Thread: A small sample of dark depressing truths - Written by a surefire future 27 clubber.

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    A small sample of dark depressing truths - Written by a surefire future 27 clubber. 
    Part 1.
    "Reserved Seat at the 27 Club."

    My personality changes with the drugs I'm on. Laid back happy stoned, or tweaked out doing coke alone. Trying to introduce all my faces to one another so we can find some consistency, but my heroin habit ain't having it, it's mind is set on misery. I take a hit of acid trying to broaden my horizons, expand my perceptions, connect with the pedestrians, and reflect on past confessions. 3 AM tweaked out, on a cocktail that'll likely end me in the 27 club, honestly that's probably the best that I can hope for. What is death if not an open door? I'm trapped in my mind, struggling with a constant internal war, happiness is a warm gun and a bullet is my way home. I should probably be thrown in a room made of foam, sedated with medications, and put down before I destroy this nation. They won't want to hear what I've got to say, it's bitter and true, it's dark and demented, but hey so are you. They try to hush us up, tell us were mistaken, try to make us fall in line and live a life that's all a lie. But hey now just give me my drugs, I'll be just fine. In my blissful nothingness I find euphoria and happiness. But oh don't you let me come down, I don't think I could handle it. What misery it is to feel, yeah let's avoid a sober reality. You might say my existence is bleak, well I could really care less what you think, at least when I'm high I don't so often want to die, and I can live another day and keep the darkness at bay. Drugs are the closest friends I've ever had, they've been there for me through the good and bad. Never left me never, sunshine or rainy weather, when it's cold they've been my sweater, when I'm lonely they write me letters. A friend they've been indeed, the only one I need. If not for them my wrists would bleed and I surmise that my demise would be realized.

    2. "Clinically Cynical"

    Holy shit I'm a fucking downer. Waking up with the help of an upper.
    Laying down in a field of opium, is my only chance to find peaceful sleep. I don't smoke weed these days cause weed is an enhancer, and all I've got is dark shitty vibes so enhancing would probably turn me into Charles Manson. Borderline sociopath with suicidal tendencies, bipolar hypochondriac diagnosed with multiple personalities.. And every last damn one of um is a fucking piece of shit. Drug addicted maniac, too smart for his own good brainiac, too depressed to smile when I take pictures, but occasionally I can fake it. Cynical thought patterns lead me back to square one, and square one is a belt around my arm and a needle full of endorphins. I'm questioning my existence, and from whom I was created, it's clear to me with eyes that see that I was test tube incubated. A human could not make a creation such as I, therefore I'm left to second guess why this woman calls me son? I think that I'm an experiment to gauge the level of chaos and dissent or in other words just how much shit one can take before they snap, load a gun, and pull the trigger. Well I'm still here so I guess I figure that it must be quite a bit.

    3. "The Curious Case of Fred the Feeler/ The Curious Case of the Human Condition"

    I'm not a human. I'm a hollow shell filled with an emotional void and I.. have no use for god. I don't need your religion, id sooner dance with a demon. Most days I sleep in, because I live through my dreaming. Reality has nothing for me. They say it's unsustainable, well that may well be true. But I never said I'd be here long enough for it to matter anyway. Lately I'm doing great to just see another day, when the sun goes down all the fiends come out to play. Suicidal fantasies, oh the bliss that it would bring. Push on that needle, and slowly fade away. But currently that dream cannot be realized, because I have a fucking useless no good conscious that contends that id leave those who for some unknown reason care about me behind in misery. So for that I keep pushing, how human it seems, to live to see another day in misery so that others may avoid it. Well I guess that's my cross to carry, and I'll do the best I can.
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    Join Date
    May 2005
    Your dads face
    Excellent writing my friend. Hope to see more from you

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    Bluelighter shadybraindamage's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2017
    Palm trees & sea, just walkin along the beach
    Pretty nice, a lot of mistakes but stop adding words like and or make repetitions
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    The Lounge
    BehindtheShadow's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2017
    Home is where the heart is
    Its his writing he can put whatever he feels

    @OP thank you for sharing this, please feel free to post anytime

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