I’m hurt. I hate fighting like this. But there are some things that just happened that really made me upset. You are saying that we are two different people. One person who can do drugs, the other one who can’t. Well excuse me for not having the personality you desire. Sorry that I don’t want to use and get fucked up out of my mind occasionally. In all truth, I wish I did. I wish I was as carefree enough to do so. I feel like this concept is hard for you to understand in terms of my point of view. You just view it as a flaw, something that I can’t do because I don’t have enough balls or whatever. And when I try to make it clear to you that, no it’s not because I’m a huge pussy, or maybe it is, but mainly it’s because I’ve got tons of thoughts in my head. Thoughts that have been contrived through hard experiences. Thoughts that bounce around, inevitably shaping my personality. Whenever I try to voice them, people take them as horribly negative viewpoints and pessimism, ignore me and then they become trapped in my head. Even you said, “Well I wouldn’t have put myself in that position,” when I told you what I was actually thinking about on acid. It’s awesome that you have that capability to control your thoughts like that, but excuse me for not being able to. I wish I could. I wish I could just not think about these things. But when I do, and especially when on a drug that turns your insides out, I can not help the unbearable weight confining me to a less than satisfactory optimism. Sometimes I think you forget or write off the fact that my mom died. That her body ate her. That through the last year I got to see my lifeline get tortured by her own host and that I’m left here with my dad who’s a broken man. Sometimes I think you bank on the fact of me being strong because you don’t know how to deal with me if I’m not. Well I’m ok with that, and I promise I will hold my own as much as I can. You inspire that in me and I know I have to be strong to get through it. You never signed up for this kind of heavy, I know. And thank you for being here from day one, I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough. But just don’t you ever put me down for having these feelings, not being the best drug buddy, or getting upset when you say I’m someone who just can’t do drugs. Because that’s not it. I can do enough drugs until my eyes bleed and my heart explodes. I can fry my brain til I have no conscience and i’m 23 and stealing money from my diabetic grandmother. I can I can I can. Would that impress you? Would that put me up a few notches in your book? Sometimes I wish that they were never invented. Sometimes I dream of the perfect world where people got high on feeling their feet in the mud. On seeing the sunset or knowing what love feels like. Sometimes I crave the idea that there is more to this life.
I never talk about it because this is what comes out. I don’t want to scare you off. But I don’t want to lie to you and pretend like I’m fine all the time either. I love you, I just had to write all this down so I could get on with my day.