We are the junkies. But they cannot give us anything that would be strong enough to make us change our mind and our habits. So we are the ones that dwell on the ocean of pills, smack, sniffs, drinks that were once our safe happy place. Their aim is to find the reason why we decided to swim with our eyes closed. But they would never get the answer they’re looking for just because it’s too simple: We fucking love our problems.
So hail to the dealer, and hail to the broken dreams of building a house, planting a tree, writing a novel and being successful. I am here, in this particular moment, and the future is a rope that is never tightened. The present is here, and the black surrounds me while I close my eyes and I sleep in the arms of something that will kill me in the end. But isn't it beautiful? I command and I decide whether to live or die, and my choice has already been made.