Comatose

Sometimes I drift off into sick thoughts of:

Sticking my fork in the light socket.

Cranking the steering wheel of my vehicle all the way left

Traveling into the back country during avalanche season & scream into a megaphone.

Having some good ol' unprotected sex.

Shooting up  speed-balls, or just speed ( turns out my dopamine receptors don't like Heroin)

Sometimes I don't wear my seat belt. I know that I should & I do the 98.9999% of the time... but other times I just don't see the point. Or maybe I just have the urge to be reckless every once in awhile? Now that I've been "Living Right" for the most part. I still need to watch out for the other hundred ways my head is trying to kill me.

Then there are times I am wearing my seat belt, traveling down the freeway in my 4 door sedan (always when I'm alone) & find myself day dreaming of being involved in a collision out of my control, of veering underneath the trailer tires of an 18 wheeler. I don't want to die & I don't expect that I would, but I visualize that being in a naturally or medically induced coma would be a nice change of pace from the monotony. Nothing permanent,  just a little break, time to relax while not thinking or worrying or obsessing. Hit the restart button.. 

I didn't believe that depression was ever a thing. Suicide was for selfish people trying to seek out the ultimate attention of those they perceived were ignoring them. I believed people just needed to get out of bed, get out of the house & do something. To just be better.. or maybe just try harder? They could choose to stop being sad.. especially if your'e a goddamn man. Go jump a dirt bike, ford a river, chop down a tree, climb a mountain. There are a million other things to do in this world than to be fuckin sad.

And if those natural highs don't work for you, there are always other stimulants in the dopamine well.

Until I was the one who was fuckin sad. I was the flop who wouldn't get out of bed, not even to ride my dirt bike. Until I let my own business consume me with stress after crushing stress. Until I was alone all of those late nights, Until I was the one that decided that I needed a drink or a drug to help me deal & cope. Until I was clinically depressed, until I saw absolutely no other way out of my addiction cycle merry-go-round. 

Except to jump off into oblivion. I couldn't fathom the thought of riding it out, to have the merry-go-round slow down on it's own timeline. I can't bear the "come off" of it all, with the overwhelming dizziness. That sick feeling of nausea, inevitable vomiting till I'm dry heaving emptiness. I was just empty at that point, running off of fumes of previous nights n' days, blurred together as one last binge.