Offensive Food For Thought
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Offensive Food For Thought

The Addictive Mind of a Sober Man

Offensive Food For Thought

I have to begin this little entry with a disclaimer to anybody reading it: don’t have fucking thin skin. Life is not an easy place to be and you are lucky to even be breathing at this fucking moment in time. I, for so long now, have had these thoughts that make me confused and apprehensive of this world. People here are all goddamn sheep. Just going with the banal flow and not ever stopping to smell the roses. They stop to smell the shit instead and wonder why the world is the way it is. Think deeper than others. Don’t take shit for face value because I guarantee you that there is more to it than just the fucking wrapper. Continue to dig in life. It’s not nosy it’s how to learn and leave that body of a sheep and explore! We are only here for a sliver of time. A fucking semicolon in the long sentence of humanity. We must stop worrying about the little things. Even as I type that I am kicking myself because I, for some fucked up reason, get a high on the little annoyances of life. I get off on telling off if you catch my drift? Maybe if you are like me this jumbled up excerpt will make some sense to you. I seem to be at polar opposites at all times. All or nothing. Play your hand or leave and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. I don’t have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. I have two devils. One telling me to self-destruct and the other acting as a good samaritan saying “Don’t do it! But if you do, go all the way in buddy and see where the hell you land!”. I enjoy the dark side of life though. It is intoxicating to me and thus the life I inevitably choose. Making all the wrong decisions on the way. Decisions such as “One more pill won’t hurt!” and the infamous “One more drink dude you can handle yourself; you’re the man anyway fuck everyone else!”. Those thoughts are the filth that I live with every day. Especially the “Fuck everyone else” one. I want to live as I want to die: like a fireball about to explode! Why should I be complacent with here and now and this present bullshit? I want to carve my own filthy path through this valley of sheep. I do one thing and say the opposite though. I kept myself numb for so many years and now I am here. I have a clear mind which more or less means my fucked up thoughts are evermore transparent. This is a good thing I guess. I hit rock bottom, but there is always a sub-basement right? I won’t go there but let us all recognize that. You think you hit the bottom however you can dig to fucking China if you really try. I have become cynical over all these years. I observe and focus in on the shit that doesn’t matter. That just causes me to become confused and angry. I have come up with a system of categorizing people: wolves, sheep, and maggots. The wolves go out and get what the want. They will take and conquer and never stop. They keep chasing; they’re bloodthirsty and want power. Wolves push and push and push. They know all the right buttons, the secret formula, the right words to hiss out to get what they want. The sheep on the other hand simply follow. They go through life with their heads down. They do as society tells them. They are simpletons and have to follow the flock or suffer the uncertainty of life. They are afraid to go out of the boundaries of their pitiful “safe space”. They are marching to the same goddamn, cookie cutter beat that the drum of society hums out. Why do anything else when you’ve become so complacent with life? It’s safe and good right? Why allow the uncomfortable ether of this world seep in your lungs when all is jim-fucking-dandy?? Keep the pace sheep you will get to the grave soon enough where the dirges will be nothing more than a cacophony of droning sounds such as that of dial-up internet. Beeping and whizzing and humming. Sounds like a colorful way to live right? We’re not done quite yet! We have the maggots. They are the parasitical beings. They have no room here, but manage to squirm by somehow. They take up space in life. They are a waste of a body. They are nothing more than extras on the set of life. They are scum and contribute nothing to the big picture. If these classifications resonate with you, the unfortunate reader of this, than you are just as fucked in the head as me. Congratulations! You are a part of an elite force of mentally deranged beings. However, we have an important mission. That mission is to find ourselves by destroying ourselves. We turn our bodies into slaves. The drugs are the masters so don’t worry your body will be treated with great care. Master Oxy or Master Xanax are wonderful to their slaves. Or maybe you would prefer Master Whiskey? Or possibly Master Vodka will suit you better? All the while taking congruent orders from the sidekick Mr. Nicotine. Suck down that fucking cigarette! The quicker it enters you the quicker you can light another one and surely it will have an even better effect! Here’s a fucking grand idea for those who are feeling depressed, but still have a bit of thrill seeking in them: bet ya won’t take the pills with the alcohol. It won’t harm you too much. Maybe a trip to the hospital because you over did it. But with modern medicine and a very responsive emergency medical transport team you will be just fine. Like taking a Goody’s powder for a headache after a long night of drinking. It will heal right up with little to no consequences…HA bullshit. My guardian angel is Narcan who generally goes by the nickname Naloxone. I consider him to be a buzzkill. He reverses the high that those wonderful and safe (as marketed by big pharmacy) pain pills provide. Big things come in small packages. Chase that feeling right across a busy highway and see if you don’t get hit by a car. Maybe jaywalk a bit. You won’t get hit for the first several times. No way. It’s safe people do it all the time. Maybe a few close calls here and there. Then you hear that one big story of the dude who jaywalked on I-20 and got fucked by a semi. “But that will never happen to me” you think. That’s the spirit kid! You are fucking immortal! Death is several doors down not your neighbor across the street. Sometimes at neighborhood cookouts you and Death have a cold one together and talk football even. How’s the car you ask him. Kids doing well? What about that damn boss of yours? Then one day Death decides you aren’t that great of a friend. He screws your wife and then takes your sports car out for a spin. Ends up getting your wife pregnant and wraps your Vette around a goddamn Spruce. You wake up shaking violently without a shirt on. You see bright lights and feel needles sticking you all over. “You’re lucky to be alive” you hear someone say. God? No way, Heaven cannot look like this you think. Or maybe you are in the other place. Shoulda gone to church more often. Is it too late now? You pass out again. Wake up in the ICU wondering what the hell occurred. That was quite the party dude! You went out with a bang and a shot to the fucking jugular vein! The story isn’t over yet though! Oh no it’s not that easy! You get put into a looney bin because clearly you want to kill yourself. You feel like you are the sanest nut in that entire establishment. It gives you time to reflect. What is the meaning of life? Is water wet? Why are your thoughts evading normalcy? Be normal be normal be normal walk the fucking line like everyone else and make Big Brother happy. Pray to capitalism and material things! Money will make you happy but we’ll tax you to death. You have to go by the book. You have become tame and now wear the wool of a sheep. Baa baa black sheep. So what’s the moral of the story? The golden egg of the story is this: put your right shoe on your left foot and left shoe on your right foot and walk the way you feel like fucking walking. Sag your pants pull them up under your armpits. Wear that top hat. Tattoo yourself until you look like a modern art masterpiece. Read poetry. Listen to music that takes you back to 7th grade. Look at old pictures. Take a walk on the wild side of life. Spend that $2 bill your grandmother gave you. Make sense to no one except yourself. Fancy that Big Brother. Shove it in their faces tactfully and laugh till you can’t breathe. And if you come across a rare bird that understands you hold on to it. Capture that person and never let them go. They are the special one. The one that makes you feel like there is a place in the world for you and your crazy antics. Cherish the oddity of their soul. The alarm just went off time to wake up.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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