Punished McGee
A fallen legend
Sometimes It's hard to admit that two best friends can bring the worst in each other, as they sometimes do. It's not the fault of either of them that they act as enablers for toxic and unlawful behavior. I still saw everything through that lense of childhood memories, you know? Thinking people never change and all that. But people do. They grow up. And sometimes that growth goes both ways.
I've had this dream this night about seeing a small fly flying around my room. As much as I wanted to end its life, I couldn't. Not because I'm sentimental over an insect. I just couldn't. No amount of kicking or slapping it in-between my pale arms would kill it. As if I am powerless over it. As much as insignificant and small that petty creature was, it got inside and all I could do is watch.
That itching sensation in my throat whenever I breathe. It's not going away soon, is it? After you take your first smoke, I guess, it's inside you now and there is nothing to do about it.
Have I become a cancer dancer overnight?
Well, I keep telling myself that those two gay suck-ups of air through that menthol flavoured mistake I've made were nothing to worry about. But the itching coughs I'm having periodically as I'm writing this tell me otherwise.
I knew perfectly well this would do me bad, knowing my health conditions, in which one extra push-up separates me from having the chocking hazard of my life. I should have known better. But all I wanted at that moment, as I was barely
holding myself together on my friend's bed, drunk, is to feel good about myself. Something I've denied myself to have for a long time.
Recently I ditched the job that was a spit of underpayment and total dissapointment. I ditched it civil-like so I needed some release to get through my shitty days. Unfortunaly I got more than I bargained for.
This is my healthy advice numbah two, boyos: *Don't excuse yourself to become the worst version of yourself, as you might soon regret it.*
I've had this dream this night about seeing a small fly flying around my room. As much as I wanted to end its life, I couldn't. Not because I'm sentimental over an insect. I just couldn't. No amount of kicking or slapping it in-between my pale arms would kill it. As if I am powerless over it. As much as insignificant and small that petty creature was, it got inside and all I could do is watch.
That itching sensation in my throat whenever I breathe. It's not going away soon, is it? After you take your first smoke, I guess, it's inside you now and there is nothing to do about it.
Have I become a cancer dancer overnight?
Well, I keep telling myself that those two gay suck-ups of air through that menthol flavoured mistake I've made were nothing to worry about. But the itching coughs I'm having periodically as I'm writing this tell me otherwise.
I knew perfectly well this would do me bad, knowing my health conditions, in which one extra push-up separates me from having the chocking hazard of my life. I should have known better. But all I wanted at that moment, as I was barely
holding myself together on my friend's bed, drunk, is to feel good about myself. Something I've denied myself to have for a long time.
Recently I ditched the job that was a spit of underpayment and total dissapointment. I ditched it civil-like so I needed some release to get through my shitty days. Unfortunaly I got more than I bargained for.
This is my healthy advice numbah two, boyos: *Don't excuse yourself to become the worst version of yourself, as you might soon regret it.*