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This is usually limited to alcohol. I have known people who brewed tea with opium leaves, but these same people were amateur botanists. Therefore, I am willing to accept—as common knowledge—that most people aren’t willing to spend their time cultivating poppy seeds. So, for purposes of my discussion, I am comfortable with the assumption that drinking equals alcohol consumption.

Now, in my experience, there are two schools of alcohol consumption.

First, there are the people who like the uninhibited feeling of a good drunken party. I find that these people evolve into the social drinkers: a couple cocktails at a party, get hammered on New Year’s Eve, sure, but no more black outs and strange people in your bed on hang over mornings.

When you hit your mid thirties, the adolescent fascination with suffering starts get boring. You begin to judge the quality of your time by how good you feel afterwards. Being hung over all day Sunday is just no fun.

Then, there is, of course, the other school of consumption, the Alcoholics. An alcoholic is an addict, a person born with a genetic disorder. The alcoholics can not control their frenzy for the drug. The drug consumes them and makes them feel invincible, invulnerable. They act unconsciously and impulsively on the drug. It makes them feel very powerful.

I have listened to many recovering alcoholics preach the virtue of the drink. They always have sincere, watery eyes. To them, alcohol is the savior. Alcohol is air and water and food. Alcohol is necessary—required—to feel alive.

Let’s be clear, these people don’t “choose” this “lifestyle.” That’s like saying a Cancer sufferer is really into the Chemo Thing.

And by the way, fuck you! How dare you blame sick people for their illness! It’s ignorant and illogical, and I’ll prove it.

Let’s assume — for the sake of your ludicrous premise — that Alcoholism is not a genetic disorder. Let’s assume that alcoholics do indeed consciously choose to ingest poisonous amounts of alcohol.

If that is the preferred theory, we must conclude that these Alcoholics are openly committing a gradual public suicide.

Doesn’t that classify as a mental instability?

In other words, even if they are alcoholics by choice, doesn’t the making of such a destructive choice seem like possible evidence of a severe mental illness, maybe?

Aren’t the mentally ill in need of treatment, instead of cages?

Does it even matter if  addiction is a physical illness or a mental illness?

Shouldn’t we be more concerned that the addiction phenomenon—no matter the cause of it—is running rampant across our planet?

Do you really think that locking all the sick people up in prison is going to work?

Do you honestly believe that most of the people in prisons right now are not desperately in need of medical treatment?

Have you ever thought about any of this?

Do you think it’s time you turn off the TV and do so?

Our world is falling apart.

Does anyone notice?

We can do better than this.

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Numb. Numb.  I have to try harder. I don’t want to feel this anymore. I don’t want these voices floating from my floors. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. You aren’t supposed be here. You should have died ten years ago.

Numb myself. Numb myself. Numb the voices down.

I just want to sleep. I just want to be unconscious. No more. No more. No more thinking. I’m so exhausted with thinking. I can’t figure this out. It’s beyond me. I’m too stupid. My father was right all along.

Stop it, Tommy. No more crying to dehydration. No more feelings at all. What the fuck do you have to be sad about? My mother’s voice surrounds me. Her life is worse off than mine. What am I complaining about?

Numb. Numb. Numbed. I’ve numbed myself down. I’ve numbed myself, finally. I’m staying in bed. I don’t need the world. I don’t need your kindness, your love and your pity. No more. No more of it all.

Just leave me down in the darkness, numbed. Leave me with myself to numb myself, numb myself, numb myself down–turn Tom completely off.

I’m dead. I’m numb. I’m dying. I’m not supposed to be here. I should have died already. I can’t cause anymore trouble for the many people who love me. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.

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