I had vices. They included:
- Drinking too much
- Eating too much
- Brains (in zie zombie sense)
- Speaking solely in double entendres
- A love of ginger hair that was so dense it caused a dip in space time
To begin with I rid myself of them. And this was good, if a little dry.
Now, however, I have entered a new phase, in which I allow myself to do some of these things, yet do so responsibly.
This makes me strong, like Superman.
It also, I think, makes me some sort of an adult, like Superman’s adopted parents.
Although I’m not quite that grown up yet.
I’ve realised that I do still have one vice.
And it’s possibly the worst of them all.
At the moment I’m single. And I like it, mainly, as I’m getting a lot done.
Sometimes though, I just get this awful feeling, like I’m fading out of my own life, and I need someone else there to bring me back into focus. And I’m truly, wholly pathetic when I’m like that.
“How pathetic, on a scale of 1-10?”
The other day, and this is no joke, I started crying because I saw a butterfly, and it just looked so unbelievably fragile that I couldn’t stop worrying about it.
“Oh. So probably about a 97 then.”
If not higher.
Anyway, having just smashed in all of my other vices, I now realise that this feeling is just another urge which I must destroy. And it totally is too, because it’s not like I’m fussed about falling in love right now, and I certainly don’t want some sweaty stranger rubbing herself up and all over me me, so what is the point in these feelings really?
Like with the other vices, the urges come when I’m tired- my brain trying to make excuses for its own shiteness.
“Well, maybe if you did have booze/food/girls/guns you would feel magically better!?”
Nein brain! I will feel better by making my various wonts subjugate to my mighty will. Because where there is a will(is), there is a way!
“How are you going to wean yourself of girl?”
Dunno actually. Possibly by striking myself in the crotch every time I see one?
To be fair though, the problem isn’t girls, the problem is that I feel like I need one. Like an addiction that only gets stronger the longer you detox.
This isn’t good, because you’ll sometimes end up around girls that you really have no business being around, because you need your sweet fix of lady smack, and when they come out with:
“something absolutely fucking mental,”
you’ll try and be nice and understanding, rather than saying:
“THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR BRAIN, AND YOU NEED TO TAKE IT FAR, FAR AWAY FROM ME BEFORE YOU INFECT MINE.”
Because although I am generally quite nice, I’m certainly not as nice as I’ve sometimes portrayed myself.
“How are you bad then?”
Well, for a start:
- I sign up to give money to charities, discontinue the direct debit as soon as I see the money coming out of my bank, and then save their phone number under the name ‘do not answer’ to avoid explaining myself
- I use the very real possibility that global warming is going to destroy the planet as an excuse for my increasingly bourgeois lifestyle
- If the ambient noise is loud enough, I will wantonly fart in public
No, I don't know why I'm such a big faced goon in this picture
If you’re excessively nice and understanding, it’s hard to end a relationship, but sometimes they need to end.
But I was only so nice because I couldn’t have my supply of girl interrupted.
I do need to interrupt my flow though. I do need to not be so needlessly nice.
Essentially I’m worse now?
P.S. Since I wrote this, everything has changed. More on that, next time, at Recent Mistakes!