Boredom

I tried to think of some creative things to say. The reality is: there are still nights where I just want to drink until I pass out. There are still times where I wish I could just have some nicotine and block out the world.

It's been almost a year since I quit everything. Being sober is still incredibly boring. Dull.

I wonder if my "problems" were all made-up in my head.

When I'm not sober, I feel like I can reach another place inside myself, another headspace.

I used to be so relaxed. I used to be able to have fun. Now I just worry. Deadlines make me want to set a deadline for my death. Get on the hamster wheel because bills are coming up soon. Win this rat race or you're out. Worry worry worry. If you don't worry, people shit on you for not caring enough. People get upset because you're late, because you submit something late. They whip you. Work faster! Fall in line! Start worrying!

I'm soon to be 24, and still live in the shadow of my father. I still rely on my parents. I still live under their reign. But it isn't as if things would necessarily get better if I became independent of them, because then I'd still answer to some other dickhead, some other cunt. So why become independent? Sure, my dad is a slave driver and my mother is an enabler. But they do provide for me, they do love me in their twisted way, and their love means that they won't fire me for showing up late, they won't treat me like worthless shit for being imperfect. Explain to me how it's beneficial to become independent so that you then have to answer to people who are unempathetic and unforgiving and don't love you. I'll bet you can't.

Now my anxiety controls me. It isn't *me* who decided to stop drinking. My anxiety made me. It isn't *me* who decided to stop doing nicotine. My anxiety made me.

I self-harm. I don't cut myself. I don't starve myself. I've never attempted to kill myself. My form of self-harm is more sophisticated, not that that's something to be proud of. I don't cut myself, but I "cut" other people; I cut them emotionally. I cut them out of my life. I am so lucky to have the friends and family that I do.

I cannot self-harm if I die. I cannot self-sabotage if I die. I cannot continue being tortured if I die.

Whether I drink, or don't drink. Whether I smoke, or don't smoke. I will end up back here. So why did I stop if it's all the same?

I can be sitting anywhere at anytime, blink, and be in Melancholia.

I can open any door I've opened many times before, to my parent's house, to my own apartment, to a classroom, and arrive in Melancholia.

I can fall asleep in my bed and wake up in Melancholia.

This fox is curious. What's the worst that could happen? Doctors say there's nothing wrong with me, after all. Test after test after test. It's all just made-up bullshit in my head. Feeling shitty? Anxious? Panic attack? It's all fleeting. It's all imaginary. There is no reason to be anxious. There is no reason to be having a panic attack. I'm not in danger. Doctors say my lungs are fine. My heart is fine. Everything's fine. It was all... hypochondria.

To dissuade myself from just falling into old habits, I would have to say that I am better-off sober. And as time goes on, the case for that gets weaker and weaker. Sobriety will never compare to that paradise. Drugs are a form of escapism, and it's no fucking wonder. Escapism is considered to be some sort of evil, but there are situations that justify it, such as imprisonment or endangerment. So, if sobriety is a prison, if reality is such that it makes me want to self-harm, then all I've done is take away my only means of escape.

That's all psychotherapeutic drugs do. They just do the same thing that alcohol and nicotine do. They have all the same potential side-effects. Xanax, Coors, Marlboro, Prozac, Wellbutrin, can all cause irritability, fatigue, limp-dick, suicidal ideation, suicide, worse depression, worse anxiety. You build up tolerance to all of them. If you take them for long enough and in significant enough dosage, you have to be weaned off of them. The pro of psychotherapeutic drugs is that they don't seem to cause cancer and destroy your bodily organs. The con is that we don't understand why or how they work.

"Think of your future self." That's meaningless when you don't care whether there's a future you or not. Or especially if you hope there won't be. Maybe I'd be more likely to go to the gym if I stopped tyrannizing myself like a straight-edge tard.

This post could have just as easily been written under the influence of 6 beers.

Ironic that "losing my mind" was all in my mind.