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Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Microstory 1828: All Messed Up

This is my own fault, and I know it, even if I don’t know much right now. I can’t even tell you everything I’m on at the moment, though I can make a few guesses. I suppose you wanna know how it is I ended up at this point in my life, huh? Well, I was taking opioids before taking opioids was cool. The pharmaceutical companies didn’t get me hooked, and I’m not a victim. I knew what I was getting into when I took my first hit. I just kind of thought I was better than that, and would be able to quit if I wanted. Maybe I am one of those people. Maybe I’ve just never truly wanted to quit. Or maybe that’s just an excuse I make to myself to make myself feel better for being too weak to make my life healthy and drug free. A lot of people seem to find their poison and stick to it. One guy likes bourbon, another prefers cigarettes. I don’t really care how they taste, and as far as I’m concerned, they all get you messed up, so what difference does it make? I drink, I smoke, I shoot, I snort. I swallow, I ingest, I place on my tongue, and I rub on my skin. I do it all, which I think used to be a point of pride for me. I’ve never really gotten addicted to one thing. I would say it’s more that I’m addicted to being addicted. I imagine a part of me thinks that no drug can take over my life if I stop using it for a while to focus on other things. But those other things are just as bad, so the result is the same. Again, the taste doesn’t matter if I’m effed up all the time. My real problem is a lack of consequences. Being constantly high meant that I didn’t care how it affected the people I loved. I loved drugs more than any of them, so losing one loved one never felt like such a great loss. Way I saw it, I was always just trading one friend for another.

Money has been absolutely no issue. I unlocked my trust fund when I became an adult, and before my parents could cut me off, they were dead, and no longer had any say in the matter. So I just kept going, because no one could stop me, nor even tried for long. Perhaps they thought I would give up and crawl back to them with my tail between my legs. They overestimated their own value to me, and my own ability to recognize how much better things could actually be if I knew what true happiness was. In the end, I’m sure it’s for the best. Anyone who tried to hold onto some kind of relationship with me would have been dragged down into the depths of hell. I say that like it was something a mysterious unseen force would do to them. It would have been me. I would have dragged them down, and I’m glad they didn’t let me do that to them. So I’m like the only sacrifice. Except this sacrifice didn’t need to happen either. No, I’m not making any sense, but what do you expect from a guy like me? Did you think I would be coherent? I forgot how to do that years ago, and I don’t really care. I don’t care about anything anymore. I wish I could tell you that I wasted my potential, and had a lot going for me, but it would be a lie. My parents didn’t worry about my grades, and I was filled with so little promise that mother didn’t even want me to go into the family business. They just let me coast through life, and this is where I am today. Again, I’m not blaming anyone but myself. I had some pretty great teachers who came this close to steering me down the right path. The reality is that I’m a loser, and I was pretty much always destined to be as much. As I’m sitting here on this dirty couch, I contemplate what to do next. I realize that I could probably call for help before this overdose kills me, but what would be the point? I’ll always just be that guy you used to know who’s always all messed up.

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