A Thanksgiving Rant

Who would have ever thought this is where I’d be at thirty-six years old? It’s Black Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving and what an appropriate name for tonight. Black is where I am. A black hole of desperation, depression, and dissolved relationships. While most revel in the joy of the holiday season, I have come to dread it. Always alone. Sure, plenty say they love me and perhaps they do but there’s always someone else they’d rather be spending these days with. The holidays are a miserable time for me. Always have been. Not that other times are much better. Yeah, okay, it’s Thanksgiving. I’m thankful to be alive most of the time, off the dope most of the time, have a roof over my head, crappy food to eat, and shitty cigarettes to smoke. It could be worse but it could also be a lot fucking better. Why on earth am I alone? Again. I remember watching a television show once because it had a couple of hotties in it and it was about basketball (I used to play, of course no one cared…once again, alone) and the blonde hottie had something on her wall that said “people always leave” or something of that nature. She was an artistic type. Good show. Can’t remember the name of it right now. Anyway, this girl was always abandoned by everyone. That’s me. Cool enough to hang with but when I’m down, no one’s there. At least not the ones I need. Of course I’m always there for them though. The point is, I’m alone. Not just alone but lonely. Big difference. Alone can be cool. Lonely sucks big fat grey elephant testicles until the thing ejaculates through its trunk. Okay, maybe a little over the top there but you get the point. So all you fuckers out there who are complaining about the holidays or your families or your shitty lives, like I am, it could be worse. You could be a thirty-six year old unemployed ex-junkie with no girlfriend, no money, no visitation rights for your child, sitting in a bedroom you rent that’s way overpriced because it’s within walking distance to the AA clubhouse, because you are dependent on that shit and don’t have a car either, and of course when you didn’t want it there was snatch galore being thrown your way but now you can’t get laid to save your dick and ain’t even got money for a whore and the fact that you’re even thinking about a whore is probably the reason you’re alone to begin with. Back to the loneliness bit. Fuck. Sometimes that rig full of tranquility dangling out of the arm with blood dripping out all over the bathroom floor sounds incredibly fucking appealing until I remember the aftermath which includes a hospital bed, barfing my guts out and shitting what brains I have left out of my infected body. So yeah, I could be grateful and thankful I’m not there but there’s got to be something more out there than this sitting in a room, walking to AA, and writing out this bullshit on the night before Thanks-fucking-giving. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. All right, I feel a little better now but not really. People just suck; myself included. But mostly the kind of people I like are the ones who suck. Ya know, the pretty ones without penises. Better they look, crazier they are. Just the way it is. I’ve known that for twenty years. Does that stop me from chasing the cutest tail in town? Of course not. Because it cures my self-loathing until it deepens my self-loathing. Fuck. Some days I wish I just let that infection fester a couple more days before I got to the hospital a few months ago, seep into my blood stream and shut down the old heart. I wouldn’t be here writing, jerking off, or smoking right now but really, who would miss me? I mean really miss me? Very few. But fuck, I think of those few and I keep trudging through this shit for them. Just for them some days although I think they’d be better off without me. Thanksgiving. Ha! The only thing I give is headaches and people sure aren’t thanking me for that. All right. Enough rambling. If you actually read all of this, I feel for you. You’re probably as lonesome and bored as I am tonight.