got a secret? life of closet junkie
I take lots of medication — enough to kill someone or, at least, fry his/her brain leaving him/her possibly in a coma. If I don’t take my medication, I often do stupid things as I fight the demons in my head empty-handed. I guess I’M A CLOSET JUNKIE — not that anyone cares.
I’ve already overdosed proving that I’m a miserable nobody — as a mere gutter-ridden addict dying for his next fix. I’ve had my annoying highs (jokes) and nasty lows — flirting with death (suicide). Of course, cheating death (surviving by the skin of my teeth) is a whole different story. In either case, I still face the romanticism and beauty of death in its hypnotizing eyes and laugh at its seductive voice.
This is the secret life of an evil man, a sadist, degenerate and dirty man. It’s too obvious and, as such, no further explanation would be needed.
This is the secret life of sick man, whom no one cared to help for almost four decades. Antipsychotics, a psychiatrist, a psychotherapist and my so-called faith have helped although making me an addict in thousands of ways.
This is the not-so-secret life of a man who hates himself yet must live for his innocent children.
This is the not-so-secret life of a Christian with Pagan traditions influenced by craft. I’m a closet atheist, a closet Pagan, a mere bastard going with the flow of the Church and its rites.
I’M A LIE, A CHRISTIAN AND A VULGAR SHAM!
C’est la vie, merde, merde, beaucoup merde!