go acquire drunk and believe about the determination you've made. (I suck. I can't believe I wrote this... sub-item #5: acquire therapy, heh.)

Item #5. Never forget... always do time to acquire wasted with your friends.

This is an of import note. Any drawn-out amount of time during life that makes not include getting off in some manner or word form will first burn, tear, rip, and eventually destruct you. If at any time, you believe you've been sober for far too long, immediately take a drive to the nighest spirits shop and acquire some booze. Friends are a asset in this situation. Even if you have got to fuckin' grade it on your calendar, do certain you acquires wasted with your friends. Whether you make this with an orgasmic game of scrabble, fucking parties, heroin, or plentifulness of alcoholic beverage is your decision. I've done all as a agency of associating with my friends, and I have got to state you, Scrabble fuckin' sucks. It really is good to pass time with people that you can associate with. It's absolutely necessary. It is in these minutes of profound intoxication, forgetfulness, and absolute blissfulness that you acquire such as beautiful exchanges as, "I'll sell you my psyche for a shwill of that beer... and not the underside portion of the beer, either..." to things as interesting as, "I really necessitate to halt killing people; this crap is really cutting in to my schedule..." I'd do another item, not to bury your friends and to always be there for them, but that's A portion of point #5. Actually, to make certain Iodine don't forget...

Item #5. Sub-clause. Never forget... to be there for your friends when they necessitate you.

There have got been some good friends, some bad friends, and not in any manner you might recognize. My best friend introduced me to heroin, and that's not why he's my best friend. And, one of the top friends I ever had (who I'd wish to believe was never my friend), is now my worst enemy. It was because he sided with my household members when they tried to have got an intercession on my drinking. I agreed to listen, so long as I could imbibe Bacardi... and so long as person else was paying for it. That fucker. He was all like, "I don't believe that's A good thought that you imbibe at all." It was his dissension to Bacardi, his resistance that gave my household more negotiating leverage. I finally did do a trade for a six-pack of generic beer, in exchange for hearing time. But still, if I could have got got gotten a bottle of Bacardi, that would have been the coolest intercession of my life. And for that reason, Joe-Bob-Bill (whatever) is now my worst enemy. This, devoted and trustful reader, conveys me to my adjacent item.

Item #6. Never forget... to completely misgiving your family.

There are a few sub-clauses, amendments, and "what if" affrays that come up along with this item, but I'm sure that I'll be able to fully retrieve them all if I ever necessitate this listing of things to remember for advice. I don't really cognize what the state of affairs is, you know, different civilizations all around the Earth with different values and different household relationships, and the manner people even in United States have got learned to germinate and alteration things. I really make believe that your family's silent feelings of you can truly take a very degenerating toll on your mind. For so long, you've been at their mercy. Prejudices, bigotry, hatreds, loves, insufficiencies expressed through fury and violence... All of this is passed to you, not just by factors (if by factors at all), but by the manner your household acted and behaved when you were just a immature tot. I've come up to the very clear decision that your household cannot be trusted. The natural, mental process, the 1 that tells you to always esteem and award your parents' opinion, you have got to interject that with, "They're lying to you." It necessitates to go instinct. So, when you acquire something like, "I believe you have got a drinking problem," your scruples necessitates to react: "They're lying to you." Then, you can reply, "Drinking problem? I name this a drinking solution. Ha! I made you look stupid." This inherent aptitude necessitates to move like a filter. So, you can hear a household member say, "Hey, I believe your girlfriend is violent and you should interrupt up," your scruples travels off sending you a warning, and then your encephalon processes: "Hhhmmmm, they could be right." But, I've already got crazy, psychotic girlfriends covered in point #2.

Item #7. Never forget... to not name your landlord a "cuntfuck" unless you have got a lease.

This point is rather self-explanatory.

Item #8. Never forget... to bury everything you learned in school.

I'm sure that few people would differ with me on this point. Children are herded in to these tremendous buildings. You can't urine without permission. You can't walk without permission. Those who are independent are punished. It's not education. Real Number instruction promotes your head and makes independency for you. When you can't urine without an important figure's nod, you're nothing more than a fuckin' slave. Forget everything you've learned. Those stereotypes you picked up between smoking weed in the bathroom and juggle Numbers in class, that style of life that have you cowering in fear... I could travel on and on. Facts are facts, and this volition always peal true: if you can't bury what you larn from school, you'll be cursed for life. Everything from your calling to your household and your relationships. Fuck school. If you have got any regard for it, then remain the fucking away from me.

Item #9. Never forget... there's always time to change.

I say that's the ultimate point of this of this list. When I look through these items, I retrieve every time I've made a personal resolution, a commandment to myself. And, everytime I believe of those resolutions, I believe about the minutes I abandon them. They look like hard moments. I hear echoes of family, telling me, "That's because you never complete anything you start," or maybe I'm looking at a police force military officer through the parallel bars of a holding cell, listening to the same old argument: "I didn't have got to convey you in here, but I did." For every promise that I've made to myself and broken, I've made another promise. I think that's wherefore I've labelled this, "A List of Things to Be Afraid of." Right now, I believe I'm going to travel out to the barroom with my friends, see if I can outdrink anyone, and see if I can fall in love with some stranger. If anyone ever happens this list, I'll do certain to state them, "Don't take that advice to heart, kid... Living life like that just isn't deserving it." To all the errors I've made, I say the hardest thing I have got to larn is that I can always change.

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For Life,

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