Blue Sleeping Pills

I’m not entirely sure how to start this. It’s a problem I rarely have, but right now I have so many thoughts flying through my head that I don’t even know where to start.

It’s hard to put my finger on why I even want to write about any of this. No one can really do anything to help me. I can’t be sure that getting it out into letters will do anything to make it better. Maybe writing is just instinct to me now.

My day kind of blew.

I spent most of my day wishing I could get hammered.

In case you’re just tuning in, I’ve had some issues with addictions to damn near everything. I stopped drinking two months and 20 days ago.

The rest of the day I spent trying to convince myself that I really don’t want to get hammered. I don’t want to wake up hung over and hating myself. I don’t really even want to get plastered, I just want something to make all the bad parts of my life go away.

As I spent my entire day pissed at the world and at my being in it, I looked back over my life. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve always had ways of coping with the shittier parts of my life. When I was a kid I had my imagination and friends and TV. Then I got older and got into music, then into drugs, and was a drinker up until July 18th.

Now for the first time I have no means of coping and no means of escape. Some would say that’s good, but I don’t think so. Being sober and chained to reality doesn’t make reality better any more than escaping it does.

The world has seen quite a few videos lately of people taken hostage by terrorists in Iraq. The hostages have been made to plead for their lives, which they’ve done fairly convincingly. They cry and beg and plead with all they have because they know what’s coming and they want to live.

Somewhere inside, I want to live too.

I want to be happy. I want to enjoy life. I want to be able to look on my existence and be satisfied. I want to be able to honestly care about the people in my life. I want to have no need for coping mechanisms. I want to be free instead of being held hostage by life.

Yet once again, I want the things I can’t have.

It would be so easy to just give in and say “Fuck it.” It would be easy to find a bottle again and try to run away. Going back there would be like going back to a long, lost lover and spark up an old flame.

I don’t want that though. I just want it all to stop. I want all the shit in my life to stop and I want to be able to be happy. I want to forget. I want to be innocent and naïve and content.

Then again, it’s probably far too late for that. Perhaps I’ll have to just settle for being a suicidal drunk.

I’m really sick of all this.

*
“Twenty-one blue sleeping pills in my gut
Twenty-one blue sleeping pills
Suck them down
Fall on the ground
Twenty-two blue sleeping pills in my gut…”