Occasionally

Occasionally I wish my parents had bought a proper ceiling fan, one that wouldn’t break under the weight of someone hanging from their neck. There are days when I come home and beer hits my lips before the door is locked. There are other days when this is not the case, but the former outnumber the latter. Some days I feel like shooting someone, other days I feel like shooting myself. Occasionally I think about setting my apartment building on fire and watching as tenants scramble to decide what to save from the flames. Sometimes I think about setting my work on fire and jamming the exits. Some days I wonder how long it would take work to notice if I did nothing at all. There are some days when it seems like a good idea to strangle the unruly neighbors in the projects behind my building. Other days it doesn’t seem like such a good idea, but the former outnumber the latter. Some days I feel like I should shoot my TV, others I feel I should attack with fists. Once in a while I feel like crying my eyes out. Sometimes I do cry my eyes out. Some days I want to shoot up again. Some days I want to snort coke until my nose bleeds. From time to time I think about allowing my car to veer off the road at 80 mph. Every now and again I think about becoming homeless. Some days I don’t feel like brushing my teeth, applying deodorant, showering, putting on clean clothing or cleaning up my beard. Some days I don’t want anything in my stomach but alcohol. Some days I think about quitting and often I think about shooting my boss in the process. Occasionally I feel like ceasing contact with every human being who knows me. There are times when I hate myself. There are times when I don’t, but the former outnumber the latter. Sometimes I think about blowing up buildings. Sometimes I think about how painful drowning would be, other times I think about drowning, period. There are some days when I don’t want to leave the apartment. Sometimes I don’t answer my phone because I want to be alone. Other times I think about making people hate me, so I will be alone. From time to time I think about giving up. Some days I think about how long it would take me to die from not drinking water. More often than not I think about how it would feel. Every once in a great while I think about punches I’ve taken. Sometimes I even think about ones I’ve given, but the former outnumber the latter. There are days when I don’t care about global hunger or AIDS. There are also days when I don’t care about the unemployed or the struggling. There are days when I’m the most selfish person on earth…many. Frequently I think about how it would feel to be tortured. There are days when I think about joining the Army. Some days I think about what it would be like to live with the knowledge that you have killed someone. From time to time I think about who will come to my funeral. Occasionally I think I’m sick for assuming my parents will be there. Sometimes I think about what I will be like to be fired. Every so often I think about what it means to be a failure. Some days I want to go apeshit with my credit card. Other days I want to go apeshit with my .45, but I won’t say which outnumbers the other. There are days when I wonder if you can throw a CD hard enough to decapitate someone. Other days I wonder if people hope their children don’t turn out like me. I wonder, from time to time, how much of a disappointment I am to my family. There are days I loathe my brother for being the favorite. Some days I wish my mom had a miscarriage. On other days I wish I was stillborn…better story. More often than not I wonder where that bright eyed kid I used to be disappeared to. More often than that I wonder how I managed to kill him. There are many days when I think about my friends who are more successful than me. Many more still when I think about the ones who are happier than me. I often wonder what to do tonight. I wonder daily what people see in me. I especially wonder how the hell I got the woman I did. There are many days when I don’t understand what she sees in me. Sometimes I want to know just how much I can drink before I die. Sometimes I wonder if drinking alone makes me an alcoholic. Sometimes I have a bad case of denial. I frequently wonder how and when I will die. Some days I want to get in bed and stay there. A lot of the time I wonder how long it would take for someone to realize I had died if I just went unexpectedly. I think about how thinking about my death probably makes me insane, or in need of help or counseling. I think about how I don’t care. From time to time I think about the amount of money I have spent on marijuana over my lifetime. I try not to think about how much I’ve spent on alcohol. Often I wonder if I will pass this on to my children. More often than that I wonder if I’ll live to have children. I think about a lot of things over the course of a day. I don’t know why. I try to put them out of my head but I can’t. Sometimes I think it is strange that I have more than one voice in my head. I find it stranger still that they say different things but have the same voice. Often I wonder who I am. I very frequently wonder what my purpose is, but as I grow older…I wonder if I have one at all.