It’s one rule, basically.
You count to ten… then swallow.
It’s the same attitude you’ve hung on to for the past zillion years.

Even when you’re sick, you can’t help it. The virus always finds its way through your body, your mind, your heart. If only you could sneeze it all out; everything. One mighty blow of salvation.
But you can’t.
You gotta swallow the goddamn pill… and hope and pray that by the time you wake up, you’ll be a new man.

When you’re on medication, everything looks different. Colors are different, smells are different. The way you look at them… and the way they look at you. Suddenly your mind starts making up shit just to be able to feel normal, like it’s in control, like the steering wheel’s all yours baby.

Deep down… you know nothing’s true, but you still believe in it all. You have to.
You need to.
You’re not a survivalist. You’re not a survivor. You’re one tiny fuck up in world that fits you real nice.

The clean suit you wear, the businessman handshake, the familiar smile, the words you’ve said over and over, the clean shave, the short hair cut, the professional bullshit… all of zero value when not accompanied by major sucking.

You start to vision their conspiracies, their treasons. The way they took you for granted so many times. The way they want you right where you are, down there, so they could look at you from their ivory tower and smile, knowing that the world is still safe. You start to see them for what they are, maggots, filthy maggots crawling up your spine, sucking your blood vessels dry. You start to wonder if these are all hallucinations. You lose control, you lose balance, you lose hope. Everything gets blurry. Everybody is a ghost. Your mind loses its structure as all your men line up to form one digestive power exerted over that damn pill. You lose reason… you lose faith in ethics. Reality loses its value, shapes lose their dimensions… and everything starts to seem like one heavy fluid that you sink in with no hope in redemption, all bottomless and proud. Then your body hits something. It’s the truth. But you shut your eyes and look away. You don’t wanna know. You swim away and sink deeper. You don’t want to know. If there’s any certainty in your life, it’s that you fear the truth. That small ounce of trust that you keep in your vault is priceless. You don’t trust anyone and giving away that last ounce kills it all. Without hope… you’ll be like the rest of them zombies.

The truth is, with the right amount of sedative… we’re all zombies aren’t we? Your red nose becomes a tourist attraction and your eyes become swollen and warm. Your ears… can’t hear them talk about you behind your back… You can’t hear them laughing.

Deep down, you know you’re get back at them for the shit you never heard, for that knife you felt in your back. Deep down… you envy their treason. If only you’d have thought of it earlier. You’ve become one with them. Adaptation was Darwin’s fucked up theory whose primary ideology and thesis factor… was survival.
Deep down… you know you’ll get your revenge.

More cough medicine? I know you don’t want to think, to wonder about what may… to fear, to feel suckered.

Tough luck, ol’ champ…

Such a waste of key taps.

To the worst birthday ever.
Cheers…