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The LSD Diaries
Part 2
Start:
“whats your book about James?” she said as seductively as her spirit addled mind would allow.
“Its about you. Its all about you ” I said as truthfully confidently as I’ve ever said anything. “its all about you. It always has been about you. And it always will be about you.”
“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hold on”- Thomas Jefferson {Trademark Pending}
I’m the anti-thesis of a rebel. I operate at the limit of my constraints but never think of crossing the line. I love my privileges and wouldn’t give them up for anything. I spent an hour in class today silently listening to my 25 year old English teacher discuss his beliefs about Ursula K. Le Guin’s depiction of anarchy and then drove to the beach with a group of my fraternity brothers. I then proceeded to drink rum and snort cocaine until my friends passed out leaving me with the spoils of the sack. I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s. There is no cause I am against because no causes really affect me. I’ve slipped through the cracks. I have no conflict. I’m no Holden Caulfield. The world suits me just fine. I’m no Achilles. I have no foe. I have nothing to protect. My only crisis is that I have none. Me and my friends spend hours creating fictional drama in our lives to give them meaning. We use drugs so that we can want them later. We screw girls so that they can screw us over later.
My whole life I’ve always hated when people told me that something was right, even more when I was told something was wrong. I didn’t know what bothered me about it until I grew older and realized that “right” is a bunch of garbage that’s been fed to us by all the countless generations of people who had it fed to them. People grasp to the idea with great passion as if they might fall off the earth if they lost hold of this meaningless constitution. The problem with this world isn’t greed, corruption, drugs, or even religion. The problem lies in many men’s inability to live in a world where things aren’t fair, where things aren’t balanced, where things don’t make sense. I’m not pretending that these men think that things are fair to them individually but instead I’m asserting that people have an need to believe that the things that happen to them are reactions to something else that happened before that. So we add up all the “rights” and subtract the “wrongs” to the answer doesn’t equal zero we just can’t handle it so we find a new “right” or a new “wrong” to balance the scales.
At this point in my life I only really want two things consistently, drugs and her. I want the drugs for the absolute release I get, even though I know eventually they will kill me. I’m not so sure what that says about her. I want her even more as time passes since the last time we were together. As rational and unemotional as I try to be with every other part of my existence, I am just as irrational and romantic when it comes to her. She is my fairytale. Its been almost a year since I’ve seen her. Not seeing her anymore only bolsters that fantasy. I don’t remember the fights or the lies; at least I don’t feel the pain of them anymore. I only remember the overwhelming primal ecstasy of wanting something more than anything else in the world and getting it. She was everything. She was my favorite addiction.
My time with her from beginning until now ran just like any other new drug I had taken interest in. I had known of her for a while before I decided I wanted her. At first I didn’t think anything of her. Our first encounter happened when I was very drunk and using. She approached me and I needed someone and she was someone. We had sex and I’m sure it was fun but I didn’t even think of her for a while after that. I’m not saying this to show how bad-ass I am with opposite sex but so you don’t think this addiction was a sexual one. Even after our first encounter I wasn’t hooked. I wasn’t even interested. I had a similar start with benzos as I would only take them when I already extremely intoxicated so I never really felt the high. It only made me black out harder. But just like with Xanax I once I got that first real high from her I was done.
It didn’t happen the next time we got together which was essentially a repeat of our first time. It also only happened because of her persistence. Maybe she saw something in me that intrigued her or maybe she just thought I was cool but her interest kept me around long enough for it to happen. I fell in love for the first and only time in my life at my lake house after sneaking out there with her to stay the night. She wasn’t the first girl that had been out there. She was just different. I didn’t feel like I couldn’t sleep when she held me. Her hands weren’t too cold. She didn’t have a slight smell that over a whole night would lead an obsessive person like me to decide that she was the worst person in the entire world. When I slept with her after sex, I slept hard, harder than after snorting 20 mg of ambien. For 6 hours I was done with the world. I had won. I needed nothing else. From that point I've never stopped wanting that.
