Walking home last night after a late movie with my friend uptown, proved to be rather frightening. The people out and about around 1am on a Friday are that of a weird and evil breed. They look like some sort of hellish mutation. Glazed over eyes, slanted walks and speaking in tongues. I knew I had to keep cool if I wanted to get home unscathed.
How the fuck did I not fall victim to these monsters in the past when I was out of my mind? I was most definitly easy prey. Drugged up and drunk. Their slanted gait had nothing on mine. And that was it. What kept me safe.
When I was using, I was weirder and more evil looking than any of the lunatics I saw roaming about that night could ever strive to be. I was an abominable mess of liquor and various narcotics. All of these combined with a deep seeded hatred all swirling around in my gut. I wanted to tear down everything around me. Set the world on fire.
Crazy and Evil can sense that. They respect it and it’s the only thing that scares them. They stay the fuck away from it.
It’s like they say with bears in the wild. If they see you or look like they’re going to chase your ass, run down hill, scream, yell and act god damn nuts. They won’t want anything to do with you. No animal wants to sink it’s teeth into a slab of crazy. That’s too risky. They don’t know how it will react or what they might catch from it.
So by appearing most definitley insane and vile, I saved my own ass. I didn’t make any new friends, sure. But I also didn’t end up dead in a gutter. At that point in my addiction the only person that would be taking me out, was me.
Lucky for me and those who gave two shits about my sorry existence, I didn’t successfully take myself out and got my shit together. I traded in the whiskey for black coffee and narcotics for expensive shoes.
It wasn’t that easy of course, but that’s not the point of this story. The point is, if you are surrounded by crazy, act crazier and you’ll get out alive.
On my walk home, as I waltzed through the real prize jerks in Columbus Circle, I turned up some old disco in my headphones and sang right along. Loud.
My path cleared, I had a good laugh and I got home, no problem.
Disco is way better than drugs…but isn’t that how it all started? It’s still saving my ass I guess. Life is funny and I never second guess it.
For the original blog site go to http://www.hihaveyoumetme.com
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
How the fuck did I not fall victim to these monsters in the past when I was out of my mind? I was most definitly easy prey. Drugged up and drunk. Their slanted gait had nothing on mine. And that was it. What kept me safe.
When I was using, I was weirder and more evil looking than any of the lunatics I saw roaming about that night could ever strive to be. I was an abominable mess of liquor and various narcotics. All of these combined with a deep seeded hatred all swirling around in my gut. I wanted to tear down everything around me. Set the world on fire.
Crazy and Evil can sense that. They respect it and it’s the only thing that scares them. They stay the fuck away from it.
It’s like they say with bears in the wild. If they see you or look like they’re going to chase your ass, run down hill, scream, yell and act god damn nuts. They won’t want anything to do with you. No animal wants to sink it’s teeth into a slab of crazy. That’s too risky. They don’t know how it will react or what they might catch from it.
So by appearing most definitley insane and vile, I saved my own ass. I didn’t make any new friends, sure. But I also didn’t end up dead in a gutter. At that point in my addiction the only person that would be taking me out, was me.
Lucky for me and those who gave two shits about my sorry existence, I didn’t successfully take myself out and got my shit together. I traded in the whiskey for black coffee and narcotics for expensive shoes.
It wasn’t that easy of course, but that’s not the point of this story. The point is, if you are surrounded by crazy, act crazier and you’ll get out alive.
On my walk home, as I waltzed through the real prize jerks in Columbus Circle, I turned up some old disco in my headphones and sang right along. Loud.
My path cleared, I had a good laugh and I got home, no problem.
Disco is way better than drugs…but isn’t that how it all started? It’s still saving my ass I guess. Life is funny and I never second guess it.
For the original blog site go to http://www.hihaveyoumetme.com
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan