An addiction to something only tells us how something was seriously lacking or missing in the world our eyes see. But with some guided help, I was finished with my addictions. Not “kick it” cause that implies the detrimental aspects, but finished because I no longer required their services. You know what I mean?
Our minds are capable of so much more than we are aware of, imagine if they worked together.
Once, I faced a coyote with only a meter between us. I didn’t wince nor was I afraid. Another time, I saw a mountain lion maul a friend’s chihuahua, but I wasn’t afraid. The only thing I was afraid of was to have my friend catch me hold back my laughter. I never think of chihuahuas as dogs. There was one time I was on the freeway in a mate’s car, thoughtlessly looking at a man in an SUV before he crashed head on into a stalled car in the far lane, ending in an 8-car pile up. Nothing. I found another driver to look at. I had a knife pulled on me once, and enforced how much I still wasn’t wrong about something stupid. There was a guy along with his gun who thought I was someone else at some dark, dingy dive bar. My voice almost trembled at that one. I’ve seen some frightening things but nothing compares to a woman’s love. The daintiest bottoms I know can’t reach the terrifying level of fury a woman can, and they know a thing or two about getting into character. In the end, only a woman has this angelic potential that her lover can’t reach, can’t assume. But it can be touched. Delicately. However, she also has the potential to become a demon to the lover if the lover falls from her favor. She can do all of this without knowing she is doing anything. That’s what scares me at night.
At times, I feel like a convict. It is difficult for to participate in the daily push and grind like I used to. Well, back then when I was younger, with a better metabolism and boundless curiosity, I felt I had my future in front of me. Of course there is no exception that I was to have taken those years for granted, as is the charge for most people. Now that I’m older, the word cholesterol incorporated into my universe, and most of my questions answered -I have to live. Life now feels like a sentence I must serve from a fraudulent conviction.
I’m not angry nor am I depressed. I wish I were sometimes because of the fun pills they give you. But like most citizens of my country, I don’t have health insurance. There’s always the odd Mary Jane facility scattered around Los Angeles, but Mary Jane was never good to me. It was never an enjoyable experience when we were together, so I split. Then there’s the street pharmacist that’s got the upper hands. They’re dealings are more frowned upon because movies made them out to be villains almost all the time. Funny thing is most of the actors in those movies usually had the upper hand. Until the 1920’s that stuff was more like cognac and caviar.
I know what it is. It’s the masses that bother me. They really stress my sentence more than necessary. These days everyone’s goal is to get a degree, doesn’t matter which, to convey that they can take orders and think inside their specific box of expertise -just so they can enlist in the army of managers, as Huxley once quipped. The taste of power is begets an even worse addiction than any pharmaceutical debaucheries. They steal the best years of everyone’s lives, and that’s somehow okay. Okay. They call it capitalism or something and say it’s a right. Or was it a privilege, I forget.
I really don’t mind, though. A life is only worth something if it is lived for someone else. To the enslaved workforce they’re worth something to the managers, but to the slave they’re worth something for their wives, or husbands, or kin. Just for the right to live. I don’t think it has to be that way, but I didn’t enlist anywhere, so my words have no clout. So they say, at least. I don’t mind because I don’t really have someone to live for. Not even some thing, like a cause or whatever. It wasn’t a choice for me. Then again, it really isn’t a choice for most. Until I find someone, or some thing, I will live with decadence until death because it truly is the only way to respect one’s own livelihood. Who knows, maybe decadence was the intention for humanity all along.