I hate drugs, but maybe it's the drugs talking.
I live in the bad part of town, yeah, but I'm a good person. I think. Hey, I'm still on drugs. Maybe thinking isn't the best idea right now.
Society. People. It's boring. It can take the most vibrant of people and reduce them to shuddering silhouettes, curled up and shivering in their artificial walls. What can friends do? What can family do?
What can drugs do? Oh, they can take that itsy bitsy spider and flush him out of every bad dream, every old dream, every ambition, and every goal. There won't be a boring day in your life with them handy tools. Colors will leave through a crack in the glass ball they were kept in, but...
You'll be too fat to fit through the crack. And then you'll be left staring at the problems you made for yourself when you were hopped up.
Society. Structure. It's sophisticated. Complex, if you will. Annoying, if I may. With people the way they are, they just keep talking and talking, and they assume that just the right person will have time to sit and listen. The smallest comment gets you into a world of trouble. If you make a big deal, even more problems come. The depression kicks you so hard it feels like a triple-decker suicide slammed ya in the face.
What do drugs do to your problems? Elysium, staring at you from the inside of a bottle, filled with pretty little pills and liquids, and shots. It's so simple.
Drugs are for people who are not sophisticated. People who are not complex. People who are not annoying. If you are a listener, chances are that you're deaf. If you're a talker, chances are you'll be deaf as well, but even if you can't hear yourself talk, it's a nice vibration.
Drugs don't give you problems, but they sure do make them. It's just your choice whether you fix them or not. And if you don't fix them, which you should never do, it gets worse.
Which it always does.
Society. Life. It's endearing in the way that a 10- foot tall bear in a tutu is endearing. It's only cute for so long. But then the harsh reality steps in and tells you that perfection is so beyond what you're capable of.
Or maybe that the drugs talking.
Even so, you'll miss it. You'll miss the harsh reality, the problems, the sophistication, the boredom.
It's by way of pain that one arrives at drugs.
It's by way of reality that one arrives at help.