So I'm a veteran. I'm not sure if you can tell just by looking at me, but I used to be a pretty damn good soldier....all-star status. Don't worry about it...you know you don't give a shit. It's cool. If I weren't such a fuck-up in real life, I probably would've ended up not caring about it either. But that shit happened...so let's talk about it. I don't think I have PTSD. I'm pretty damn sure I don't (not unless you count that whole manslaughter thing). But I have my.... moments. Have you ever had that sudden moment of clarity...and realized you may be only a few steps away from living under a bridge? No? Well that's good. It's a hard reality when you realize you are way close to being that guy.
I was sitting in my room when it happened. (Surprise surprise, right?) So I'm in my chair, ....and I snapped out of whatever stupor I was in long enough to take note of my surroundings. Table full of old pizza, scattered weed, some pills, various large and ridiculous blades, plus a (plastic) bottle of vodka. I hadn't shaved in about two weeks. I have a camo-bandana holding back my shit-mess of a hairdo. Fight-music is steadily thrashing in the background. There's bottles full of piss cause I'm too lazy or fucked up to utilize stairs....and I'm chain-smoking cigars while watching some war-documentary with a gun in my hand. Yeah...soak it in. ("The sun goes down and my dick grows bigga. How many bitches wanna fuck THIS nigga?")
It's actually not as bad as it sounds I suppose; or maybe it is. I don't fucking know. That's the problem with crazy-- if you really are losing your shit, obviously your opinion becomes null and void....because you're in the process of spinning out of reality. All I'm trying to say is don't be surprised if I manage to get published in the obituaries. I'm not suicidal, but I am a realist. There's an oblong box in everyone's future. If you got a losing ticket, why not hit the button? Realistically, I'll check out as a result of some hedonistic night gone horribly wrong (on the rockstar scale, Motely Crue can't carry my junk with a crane). But if I don't meet my demise at the hands of a real-life action scene, it's because I got really bored and flipped my own monopoly board by suck-starting a 45.
No? Too much? Ok, let's try the funny-town version of that joke....
Speaking of suicide, ever wonder if it's possible to slam dunk your own head? Like, make a noose out of that cheese-wire shit. Then krazy glue your hands to your dome..... and just fuckin' hop off a building? In theory, it'd look like you actually just ripped off your own head. Like, you got so pissed you just cursed the gods, yelled, "AAAHHHHHHH" and yanked that shit off. That's pretty intense. If you put a basketball net on the ground beforehand.....it might work. How cool would that be? Yeah, you died...blah blah blah people are sad, .....but you get to slam-dunk your own fuckin' Head! You could scream out, "BOOMSHAKALAKA!" and follow it with the trademark ...bwoooooSPLAT! If you're gonna check out, that's the way to go. Make sure you eat a ton of skittles and pizza before you take the plunge. It'd be like a pinata for pedestrians. I'm all about aesthetics.
How's that for a save?
