The curtain fell again and the stage bristles with pitfalls.
Like the ant trapped inside I scuttle the peripheral surface area constantly reattempting to make a prolific abscondence. As the insects futile attempts indicate I have to realize sometime that beating around the bush does not occasion results.
The question burning implies another imminent defeat.
The storm outside presses sharply against the window and through the masonry tries reaching my absence of mind.
Just one step through the door exposes my frailty, but Boreas is a wimpy cold breeze when confronted.
Evading and dodging his main characteristics while faced with slight but formidable demurral. I should be the minuscule creature in the wind, am however the raging roar echoing through a wannabe cyclone.
Why do I retreat to mind-altering substances?
I was very close accepting the leading opinion, concerning my defect or whatever the fuck is wrong with me, that granted me a diagnosis, a treatment and a framework to pursue my journey.
After a perfunctory research the following conclusion was reached.
The diagnosis is pure guesswork. The treatment therefore a presumptuous stab in the dark, yet a stab directly into my head and conclusively being.
I highly doubt, that I will place myself at the disposal of laymen to further accredit a science in its early development stage, equipped with an insufficient tool kit regardless if diagnostic or therapeutic approach.
I am pissed and I believe rightfully so. But then again, the one who is agitated always believes in the legitimacy of his claim.
A substantial, requisite amount of time I took antidepressants as . They have been a blessing, a true blessing. I do not feel in growing paucity. I acknowledge others sentience, but not my obligation to grant this cognition with reaction.
Is this what I should do?
Give in to my sociopathic tendencies and be, what my indifference, lack of remorse and languidness proposed for so long?
Somehow my instincts do not comply with this solicitation howsoever alluring and beguiling it may seem. Not unexpectedly I still urge to sense and be under the whim of emotions.
Therefore I take drugs. The intake itself does not bless me with sense. The generation of resistance have prevented that sensation a while ago. The drying out and withdrawal by contrast does.
The symptoms are amazing. It is a roller coaster of random reminders, initial sparks to despair, agony, nostalgia and a blunt instrument to the head.
The next few days are kind of predictable and simultaneously vague. There will be deprivation of sleep, like I partied all weekend. There will be stains of blood on the sheets and a mattress wet through with perspiration like I got laid all weekend. The rest is filled with ordeal, elation and or regret like I lived all life.
This will be par for the course a wild ride .
There will also be restraint. After all these times, I know the drill. Things leave, I stay that is the way it was always played.
That is what I take drugs for: Withdrawal.
Withdrawal is my only sensation.
I finished the song. I did not forget. Good for me. Perhaps I am able to show it to you very soon.
Have a great weekend and stand upright