Thursday, January 29, 2009
After being confronted with the serious problem that I had just spoken to two bunny's about an imminent war between heaven and hell being played out and that I was supposed to be a major force in the coming fight, I was faced with a much more important issue. I was out of weed, those dirty fucking rabbits cleaned me out. How the fuck am I supposed to sleep without getting stoned after being told that I along with my best friend were heavens hope? Me? Fuck I can barely take care of myself what fucking asshole's would pick me? Who the fuck do these guys upstairs think I am? Where were these cocksuckers when I struggled through broken bones, broken dreams, and broken up vicoden? When I need help fuck him, when they need help they tell me by way of two fucking bunny's? I'm not one to get overly angry (blatent lie I like to tell myself and people around me, though it's become easier to manage) but what the fuck? I finally started to live a life I was proud to have as my own (on the big scale my life isn't shit but it was mine to do with it what I wanted, and thats more than 99% of the populations can say, how many people can honestly say they are living the life they want to? Ahh no hands?.) As I lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly, deeply, deliberately, letting the smoke surround me in small curling rings the cherry seemed to grow at a rate that meant that it was happening again, these fucking episodes. Soon i would be having a panic attack again unless i popped a couple of xanax and focused my breathing. What the fuck kind of player in a holy war has to worry about addiction and panic attacks were the last things that drifted through my mind as my body and mind slowly succumbed to the warm loving chemical embrace of xanax that had escaped my real life for far too long.