Wednesday, October 17, 2012
But somewhere along the line I also acquired a taste for tremendous self-loathing, and it has manifested itself in behavior that can politely be called destructive — enormous appetites for things that are hazardous to my health, taking risks that shouldn't be taken, making choices that can only lead to bad ends.
This behavior has always been a part of me, but it has accelerated in the past year. It used to feel almost nice, an adrenaline rush that caused my heart to gallop in a fiendish frenzy. But lately it's been a drag. It's felt more like duty than delight. Truth: when your vices no longer bring you pleasure, it's time for new vices. Or a sharp change in the way you live life.
Smitty called today and we spoke for a few minutes about this goddamned season. October used to be one of our favorite months. Now I look at it with sneaking dread — and a good dollop of anger. Goddamn, but I'm pissed at being down. This is supposed to be a great season, and there's no reason for it not to be.
Another truth: I'm tired of feeling like I did something wrong. I've spent the better part of the past year wondering what I've done to have so much shit flung at my head and heart. I'll take a heartbreak, a cancer scare, a monkey on my back, a stroke — but you know, one of those life's lessons would have been plenty. I didn't need to experience them all, at least not in this one lifetime.
Come week's end, I'm going to kick up my heels and live life the way I'm supposed to. I'm a libertine, dammit. If people think I have an enormous ego, I'll live up to that hype. I'm tired of being down and feeling dirty and used. I deserve better. No matter what other people think. No matter how other people treat me.
I write this to try to convince myself that there remains a delicious core to the creature some call RED. Even if I don't believe it, I'll keep trying. I didn't come this far to fucking piss it all away.