Saturday, December 12, 2009
Suffering Gained Through Exquisite Means...(my intellectual windbag moment)
When I think of being an addict I think back to when it all started, you know, the very first time I got high. Not H, I actually think it was weed, I think...or maybe pills but anyway it's not so much about the specific details but on whether I would change things. Like if I had known what was gonna be the end result, that I would be somewhat bedraggled and in love with a drug that has no capability of loving me back, would I still take that first shot? What do you think?
I hate to imagine what I might have settled for had I not taken that sharp turn at the corner of Heroin and Destiny street. I could be a soccer mom for fuck sake! Or even a *shudder* real estate lady! I have ZERO regrets about the way shit has turned out, I knew how it was gonna be the first time I took that poke in the arm, it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into. I grew up listening to stories about my crazy fucked up dad and his H addiction. I had NO illusions about where I was headed, I just didn't care, I made a choice.
It bothers me on so many levels when I hear people going on about how drugs screwed up their lives, like they had no say in it all. The drugs don't pull the strings baby you do, whether you wanna admit it or not. The drugs didn't make you hock your flat screen, they didn't make you steal your parent's retirement money and they sure as fuck didn't make you suck that dick! YOU did it because of whatever it is that the drugs provide you with, be it comfort, misery or oblivion. There's alot of people who thrive on misery, it's like a black cloud that follows them around and drugs can be the perfect sidekick to that situation. These people are unhappy when they're sober and equally unhappy when they're high. Sad really, what a waste of perfectly good drugs.
Worse even are the ones who refuse any responsibility for their actions. I have a homeboy who will do the most shady crap when he's strung out and then come back and apologize for it when he's clean. Like being a dopefiend gives him a license to be a piece of shit. Fuckin pussy, if he's gonna be an asshole, he should man up and be an asshole 24/7, none of this "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking straight" bullshit!
It's all so mystifying to me, it's like a really stupid form of buyers remorse. You had your fun and now yuo hafta pay the price, no one said it was gonna be easy. Where does it say that Heroin is a safe form of pharmaceutical recreation? Last time I checked, my main man was at the top of the "Stay the fuck away" list.
I must have missed the press release from the International Opiate Association where they stated that shooting smack was 100% safe and had no lasting after effects. What the fuck did you think was gonnna happen, that you would be miraculously exempt from the addiction clause in the H contract? You shoulda read the fine print motherfuckers, 'cause you signed that bitch in blood the first time you stuck that hypo in your arm.
I'm not being heartless, just honest. You may be pre-disposed to addiction but it's still you making the decisions. I understand that people react in different ways when it comes to being dopesick but the reality is that it's not gonna kill you. It's a miserable, seemingly endless process but it does end and going into a spasticated seizure and knocking over a 7-11 is just gonna make your sitch waaaay more complicated.
It all comes down to how you look at things and even though I may have a single minded purpose where my actions are concerned, when shit goes south I still know where the blame ultimately lies. Oscar Wilde said,"We are each are own Devil and we make this world our Hell." I think it's appropriate to this situation but I also take it out of context and apply my own interpretation (what's new right?). Hell is a relative term and can mean so many things, not all of them truly bad. If my Hell is what I've created around me how can I help but adore it? It's an extension of me and what could be better than that? Suffering gained through exquisite means is not made any less wondrous because of it's origin and ultimate destination. It's beautiful in it's simplicity and reduces us to the bare bones of self, we are at our most basic when we hurt. Therefore...how can a Hell comprised of my own nature and design be anything less than...magnificent?
Christ, could I sound any more like a pseudo intellectual, philosophizing windbag? Haha, maybe if I try really, really hard! Perhaps it does sound pompous but that doesn't make it untrue. Take your fucked up addiction and hold it close, love it, pet it, for no one else can lay claim to it but you. It's all yours sugar, as is what you choose to do with it. You can carry it to the grave or you can put it to bed but make no mistake, it's ancestry is clear. There are no branches on that family tree, make it work for you or walk away, that simple and that complicated.
Hmmm, more in love with myself today than ever aren't I? Whatever, it suits me *wink* have an amazing weekend kids, however you decide to spend it.