Saturday, March 20, 2010


only drink water.

My urine comes out neon yellow and stains the toilet.

I turn on the shower and vomit bile all over the tub, shower curtain, and toilet.

I hang my head in the toilet for two hours.

I do a line off the rim of the toilet and am able to walk to my bed.

I ask for another Valium and wake up three hours later to evening.

I am the son and heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.

-The Smiths

I was a part of a problem that I couldn't control. I couldn't speak or move in the presence of others and I would shake like an epileptic when any attention was paid to me.

I used to blame caffeine and alcohol, but I know otherwise.

In the presence of others, the simple act of receiving change from the purchase of a box of cigarettes would turn into a drawn out fit of hysteria in which a nickel falling into my hand felt like hours that I couldn't escape from.

I would lay plans for coffee, the cable man, and my manager in which I would say "panic attack" and exit promptly.

The worst was eye exams and haircuts; where people would concentrate all of their efforts on me.

I'm sure many an optometrist and beautician felt that I was some vagrant drunk in the fits of delirium tremens and expressed the tabletop story to friends in neat paragraphs that ended with "know what was wrong with him."

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