Being ordinary and being happy have nothing to do with each other.
Can you get a fill of life's experiences, to hell with other people, and still end your life with a deep sense of fulfillment?
CAn you be ordinary and be a waste of a life and still be happy at your meaningless end?
EVeryone knows my end will come faster if I drink, whether psychosis will call for me like siren or in the physical sense. I could lose years to a thought disorder, losing friends, money, all helped by vodka.
I could drown myself to faceless death.
Some days it feels like it wouldn't matter--shot or no shot--but this is the depression over my shoulder bullying me around.
I quit opiates without looking back. I sigh at people who won't because of the withdrawals.
Drugs make you ordinary because there are a separation because you and people, your community, not to mention the damage done to you. The feeling is one of being extraordinary, but it is illusionary.
There are days when nothing matters.
Yesterday, I saw a homeless man in the parking with a beer in a paper bag, mumbling to himself, probably hearing voices.
I wonder how different we are from each other. Was it just the alcohol?
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