Self Portrait

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Pieces of Inebriation – Courting Quentin

Courting Quentin: Backwoods Meth Explicit 

[The following is a protected portion of a new novel by D R Breshears Under the Influence]

What I want to talk about right now, with a stomach full of the best goddamn meatballs and sauce you’ll ever find outside of your grandma’s kitchen and a brain fuzzed nicely from a joint to dull the broken ass leg I’ve been nursing, is, well, just that, my broken ass leg.

I know Zeke told you it’s not really like that, it’s not really broken. Sometimes I think that would be better though. At least you can fuckin’ see whats causing you so much pain, touch it, make it better, ya know? But my leg was broken, that was for sure.

I was just sitting there one day, back from a Charlie run, ready to get high as fuck but pacing myself with a new Cosmo magazine to wait for the rest of the house to get home and partake, and I felt a pain shoot from my knee cap to my toes, my left leg, my fucking taller leg.

The pain lasted about 30 breath-catching seconds and then it all felt like it was on fire, like it was breaking in every spot all at once, the bone aching and splitting and melting all at once, but of course nothing was visibly or physically happening to me.

The pain at the fullest lasted 33 minutes, 33 cocksucking minutes in which I was extremely happy to be alone in the house. The neighbor probably thought a high-pitched Taiwanese whore was being fucked back to Bangkok in here the way I was screaming. It finally subsided into a singular, massive, sharp as a fresh school pencil pain in my shin bone, an oddly warm welcome to the entire leg being broken.

And just like that it was over. Well not over, but there was no more fresh pain, no salt to the wound. It heals like a normal broken bum leg would, you know that bullshit, time heals all. But also what time doesn’t heal drugs do, they forgot that part of the phrase, whoever said it first. I mean you guys get our whole thing with being fucking addicts by now right?

Wait, let’s clear that up: I don’t think we should call ourselves, or let you guys’ for fucks sake, a bunch of random ass drug novel readers, call us addicts. I mean, we do a lot of drugs and need them to survive mentally and emotionally, but we are not fucking physically addicted. We don’t shake and sweat and curse and cry because we need drugs, we do all that pussy shit because it. Fucking. Hurts. Plain and fucking simple. It hurts to be sober.


You know what’s great?

Thoughts for today:

1). Staying busy is great for depression.

2). Being passionate about something is great for depression (unless you are passionate about being depressed).

3). Nature, specifically like this perfectly imperfect tree, is great for depression.

4). Being social at your workplace and interacting with family is great for depression.

5). It being Friday in general is great for depression.

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The 4 R’s to fixing Depression.

If you are following my blog regularly and are like, ‘damn, this girl is depressing’, I know, I’m sorry. My therapy = writing, and my journal = WordPress. Besides, things can only get better from here, either I’m going to fix my brain or I’m going to get a hell of a book out of this. Either way, I promise I’ll continue with photography posts as well.

Rejuvenation: That one day a week where you’ve gotten over your pity and depression about the general hopelessness of life and have chosen to be productive, think positively, and worry about your future, both health wise and work wise. Aka, today, Wednesday, Humpday.  I think I’m going to start my business plan and apply for another job.

Revaluation: Later that day when you wonder if your new optimism and control of your life is a classic example of ignorance is bliss or a classic symptom of Bipolar disorder. I mean, yeah, things are going great right now and you are mentally stable/productive, but is this really better than being emotionally and mentally raw with how you feel about yourself, your mind, your mortality, and your world? I enjoy being productive and positive, but at what cost to the true knowledge of how I feel?

Relaxation: The last part of your day in which you simply decide to turn your mind off, because you could argue both ways of life and death and positivity and negativity and hopelessness and promise. It’s best to just step away and kick your feet up. I’m going to take a walk.

Relapse: The very next day, when you realize you were right, everything is depressing, everything is pointless, and no one can help you, not even you. Time to fix this.

This is not the Positivity you are seeking.

This is not positive. This is not a cry for help. This is simply how I feel today.

Mortality – Today is one of those days. A lot of people say that. ‘Oh, it’s been one of those days’, after a long work day, stressful toddler chasing filled day, I don’t know, something really rough. For me, today is one of those days in which I am both terrified of dying and at the same time filled with the hopelessness of living. I am 100% aware of how lucky and blessed I am (can I say blessed without being religious anymore?) and yet cannot fathom even the slightest reason to do anything about it. I fill my days with trying to be successful at my job, positive in my head, and happy toward those I love and whom love me. But today, the full weight of the word why settles heavily on me and I just sit here at work, in the midst of a productive day full of amazing ideas and projects and a great dinner with family later thinking…why? Why in the hell, when I am sooner than later going to turn into a non existent, non-emotion filled, pocket of space. Even if I write, and create a family, and do what I can to keep my name and soul known on earth, it won’t be, it won’t be known, it wouldn’t have made a lasting effect, it won’t have helped anyone or have figured anything out. Religion is nice, it’s calming, but it’s not true to me right now, and that leaves nothingness, which is fine, it’s true, it’s just, terrifying. I won’t work hard, and I won’t be nice, and I won’t go out of my way to be better, when nobody, or nothing, will know about my struggles and blessings eventually. I won’t do it.

Positive or helpful or just plain intriguing thoughts welcomed.