So Sad Today

s hard to compare the person you see once every three months with the person you see every day. It’s hard to compare the person you don’t really know with the person you’ve been with for eleven years. The rarer person starts to look better. You don’t see his flaws. He only shows you his best self.

All I want from you is to be liked. Of course, that is a scared woman’s way of saying what I really want, which is to connect with you on a deep and true level while I am still on this earth, and maybe even after I am off it.

It seems weird to me that here we are, alive, not knowing why we are alive, and just going about our business, sort of ignoring that fact. How are we all not looking at each other all the time just like, Yo, what the fuck?

Perfectionism, of course, is not the sole culprit in my anxiety and depression. There is also chemistry, sensitivity, history, nurture, DNA, and questions existential and mystic—questions I have been discouraged from thinking about too hard, like, Why am I here? What is all of this? Am I going to die? Am I going to die right now? If I die right now, is that all there is? If I don’t die right now, is this all there is?

I found new best friends in my substances that could protect me from my thoughts. The world became a magical place, not lonely or fearful or harsh. With my friends by my side, nobody could touch me. But then the anxiety found its way around the drugs and alcohol. Or, in the case of psychedelics and weed, it began reminding me that not only did I not know what was going on but what was going on might be more dark than benevolent.

Drugs and alcohol were the best thing that ever happened to me. For the first time, I was okay to be on the planet and completely comfortable in my own skin. Weed made my brain a playground, a new earth to be explored. Liquor, beer, and wine gave me the peace of mind I’d always sought. Psychedelics allowed me to connect with other human beings in a way where I could finally address the question of What is going on here? MDMA was union with these human beings in spite of the not knowing. Amphetamines kept me skinny and made me untouchable to sadness. Benzos and opiates made me impervious to the world.

For someone with anxiety, dramatic situations are, in a way, more comfortable than the mundane. In dramatic situations the world rises to meet your anxiety. When there are no dramatic situations available, you turn the mundane into the dramatic.

I have the brain of an addict and the heart of a sixteen-year-old girl.

I have the brain of an addict and the heart of a sixteen-year-old girl.

They said that chewing the gum is better than smoking, but the constant nicotine is probably bad for my heart. But I feel like I have two hearts, a physical heart and an emotional one. And while the gum may have an adverse effect on my physical heart, it does wonders for my emotional one. It ballasts and buffers, nurtures and excites. I guess I value my emotional heart more.