AngusKyprianou

Maybe we like the pain. Maybe being human is about feeling pain, just because the recovery period makes us feel so much better. In theory at least. Maybe we’re programmed to be this way. To constantly punish ourselves day in day out because the pain of living out ways the gratitude we never feel for being alive. Without pain we wouldn’t feel real. And then I ask myself; why do I keep beating my liver with vodka? 

Because the room spins around me, colours blur, my heart pounds in my ear and it feels so good when I stop.

It’s just too bad that we can’t face all of life’s challenges with a pack of cigarettes and a cheap bottle of wine. I mean, I tried for a while, but I’m told they consider it ‘self-infliction’.  I used too wonder if we’re ever meant to be happy. I mean, come on, how many times a week can something else happen. I appreciate the small things, I do, but above all I appreciate laughter. Laughter ages the face but those are the wrinkles we don’t mind. If I lived a life of laughter I’d die a happy man. If I had died on Wednesday moning I would have died a wrinkleless man; unhappy, alone and without living the life I was born to live.  At the end of the day, the fact that I had enough strength to  fight, to call for help shows courage- and to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

I like the sound of rain.

I like sex in the thunder.

I like the cold.

If I look at you it doesn't mean I'm listening.

I am more depressed than I have ever been before.