Stop:
“whats your book about James?” she said as seductively as her spirit addled mind would allow.
“Its about you. Its all about you ” I said as truthfully confidently as I’ve ever said anything. “its all about you. It always has been about you. And it always will be about you.”
“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hold on”- Thomas Jefferson {Trademark Pending}
I’m the anti-thesis of a rebel. I operate at the limit of my constraints but never think of crossing the line. I love my privileges and wouldn’t give them up for anything. I spent an hour in class today silently listening to my 25 year old English teacher discuss his beliefs about Ursula K. Le Guin’s depiction of anarchy and then drove to the beach with a group of my fraternity brothers. I then proceeded to drink rum and snort cocaine until my friends passed out leaving me with the spoils of the sack. I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s. There is no cause I am against because no causes really affect me. I’ve slipped through the cracks. I have no conflict. I’m no Holden Caulfield. The world suits me just fine. I’m no Achilles. I have no foe. I have nothing to protect. My only crisis is that I have none. Me and my friends spend hours creating fictional drama in our lives to give them meaning. We use drugs so that we can want them later. We screw girls so that they can screw us over later.
My whole life I’ve always hated when people told me that something was right, even more when I was told something was wrong. I didn’t know what bothered me about it until I grew older and realized that “right” is a bunch of garbage that’s been fed to us by all the countless generations of people who had it fed to them. People grasp to the idea with great passion as if they might fall off the earth if they lost hold of this meaningless constitution. The problem with this world isn’t greed, corruption, drugs, or even religion. The problem lies in many men’s inability to live in a world where things aren’t fair, where things aren’t balanced, where things don’t make sense. I’m not pretending that these men think that things are fair to them individually but instead I’m asserting that people have an need to believe that the things that happen to them are reactions to something else that happened before that. So we add up all the “rights” and subtract the “wrongs” to the answer doesn’t equal zero we just can’t handle it so we find a new “right” or a new “wrong” to balance the scales.
At this point in my life I only really want two things consistently, drugs and her. I want the drugs for the absolute release I get, even though I know eventually they will kill me. I’m not so sure what that says about her. I want her even more as time passes since the last time we were together. As rational and unemotional as I try to be with every other part of my existence, I am just as irrational and romantic when it comes to her. She is my fairytale. Its been almost a year since I’ve seen her. Not seeing her anymore only bolsters that fantasy. I don’t remember the fights or the lies; at least I don’t feel the pain of them anymore. I only remember the overwhelming primal ecstasy of wanting something more than anything else in the world and getting it. She was everything. She was my favorite addiction.
My time with her from beginning until now ran just like any other new drug I had taken interest in. I had known of her for a while before I decided I wanted her. At first I didn’t think anything of her. Our first encounter happened when I was very drunk and using. She approached me and I needed someone and she was someone. We had sex and I’m sure it was fun but I didn’t even think of her for a while after that. I’m not saying this to show how bad-ass I am with opposite sex but so you don’t think this addiction was a sexual one. Even after our first encounter I wasn’t hooked. I wasn’t even interested. I had a similar start with benzos as I would only take them when I already extremely intoxicated so I never really felt the high. It only made me black out harder. But just like with Xanax I once I got that first real high from her I was done.
It didn’t happen the next time we got together which was essentially a repeat of our first time. It also only happened because of her persistence. Maybe she saw something in me that intrigued her or maybe she just thought I was cool but her interest kept me around long enough for it to happen. I fell in love for the first and only time in my life at my lake house after sneaking out there with her to stay the night. She wasn’t the first girl that had been out there. She was just different. I didn’t feel like I couldn’t sleep when she held me. Her hands weren’t too cold. She didn’t have a slight smell that over a whole night would lead an obsessive person like me to decide that she was the worst person in the entire world. When I slept with her after sex, I slept hard, harder than after snorting 20 mg of ambien. For 6 hours I was done with the world. I had won. I needed nothing else. From that point I've never stopped wanting that.
Stop: