More Irishness

The only one who gets it will get it, which explains things. Ba-fucking-oo.
I just wanted to share a thought with the universe. Nothing deep or meaningful.
I don't know who the fuck I am supposed to be.
I can't be who I used to be --for various reasons. Who I was might very likely get me thrown in jail nowadays. Plus, who I was seems to have worsened into some evil asshole anyway, so I can't be THAT anymore.
And on this medicated existence, I feel, but not really. It's like I am watching my life and not really in it. I don't really know how to describe it.
Tourism?
I feel things, but not with any depth, which is probably good, given that I'm a prick when at full-bore.
Most of my non-work life is spent sleeping or lounging. I just do not have any desire to do anything else.
I've gained a medium-sized pygmy in weight, so my cardio-vascular health is probably none-too exemplary.
So here I am, 42, fat, drugged, and happy, sort of.
I kind of feel like I just don't fit anymore.
And I'll be honest, I see death as something of a relief in a way. If it is oblivion, then woot. If it is the white tunnel and meeting old friends and relatives, then even better.
I mean, what's the point of hanging around for another 30 to 40 years?
I mean, really?
I'm not thinking of doing myself in --at least not in any dramatic sense involving firearms or crashing cars. I'll probably die of a heart attack or something, if I die.
Watching blood shoot out of me recently after a routine roto-rootering I now have to undergo for some unknown reason, I realized that the will to live is still strong in me on the lizard-brain level. I called for help and was ready to do what it took to stay with the living.
So I still suffer from the same stupid shit that I came down with in 2005. What now? What for?
Can't go back, and there seems to be no forward.
I'm just bitching.
Drunk Blogging!
Brought to you by the proud distillers of Bushmills Honey Whiskey.

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