Happy with life.

Recounting any of the many drug runs is a spotty, short vision. From red eyed trips from the Mexican neighborhoods through the subways, to coke fueled drives home across state lines, they all lose their details and meaning.

Once upon a time, I tried to drown myself
I kept my head under running water
but that didn't matter since my face was pointed the wrong way.
Do you know how many people will try to die today?
Only to fail and realize that it isn't their time,
That on the next attempt they'd use knives,
that the only thing worse than being alive was trying to die,
but you can't.

I used to think that suicide was the hero's way out
that only the brave and mentally fit could plan out their own demise.
Only those above the world could look their loved ones in the eyes, smile
then walk away forever. Knowing it was the last time they could be held.
That's why i only tried once. I was too young and the jack danielles to chase the pills was too much.
The taste that I've acquired once over powered my will to see god, and my stomach listened.
Because at 15 pills and alcohol are more easily obtained than, say, a smith and wesson.

Fuck, maybe that never really happened.
It was my excuse for why i remained unhappy with what little life i had lived.
I was an excuse for when i fucked up anything that i had going for me.
"I would have been able to have a steady relationship, if only i wasn't so crazy that i tried to off myself"

It was late into my second attempt that i realized that my first was a joke.
The second time around wasn't so planned out, but a subtle trend.
There are only so many things that you try to do while high before it becomes dangerous.
Flying on a couple hits of acid and leaning over the guard rail of an overpass,
Sure it's a rush, but so is fucking an AIDS patient.

Begging for things to be cut short--