On Why I Wouldn’t Make a Successful Junkie, Or Maybe Then Again I Would

February 23rd, 2010

The nice part about narcotics is that they make you not care about stuff. I like to not care about stuff. Not caring about stuff is highly underrated. I am constantly caring about things that don’t need to be cared about. This takes the edge off that. But then it also takes the edge off of remembering what day it is, or what time of day, and if you’ve eaten breakfast or lunch, or which nap this is. It takes the edge off of a few too many things, maybe. So thumbs up for not caring, thumbs down for forgetting you’re supposed to care. I tried to cut down on the pain meds today, and guess what? I have legitimate pain. I forgot about that. That pain gets stabby without these narcotics. That’s no fun. Maybe what I really need is to be very wealthy and have a steady stream of narcotics and a minder. Someone to remind me what day it is, and where to sign for more meds. But then again that seems like it’s going to end in my laying in pile of my own waste while my minder does coke off a hooker’s ass in front of my kick-ass entertainment system. I doubt I’d have a conscientious minder. I don’t think conscientious people go into the minding business.

All I know is that I haven’t been going out there, and it’s nice to forget there’s a there that I have to eventually go back out to. There’s no “what’s going on fun out there” since I am not going out there, no matter what fun is to be had. That’s a big relief, actually. I am not missing anything, because I am missing everything. And that’s fine with me. Go away, world, I find you to be unnecessary. I am pretty sure you will still be around when this wears off.