Sweet, sweet alcohol. I love you

I was so depressed last night. Poor me, poor you. Poor fool who thinks your life sucks. Shit, I’m sick of pity. I’m buzzed. I drank a cup of Jack, now I feel good. I can’t help but wonder how long this will last. 10 more shots and I’ll want to die. I have an extra big bottle tonight. Manipulation has always done me so much good. I know my habits, drink and feel good, drink more feel okay, drink too much want to die. I have too much alcohol in the fridge. Way too much alcohol for one man to handle. Blah blah blah. Isn’t that what all of us are really saying? Shit that no one really will understand, we’re just pleading for someone to get what we mean. In the end, some of us will mature. Look at all your friends, family, people who have dealt with drugs, alcohol, and suicide… 10 years later, they fuck their wife, have a few kids, everything is perfectly fucking fine. They look back and ask, what the fuck was I thinking?

I’m no longer a teenager. I’m a grown man. Not some fucking 14 year old ****** craving attention from my ***** parents. I try my hardest to avoid attention. I cut myself, praying to God no one sees it, not flaunting it hoping someone asks, Oh what’s wrong?

All I can say is fuck you. Fuck you and your problems, fuck me and my problems, fuck everyone who’s ever wanted to die. I’m weak. You’re weak. Maybe we should all grow up. Mature into the fucked up naive shits that the rest of society is. Sadness is fucking useless. Emotion in general is fucking useless. That’s why I love alcohol. I can be angry for a few minutes, then be involved with something completely different, feeling great as hell, and not even think about anything to the morning.

So my advice to anyone who thinks they want to die, don’t kill yourself. Do what all the real Americans do, get trashed have fun and forget about everything. At least you can die from liver damage than suicide. Because somehow, cancer is more socially acceptable than slitting your wrists.