Originally Posted by BreakdownV1
Whenever you feel depressed, masturbate.
What if that's what caused the depression in the first place? Not everyone's hung like us ya know.
I'm down all the time. Why else do you think I'm a pot head? (SAY IT AIN'T SO!!!)
I mean, there's good days and there's bad ones. But I've been a trainwreck since the age of 7. You'd be too if you awoke to find your oldest brother would never be returning home. A person, who due to your own childhood innocence was busted for possesing coke, and dispised you for it.
Since his death, periodicaly I get panic attacks. I'll be laying in bed and suddenly, out of nowhere, a numbing surge takes over my body. And the only thoughts that circle my head are "I don't wanna die" over and over again. I'd be fine with that if it were controllable...but it always comes without warning.
But to give a little sight into why I am the way I am, since his death (and the loss of my innocence) I've always thought I had to cheer people up. Feeling the way I did at the time, I wanted no one, nor my self, to feel that way again. Not if I could help it, that is.
Sure...there's a time for laughter and there's a time for seriousness. But feeling that low at that age, it kinda hazes the fine line. So from then on, life to me was one joke after another. Unfortunately, not everyone likes a joker. So it flanked me a lot of shit.
I know on here I project the image of a happy go lucky prankster. But in life, I'm hardly anything close to it. (Anymore atleast) Not because that's not who I really am, but thanks to a little incident stemming back when I was 17.
The time when my mouth earned me a hospital visit. Not directly, but it didn't help matters.
I was hanging out with a group of friends at the local park near our houses. I took off by myself on my bike to head home. Half way there I stopped at the video store to get a soda. Before I went in, a maroon Chevy Celebrity drove by and someone in the car screamed "THERE'S PUTT!". I was stoned and thought nothing of it.
So I got my drink and was heading home. Feeling suspicious because of the car, I took the road before mine. Bad choice. As I'm climbing the first hill, they fly past me. Still oblivious to what's about to happen.
I reach the peak to see four people lining the street at the bottom. At this point I knew something was wrong. But instead of turning back and making a run for it (cuz that'd be the easy thing to do) I barrel ass it down the hill. I don't know why.
Maybe I thought I'd make it through'em? Maybe I thought I'd jump off my bike as it drove straight into one of'em, and I could take the rest? To this day, I couldn't tell ya what I'd planned. But I can tell you what happened.
I reached the bottom of the hill, and found myself flat on my ass. They were standing over me at this point, and said "you wanna talk shit now?" "I don't even know who the **** you are!" And then the mugging ensued.
I had a chance to escape after a couple of shots. But, being stoned and enraged, and them calling me a ***** for screaming...(Yup...I'm the *****!) I felt I had something to prove.
I didn't think I'd take'em all. But I'd be damned if I didn't get a couple shots in of my own. So I charged the ****ers. One nut shot later and they realized they had to step up their assault.
So I'm laying there on the sidewalk, four tough-guys pummeling me, trying to get my wallet at this point. And finaly someone comes outta there house. 2 seconds after they got what they came for.
The moral of the story: When someone knows you, and you don't "know" them, and they beat your ass...your trust in just about everyone goes out the window. So the overly open, joyus ****er I was died that day. Leaving me a paranoid bitter shell.
The funny thing is, no one in my life's seemed to notice the change. Atleast they've yet to say so. But hardly a day goes by I don't think of both those incidents. And sure...there might be something I could do about it...but I've yet to figure out what. So meh. I'll just puff a bowl and await the next anxiety attack.