Spineless.

The long weekend that has just past proved to be more insightful than any other weekend before it.

As I’m sure you’ve already naturally assumed, I got totally and utterly fucked. Far too many drugs and far too much drinking. These two mixed together create what I like to call, a Spineless Cocktail.

I call them this because this is when I show all my true colours. And the only conclusion I’m ever left with feeling is, spineless. I turn my back on everyone and everything. And it is all a reflection of my ‘now’ life.

Feels like I’m falling off the face of the earth. Old friends that don’t call, apologies, beliefs, hopes, dreams, ideals, morals, light bulbs, pride, lust, ego, you see it all for what it really is. It’s all bullshit. You can’t bank any of it. You’d like to believe what their selling you is honest. The real deal. The so called ‘genuine article’, but the truth is, there is no such thing. These are just people who aren’t motivated enough to fuck you over. So does that make them lazy? Sloth-ful? Indolent? Sluggish? Languid?

Not at all. It makes them ‘good people’. How could such harmful words fall on the ears of the precious.

Well I’d like to take the time to declare what I know to be true about myself. And then, and only then, can I ever feel people have any kind of right to judge me.

I’m spineless. I take too many drugs, I smoke too many cigarettes and I drink as much, if not more, than the salmon of Capistrano. These things don’t make me spineless, they are more like the prelude to a hit and miss, paperback novel.

I am spineless because I enjoy doing these things. These things, however, stir reactions and create consequences. I do care that I hurt some people. Close people, but I do not care as to how this situation arises. Whether it’d be getting too drunk and cheating. Or getting too pinged and lashing out. Or getting stoned and not turning up anywhere on time. And because I can honestly say I don’t care and mean it.

This feeling circles round, and I again, makes me feel like I’m falling off the face of the earth. I don’t seem to laugh as much anymore, to take things lightly, to understand instead of accuse and of course, I don’t seem to need to ‘be there’ as much. Replaced? Not by my own accord but by my own fault.

So I wanted to tell anyone who knows me, who might have wanted to read this for some bizarre reason (I’d like to call it boredom) and to tell them that although I may do a lot of fucked up things, and make everything messy, I’d still like to have some partial influence in your lives, even though I’m trying to find and live my own.

Note: I’ve moved out. I got too fucked up and lost my phone so there’s no help there. Calling my home phone won’t help much either. So I guess email is perhaps the best way to contact me. But I won’t be on often. So if it’s a real emergency, send a carrier pigeon or whatever for fuck sakes.