Over My Cold Dead Body

Stop telling me to give up my vices. This body is about the only thing I truly own. If I want to kill it slowly that’s on me. I know smoking is bad for me, I know soda is bad for me, I know alcohol is bad for me. I don’t think any of them are worse for me than literally existing in this world without them. Is that a form of addiction? Sure. But so is hoarding billions of dollars or working 100 hours a week but we praise those people. Your priorities are not my priorities and it should be fine for that to be true.

I have been waiting to die since I was 13. I refuse to live the way my grandmothers did. I refuse to slowly whittle away in a house forgotten by everyone because jobs and money and status are more important. So I’m speeding the process along. I might fuck it up. I might over shoot and shorten my life by 30–40 years. I could have an unrelated brain aneurysm and die tomorrow. I’m not going to live my life avoiding the part I’ve most been looking forward to.

In the words of Denis Leary, a man with an outsize influence on my life: Happiness comes in small doses folks. It’s a cigarette butt, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm. You come, you smoke the butt, you eat the cookie, you go to sleep, wake up and go back to fucking work the next morning. ~No Cure For Cancer (1993)