We can all put our selves to death any time we wish. I imagine executing yourself involves going though each of the autumn lit, gauzy suites of our egos and deciding after taking inventory of the draperies , the furniture, and the bedroom to get the fuck out of here because the pain is just too much to take.Way too much.

I envision a one-a-day /24 hour tab of vicodin mixed with hash and xanax to give me the life I’ve sought since the day I was born. Happiness lasts but an eyeblink when compared to the fires of depresion that burn the insides of my stomach and scramble the ability for my brain to compose itself into some kind of coherent order.Endure this day after day, every day of your life and wonder why I anguish over the feasibility of continuing to suffer this devasting internal poison.

My therapist says depression is anger turned inward. I go farther than that. My inward has no destiny, no fragrant islands to rest upon in the scorch of the mid-morning rising of the tropical sun, just a vast burning horror that won’t go away no matter how many prescription drugs I slather all over my insides.

I would choose addiction over the pain I experience within myself when faced the dread of having to live on for another day of uncertainty and gloom facing an impending realization that I may be coming to an abrupt finale to my current scam of not having to work very much while making an above average amount of money. I have a mortgage and bills to pay and no idea how to accomplish that without tugging a sky mask over my face and heading for the nearest Federally Insured Depository.

But that takes intense planning and devotion that I don’t have. If I think about the details for even a moment, I get a headache and start to stiffen up and lose the energy I summoned just before that. It would be nice that at this point in my life I could turn off the lights and go sleep for a while. And I don’t buy into the bologna that suicide travels with travel vouchers full of of bad karma. Wheres the proof? Why? Because some hash freak from India with a beard a foot long says so?

For those about to end their lives voluntarily, I salute you. Living in this rather boring and expensive reality lets me know that something much more worthwhile of your talents is just up the road a bit. I can’t vouch for the wonderment that awaits in the next incarnation, but it’s got to be a lot less illogical and insane as this one.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 13th, 2008 at 8:20 pm and is filed under Stuff I know. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.