Soul in ICU

It’s been so hard to make any semblance of sense of my miasmic mentality. I am so out of touch with myself. Feelings have gone far beyond words, and I no longer know how to make the associations. What’s that little germ of negativity floating around inside of me? What are those throngs and thousands? Hard to say. Anyone have a dictionary?
Webster’s unabridged deluxe leather-bound edition you say? I don’t think I’d get beyond the deep nasal inhalations. Ahhhhh, nothing like the smell of whale fat oiled dead cow skin.
I totally sounded like a, you know, right there. This is a very PC place of writing so I don’t want to name names, but it rhymes with ‘rippie’. You didn’t hear it here.
There is just so much going on in my life at present that will hold a minimum of fascination for any one in life, that I think I’ll start at the beginning.
I was born in Houston, Texas in the spring of 1983…
Wait, fast forward that. I didn’t mean the literal beginning (a philosophical conundrum any way, since if time is linear no one would know anything about a beginning at which to begin, and if time is all at once or cyclical, there would be no beginning at which begin either. Neither here nor there). I meant the beginning of the point in time in my life which I first think of.
It all started when I took 1.5 rolls, which took too long to kick in, so I took 1 extra roll, and waited and waited, and then they kicked in with a vengeance. At this time I was almost 25, and therefore too old to be taking ecstasy, but that will lead to the denouement of the story. We’ll skip over the boring details of extreme visual hallucinations and 5 hour marathon sex that never stopped feeling good, and get to the point. I had a very severe comedown and I was forced into confronting myself brutally. It wasn’t a pretty picture. Actually, I looked all right, but the inner turmoil I was experiencing, the hellish gauntlet of terrifyingly vivid bad emotions was staggering.
It was this most unhappy of situations that I found this little nugget of truth. Your life will not change in ways you want it to unless you do something about it. For example, say you were a stripper, and had been for 6 years but really wanted to be, in fact you planned on, being a journalist, but you never ever did anything to make that happen. In fact, you barely wrote recreationally. You cannot expect to some day be a journalist of any variety. It will not happen. You will instead be a 35 year old stripper, and that phenomenal person you knew in your youth you were meant to be, will be irretrievable.
Sadly this little nugget was much akin to the Mario Brothers magic mushroom in that it could be used just once. It gave you enough gusto to make one big change. Hopefully you chose wisely. Hopefully you didn’t choose to accept the first soul annihilating job opportunity that came along. If you did, sorry. Don’t take more drugs to try and recreate the effect. It is very painful and you may not succeed. Plus you are too old.
So, my soul is in the ICU. Please drop by during visiting hours.
I took that first job and I really really really don’t friggin like it. Lets see how long I puss out before I actually do something about it.