Pick your poison.
Interesting phrase if you think about it. People talk about making good decisions and choosing the right path, but is that the crueler choice in the end? Stringing yourself along, prolonging the inevitable. Death should be the grandest adventure of all. Every choice we make, every single day, is essentially us picking our own poison. Deciding what we will allow to kill us, and how far off that release is. Some seem to think the ideal poison is simply age. Continuing through the motions until our bodies are too weary to move ahead, organs surrendering from exhaustion. Instead I choose to drown my organs in chemicals that speed the process along, and numb the mind to the trauma and impending hopelessness that lies ahead for all those who choose the “right” path.
I do not wish to die alone in a hospital bed, decrepit with age and exhaustion. I want to burn out, still young and beautiful. I want to die as someone who lived so aggressively that I simply ran out of life in the first quarter. There is nothing beautiful about the illness and loneliness and sadness that accompany dying of “natural causes”. I want to flame out surrounded by people that love me, but people that know that, for example, I know my limits and this was no accident. Is that selfish? Absolutely. But that is my poison. That is my drug. That is the sensation that keeps me coming back for a fix long after I run out of money.
Who cares if I fill my veins to the brim with chemicals, slowly rotting everything beneath the skin. I could slip away unnoticed. Numb. This is the addiction. But really, lets face it. We are all addicted to something. It’s just a matter of vices and which ones are deemed acceptable by society. We have no say in the matter at all. So, we go about our days. We sleep and wake up and survive and sleep again. Then, occasionally, like the dealer missing a chunk when he cuts the batch, we are given small treats. People, passions, even material items, for some, are little sugar cubes fed to us to keep us complacent. They keep us from questioning the norm. They keep us sane, and content with our ration of poison for the day.
Complacency is a life I choose to ignore. I’m sorry you don’t agree with the poison I’ve picked. I’m sorry it is causing controversy for the people I love. I’m sorry I never told you I loved you too. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better role model. So many apologies that I can just drown in a nightcap. I have every intention of waking up tomorrow, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just stay here in the calm, quiet, underwater world. Maybe I will flame out. Because, just like Kurt said, “it’s better to burn out than to fade away”.
I picked my poison a long time ago. Bottoms up, crush me a line, and happy easter.
Literally never been so deeply, genuinely hurt by anyone, ever. Deleted my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, turned off iMessage and am planning to bury myself in a life-destroying Xanax binge. Not that there’s much left to destroy anyways. The worst part is that I’m gonna lose the only person I have left because, no matter what, I’ll always come in second, even to him.
I’m absolutely destroyed. Broken hearted. Unfixable. Done.