“…heroin drip, no more so…”

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I’ve written, a few times, about the rupturing of my appendix and its repercussions on me.

 

The pain.

 

The abject agony.

 

But, most of all, the beauty and wonder of Dilaudid (Hydromorphone Hydrochloride).

 

 

 

With all of the above firmly in mind, I’m compelled to say that the song accompanying this post wrenches a bitter smile from me.

 

While listening to it, I think of how I was a (barely) functional alcoholic for at least five years.

 

[Selena Gomez: “I know I’m acting a bit crazy…”]

 

While carefully perceiving every lyric, I reminisce on what a joy the drug they pumped into me twice a day was.

 

[“…strung out, a little bit hazy…”]

 

 

 

Even now – sipping whiskey and dragging off of a cigarette –  as the song pulses through my headphones, thinking on how many would say I never learn and how my behavior is self-destructive.

 

Counter-productive.

 

Downright foolish.

 

[“… hand over heart I’m prayin’, that I’m going to make it out alive…”]

 

 

 

Yet, simultaneously, her words have ~239,509,552 views.

 

~1,606,708 “likes”.

 

As most reading this are inclined to think I’m a pathetic excuse for an adult.

 

[“Save your advice, ’cause I won’t hear

 

you might be right, but I don’t care.

 

There’s a million reasons why I should give you up…”]

 

Thus, I state, in a pleading and shaking voice:

 

My veins want what they want.

 

 

 

Heh.

 

Just kidding.

 

Even I don’t buy my bullshit reason.

 

Funny how many buy her’s.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω