In my youth I did some very morally questionable things. Needless and excessive amounts of drugs, vandalism, nudity, bribery, malicious lying, extreme drunkenness followed by extreme vomiting, promiscuity bordering somewhere near nymphomania and all other manners of sinfully deviant behaviour. But the miraculous fact remains to be… my age. I’m in constant awe of how much trouble I managed to fit into those few years of self-destruction; how many misfit mishaps I tossed around. A wild child just figuring out who she was, who she wanted to be later… and who she didn’t want to be ever again. I’ve been there. I’ve got the t-shirt. I’ve then trashed the t-shirt, doused it in butane, torched it, and threw it at someone. I got all the inner teenage angst out of my system… fast. I worked out my twisted abandonment issues with acid trips, corporate kleptomania, passionate sex games and a lot of tequila. A ferocious circle spilled its way into every little corner of my life. Until Adam came along. He was the front of house manager at my work, a long time friend, and crush of mine who understood the potential risks that came along with having me as a girlfriend. He took a chance anyway and we became an “item”. It didn’t take long for my life to completely switch gears as I separated myself from the drug-induced coma crowd and finally hopped off the lethargic treadmill I had confined myself to. We played poker a few times and he won rarely. Our first kiss was immediately followed by our first… everything and the more time I spent at his place, the more I became increasingly attracted to his roommate and less attracted to him. Turns out it didn’t matter since he dumped me later that same week; at two in the morning with a drunk phone call. Grapevine news spread like wildfire that he had hooked up with another girl a few hours later. I saw it coming, and moved on (although not without a few unexpected tears).
It could have been his plan all along, to nurture the broken girl back to societies moral standards and leave her in the dust once she had been successfully rehabilitated… but it didn’t work right away. I flitted and faltered a few times, running back to the familiarity I sought within chaos. I stole my next boyfriend from a two-year relationship and didn’t even blink an eye. I tried a few new drugs (see: Ketamine, GHB) and blamed everything on someone else. Eventually though, after a few more rock bottom falls, I remembered how it felt to be immersed in Adam’s world; I remembered the peace that wrapped around my mind and body; and I remembered waking up happy in my own bed, instead of some crack-house basement mattress, shivering. The memories alone were enough for me to grow some new wings and fly away again. Literally this time, as I headed to the Philippines and became the lonely stoner you know today. I’m still not sure if this is a happy story or not, but I smile when I think about it anyways. I’m 21… and I already have so much to write about. Kinda makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
7 comments:
Now THIS is a mother fucking blog update god mother fucking dammit! This is more than what any loyal blog follower could ask for on a weekend when they decide to go tip-toeing on the interweb. Thank you Maria dahling for showing how it's fucking done. Sex, drugs, and cock and droll.... perfect! Who else could write on this... who else? Ok, Kat and Jen... but who else? Ok ... don't answer that, I'm a dumbass alright! Point being that Krumby's page, apart from having no weekend updates, had a comment from the author that took a jab at a response from yours falsely, through a textual vehicle that contained abysmal sarcasm. Sometimes I blunder why I bother with such batters.
Regarding your post, it's a happy story as long as you live by the lessons learnt from your rollercoaster life.. which I guess you do to a good degree. That's all that any of us can do really. It ought to (should?) make you feel warm and fuzzy since it's your life, and in a way it's "you". Who are we really if not the combined consequence of our past experiences? Maybe the fuzziness is due to being sane and alive after all the madness. I dunno for sure... since my bag of shit of a life is different in that the fuzziness I feel from thinking about my past is me wanting to throw up... all over my handicapped professor, who is a raging asshole. Apples and oranges I guess... but both are rotten fruit.
The only real problem with all this "vival experimentation" is that many a time the consequences that arise clash with what's accepted in society. The conflict that arises forces some minds to resolve the problem by figuring out oneself and society, at the cost of some discomfort. Ultimately, I cannot see this as a bad thing. So the plus side of fucking up is growth; growth requires pure, unadulterated, XXX-rated fuckuppery... and bravo on doing a stand up job in the past, and I can only hope for a really awful thing from you in the future. The only reason is that, at present, I think your mind is bloody fantastic... and I wonder what limits your mind could cross with a REALLY good future fuck up. Yeah, I mean... mankind might be grateful.. that's how far your mind could reach! Maybe by the time you're 23. *fingers crossed* You think you've got one more left in you... for old slimes cake?
Yeah, I'm feeling like a tingly asshole since the past few days. It's good, I think.
P.S: Adam's immeasurable douchebaginess makes me want to defecate on him after consuming a killer kilo combo meal consisting of burritos, chutney and Pringles ranch flavoured chips.
Good day madame.
I am constantly amazed by all the wild stuff you've managed to do in your life. It's really hard to believe you're only 21. I'm just over twice your age, and I've done almost nothing. It makes me really sad sometimes. I worry that I'm never going to get a chance to do much living. (Not that I'd necessarily want to go through everything you've gone through. But I would like to experience Something.)
I don't even know what GHB is.
All I really know about you is what you tell us, of course, and I'm sure my image of you is pretty distorted, but I've long felt that if I were you I would feel all warm and fuzzy inside all the time.
ps It's good to have Lupine back. (I was starting to wonder what had happened to him.) This blog just isn't the same without his long-winded and somewhat disturbing commentary. (Disturbing, yet always fun to read.)
what makes you think your grown? is it the size of your hips, or the experience of your hips....as much as we think we lost our innocence...were still ignorant, and the two are hand in hand.
peace sissa
Michael. Can I call you Mike? I think it's about time we shorten up that name and welcome you to the club. I believe you might have heard, we call ourselves the darksiders, and it's never too late to start doing what you want, instead of what's expected of you.
(GHB is another type of date-rape drug. I self induced it, with two other people, but in no way suggest you start with any of my preferred methods.)
Experience comes from anything new. However small or life-altering.
We should talk. Someday. Maybe. Not for why you think but for other reasons and stuff.
You da poo.
I love you!
Today is my lucky day :)
Apple is giving review copies of iPad to 100 lucky person. Go to http://bit.ly/cmmVr7 and apply for it.
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