HTDY p. 2: Misery’s Love/Hate Relationship with Company

Whether you purposely sought out subject material of this nature- I’m terribly sad for you if that’s the case- or you just happened to be browsing through WordPress and decided to take a gamble by clicking the link that brought you here, I would like to say welcome, and a happy new year to you. Now that we’ve got that obligatory statement out of the way, let’s be real for a moment and come to the terms of reality about the new year. New Year’s day is perhaps one of the most arbitrary of holidays; I mean what are we even celebrating? The human race survived another orbital rotation around the sun without erasing its own existence via nuclear weapons? Well shit, maybe that is a cause for celebration. Aren’t we due for another mass extinction within the next millennia or two? I like turtles.

Without providing a logical or even slightly meaningful segway into the topic I’ve decided to ramble about publically- much like the mentally disturbed vagrant I’m surely destined to become- I’ll just jump right in! Please take heed of these idiotic thoughts, as you could find yourself in my position someday. Sure, there could be worse outcomes in life; but when I contrast this version of me with the motivated, intelligent, hopeful, and financially independent version I was not too long ago, it’s enough to make me want to take a very long nap on the railroad tracks.

But not all is lost, and I can still turn this course of action in the direction of success! At least that’s what I told myself at the beginning of 2018. What makes 2019 different? nobody but myself is asking, and the answer is absolutely nothing. If anything, the odds are stacked against me even more. But this positive delusion I indulge in from time to time has kept me going, and is going to give me the strength to grab 2019 by the neck with the tenacity of an applehead chihuahua and hopefully only repeat the same mistakes like once or possibly twice at the most. But ladies and gentlemen, I digress…

Aside from the many things that addiction has stolen from me, Lady H has been kind enough to supply me with a plethora- yes I said fucking plethora– of shifty, villainous characters with questionable morals I am unwillingly pushed to cohort with. I’m talking straight chaotic evil type sociopaths who will smile and look you in the eye just long enough to distract you from the knife that they have skillfully shoved in your back. Most of them are afflicted with the same curse I allowed into my life, and there’s some who were born to capitalize off the demanding nature of this addiction. I have met some assholes who I believe downright relish in the despair and misery of others- and what better place to find an outlet for feeding off the pain (and bank account) of your fellow man or woman than in the presence an addict searching for his or her fix? Now I’m not saying all dealers are like that, some are simply trying to put bread on the table or feed their own addiction; but at a certain point every drug dealer has to come to grips with the painfully obvious destruction being caused by the wares they peddle and either turn a blind eye to it or embrace the sadistic nature of the game they are a part of. Let’s be honest and recognize how comparatively tame this level of malevolence is at this level of the supply chain to those who provide these substances and the people they work for. Can you imagine beheading being a very real possibility for the cause of your death? For some of those further down the line, that is a way of life.

All that murderous mischief is miles away from my daily routine, but addiction has swayed me to associate with people who would step on your face to get their next fix. Dealing with people of this nature can be thoroughly exhausting. I constanty need to be aware of how others can exploit even the slightest weakness on my part. For one to take up that kind of lifestyle, one must be emotionally damaged to start with, and therefore have many such weaknesses to exploit.

When I was in recovery, I learned a common behavior among addicts is isolation. That kind of makes sense since the destructive pattern of binge using/drinking addicts engage in isn’t typically seen as socially acceptable. So who else is left to interact with but those of a like mind, who share similar emotional injuries without a contructive means to repair them? Indeed their coping mechanisms only further distort reality until “normal” is so fucked up that any sane person has abandoned all hope of swaying the addict back into the realm of normal normal, instead leaving them in the turbulent waters of fucked up normal. There comes a point when the sane person must save themselves from drowning alongside their once esteemed friend. This scenario is common enough that almost every seasoned addict will tell you the same story- the details differ, but all the variables are there. So who does that leave? A bunch of fucked up people doing fucked up shit, in a fucked up world, that’s who.

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