ill never forget September 12, 2001. I bought a haro bicycle in Pennsylvania cos i was gonna really hurt myself skateboarding(Its harder than it looks).
My psychiatrist has tourettes. i spend 6 minutes of my 15 minute sessions staring out the window while he contorts his face and machine fire blinks. The East Saint Louis skyline mocking all my failures.
"I guess it's hopeless" I say, starring at hollowed out shells of buildings. "Or i'll be hopeless for the next 6 months to a year, i mean" backpeddling so i don't get reinvoluntarily commited.
"Are you having suicidal thoughts?" DR. Blinks then asks. Dammit i should have known never to use the words hopeless or pointless or over it among medical proffesionals. Also never start yelling "I want a lawyer!" in the emergency room. after yelling "I want a divorce!"...totally frowned upon.
"Not really...its just brain chemistry right?" Scientifically speaking all my dopamine for several years was depleted in a five day period and what the fuck i forget most of it. How did good feelings make me do such bad things? Maybe i felt empowered. cos right now i could masturbate on a roller coaster while gambling and huffing paint and it all would feel weak, tired, and useless. nothing feels good. i eat lots of cookies.
I was just as bad at freestyle biking as i was at skateboarding. The only advantage to the bike was the brakes. I learned one and half tricks but If one would have taken a still picture on those vacant parking lot tours of 2001... id prolly have looked pretty rad.
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