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So I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Hey, I can be happy. I don't need some vicious cocktail of brain altering drugs just to numb the pain long enough for me to put my socks on."
Well good for you, you damned happy person.
Some of us aren't born with the happy gene.
Some of us sit around, drink wine, cry until 3am, and then pull ourselves to work the next morning with a raging hangover, just so we can repeat the process
But not me.
Sadness is for losers who don't know how to belittle others.
I walk through the streets, and smile, smile as a blind drunk man stumbles out of the bar at closing time and then vomits violently in the gutter.
That is reality.
You can have your flashy cars, and sexual relationships, and friends.
But THAT is raw reality.
Reality is every human being who will be sick in an alley.
Every teenage boy who will illegally gain access to gin and then try and fail to race his pet turtles.
Reality is the smooth, comforting cold of the bathroom tile.
I am human.
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