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Tales of insanity. |
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I should be dead. This is a realization that I try not to think about, but it is always there in the back of my mind. When some people hear that I can already see the eye rolls, or the short exhalation of air out of their nose as they chuckle at the statement. It sounds oh so melodramatic, but that does not make it any less true. Anyone who has followed my work, especially the Memory recall stories, can see the pattern that is starting to inevitably appear within those writings. The path that my life took. As I have said before, I wanted to use both my poetry and those recalls as a sort of therapy within themselves in order to process what happened. I can honestly say that it has worked, maybe better than I originally hoped. The recall series has allowed me to put certain events into order while also allowing me to “forget” those said events. Well, not really forget them, but at least store them away so that I can start to access and sort the string of events that followed. This process has been a sort of bittersweet slideshow happening inside of my head, allowing me to relive the good along with the bad. What I wasn’t counting on, was the unearthing of things that I have tried my very best to never think about. Things that, for lack of a better term, drove me to the brink of a very real, and a very terrifying insanity. Things that are better left unremembered, because the remembering in and of itself feels like a form of insanity. One of these things is, the thin spots. Anyone who has dealt with a form of addiction that has a subsequent altering of their mental faculties might shudder at the mention of that term, because I believe that I am not the only one that has experienced this phenomenon. My drug of choice was of course alcohol, which when taken in certain quantities has the desired effect of bending reality as everyone knows, and for the most part loves. It can turn a weak man strong, a coward into a lion, and the shyest of person into the extrovert of their dreams. Everyone also knows that this bending of reality is for the most part going on inside the head of the one who has overindulged. Belligerence is never flattering the morning after. I transversed the limits of normal human consumption, however, and was in a realm altogether in and of myself. Jack Daniels was my favorite, but by the end all that mattered to me was alcohol content. I stopped drinking from a glass like a normal civilized human being, because that was too slow. Pints turned to fifths, fifths turned to liters, and liters turned into amounts that are to sickening to even think about. I was trying to kill myself, without actually admitting that was what I was doing. The binges would last for days upon days, the amounts growing ever higher while my food intake shrank to nonexistent. I lived in a world of alcohol, and when you reach a certain point the reality that you have tried so hard to escape finally begins to bend. Throughout the course of these chronicles, I will discuss and try my best to describe and relate the phenomena of my experiences. Let us try to discern reality from insanity, together. Perhaps there isn’t a difference. |
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