And Then, Depression Set In...

All Things Being Equal, I'd Just As Soon Smoke Some Weed.

I started out writing this huge post on my current state of affairs. It was running 2000+ words, so I had to shitcan it and cut to the chase.

Bottom line is this: My shit's fucked up. I could fix my shit, but I don't give a fuck. I don't give a fuck because, well, I just don't, 'cause my shit's been fucked up for too long. What's the fucking point...

This past Friday, Doctor B. is all "Dude, you need to fix your shit." I'm like, "Doc, I just don't give a fuck. Haven't for some time."

Doctor B. says "Look, you're still young, you've got time to fix your shit and still manage a real life, kids, the whole shebang." I'm saying, "Yeah, it'd be nice, but my shit's fucked up, and I'd just as soon sit on my ass and watch shit fall apart than get up and do sweet fuck-all about it."

Doctor B. says "Dude, that's fucked up. I'm writing you this scrip for some happy pills, so you'll start to give a fuck." I'm all, "Fuck! Not the got-damned happy pills! I like my brain, even if it's fucked up!"

Doctor B. says, "Fuck no, dude! These are righteous happy pills. Just let me know if you feel like killing yourself. That happens every so often." I'm all, "FUCK THAT!"

In the end, Doctor B. prevailed. I'm going on the Prozac this week, in an effort to break loose of this all-encompassing depression that's been riding my ass for a while now.

I have no clue how this will turn out. I have no idea how it will affect my blogging. I don't know if it'll turn me into a complete asshole. (I know, I know, how could you tell the difference...)

There it is, friends & neighbors. 100% disclosure. You'll have a ringside seat for the main event.

Let me know how it works out.