Sobriety Is Super Overrated

Fun Times

I'm high.

Very high.

Incredibly high.

And all the shit in my veins just feels so fucking good.

And being high seems to get me in the mood to do something crazy and reckless. Something other than sitting here on this gross mattress and wishing I were dead. Because, let's face it, sitting here and wishing you were dead is kind of lame.

I get up off the mattress and walk right out the door. Might as well attend a few parties. Go to a few gay bars and find a few hookups to have a bit of fun with. I might as well enjoy it while this high lasts. Once I come back down it will be nothing but haunting and screaming and voices in my head. And the memories. The war and the gunshots and the death. Death all around and dead bodies all around. I barely got out with my own. It isn't fair. All these bad things that keep happening to me and having him taken away from me.

I guess nothing in really fair in the real world.

I walk down the street to the nearest gay bar. It's raining outside, but I don't mind. I briefly remember when I was living on the streets. When it was raining I would always have to sleep in a garbage or recycling bin to get protection from the rain. Not exactly pleasant but it was better than being wet. I don't really remember those times too well though. I was too high. High all the time. The drugs didn't just block out the bad memories, they seem to have blocked out everything. Sometimes I wish I could have remembered it. Remembered the good stuff at least. It's strange how the memories I want to let go of never seem to go away but the memories I want to hold onto never stay. I don't want to forget Dave. Of course I don't. It just hurts. It hurts me not to be with him. I just need a distraction right now. A distraction from all the pain and the ghosts and the screams and the memories. If you were me wouldn't you want a distraction too?

But you're not me.

And you don't get it.

No one ever got it.

No one but Dave.

I miss him too much. More than is good for me. I. Just. Need. Him. Not even in a sexual way, I just want him here with me. Beside me.

God dammit. I'm crying again but it's too late to stop now. All the tears are streaming down my face and I just can't stop them. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts. More than the ghosts screaming at me twenty four seven and more than the dead bodies in Vietnam. I almost wish I had never met him. If I had never met him then I would have never been able to feel sad about him. Why did he have to make me fall in love with him? Why did I have to fall for him? Why? Dave? Are you there? Who am I shitting, of course he fucking isn't!

Finally I stop crying. I wipe away the last of my tears and I walk two more blocks over to the bar. Thankfully
there's no bouncer and basically everyone is allowed in. As soon as I walk in the bright lights fill my vision. So does the beautiful spotlight on the male strippers. The one preforming right now looks lovely in his black lingerie. He's got a cute butt. And let's just say that he fills out those underwear great. For a second I manage to pull my eyes off him for s spilt second to be able to notice that a poster on the wall advertising a drag show next week.

"Now now, Klaus. This is no time to be distracted by strippers. You need to get your hands on some pills first." I say myself. Frankly, everybody here is high as shit so nobody really notices the fact that I'm talking to myself. Except someone did.

"If you're looking for pills, I just bought a few dozen and I'd be happy to give a cutie like you some of mine." I turn around to see a cute blond stripper currently taking a break from his job. He looks familiar. He looks a bit like Dave.

"Yay!" I exclaim in fake joy. "Gimme gimme." I reach out for him to pass me the pills. Then I can be on my way. He looks too much like Dave. And I don't want to think about him right now. I want to be free from my burdens of remembering. Of course I'll never forget Dave. I'll never forget any of those people who I've seen die. They're all important and good people who deserve not to be forgotten. I just need something else right now. Something other than sadness.

"Just follow me to my dressing room, sweetheart."

I giggle. It's been a longtime since anyone called me that. In fact, Dave used to call me that.

I follow him out a black door and down a dimly lit hallway. There are a few people passed out in the hall, and magazine covers from porno mags are covering the walls. I walk passed a brown haired guy drinking away on the floor and we enter his dressing room.

There's little more than a mirror and pile of clothes in the corner. There's barely enough room for the two of us, but we manage to squeeze in. He closes the door behind us. There's a broken lightbulb on the ceiling offering very little light, but just enough so that I can still see everything around me. There's a folding chair by the mirror and a bag of pills on the counter. I sit down and open the bag while he stands awkwardly pressed against the door.

I open the plastic bag to see a beautiful rainbow of colours. So many different options. I'm almost tempted to take them all. I lick my lips at the sight of them and swallow three dry. I hold the bag out to him.

"Here. They're yours after all. And I didn't want to come off as greedy."

He took one. He looked nervous.

Wait a second. Was he expecting us to fuck? Was that why he seemed so weirded out and strange? I'm open to the idea, but I'm not willing to pay, nor do I have that kind of money on me.

I pulled the bag back and took three more.

The world was finally starting to look fuzzy. I was feeling great. Greater than ever. Greater than great. This is good. It feels good. I forgot how good it was to be this high. It feels good. I feel good for once. For once I don't feel like a complete piece of shit. Like the total failure the world makes me feel like.

"I'm bored." I whine at the guy standing pressed up against the door. "Let's go dance!" I suggest. I can hear that the DJ has finally showed up and is mixing some cool beats. Or at least they sound cool enough when you're high.

Pull him out the door with me and run down the hall. He's going to dance with me whether he wants to or not. He's so beautiful. When I look at his face all I can see is Dave though. And then I just get sad. Once we're on the dance floor I pull him closer to me. Not in a sexual way. Just closer. He's warm. And blushing. I didn't know strippers could look so flustered, but he's tomato red. It's actually kind of cute. He matches my off beat dancing.

But then I'm dizzy. Swaying back and forth and back and forth. I feel sick. The lights are throbbing in my eyes. It's too bright, but before I know it, it goes too black.

And everything is dark.

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I'm probably just going to publish more frequently, but just expect at least a chapter a week.

Also thank you to everyone who voted/read this garbage story, I really appreciate it.