I Want to be a Drug Dealer When I Grow Up!

We never hear kids say that but I’m sure some kid out there has said that after watching Breaking Bad because he has shitty parents who isn’t supervising him, or worse – if they are supervising him and letting him watch it.

… I actually don’t have much to say on this topic. I wanted to write an entry but didn’t have anything that I wanted to write about so I’m just coming up with random shit here. Hopefully one or two good lines will come out of this…

Growing up, I knew very little about drugs. Actually, I knew nothing about them for the longest time. Until high school, I couldn’t even name you any drug other than cigarettes. That’s not even one right answer because it should be nicotine. In grade 9, they taught us about all kinds of drugs in health class and how they’re all bad and we shouldn’t take them. I don’t think I actually learned any of the names. The only thing I learned was that there was a difference between physical addiction and psychological addiction. In grade 11 English class, I forget what the assignment was but we had to write some shit and then peer edit them. I remember getting some crazy girl’s paper and she wrote about shooting up heroin but it was implied and because I knew nothing about drugs, I wrote a feedback saying that the whole story made no sense to me. She was outraged and showed the teacher. She probably wanted to get me in trouble for… for what exactly? For not understanding drug culture? The teacher was cool and didn’t think I did anything wrong. In fact, he was really cool because he was probably supposed to report her for writing that kind of shit but he was cool about it.

Until a couple years ago, I hardly knew anything about weed. When I was 19, I was at school hanging out with a few guys and then this random dude walked past who reeked of weed. I didn’t know that it was weed and I asked my friends if they also think that that guy had defecated himself. I know so little about drugs that it’s almost embarrassing.

…Okay, I guess I really didn’t have anything interesting to say on this topic. As for the title, I don’t really want to be a drug dealer, but only because I don’t want to talk with random drugged up people. I’m still very ignorant of drug culture. I assume drugged up people would be similar to drunks and people are already annoying enough when they’re sober. I’m kind of curious about smuggling though. If it pays well, why not? People who’ve read enough of my blog might think that I just want to stick stuff up my ass. I’m not interested in that and I think denying it just makes me sound like I’m in denial…

Please Don’t Raise Cheap Children

I was raised to be cheap and that has officially fucked with my entire life. Growing up, my parents always complained about the price of everything and I was taught to value cheap things because I don’t need expensive things. Because of the way that I was raised, my life is now completely fucked. I can’t hold jobs for more than a few months because I don’t need the jobs because I don’t need the money because I practically don’t use any money. The very fact that I’m alive is proof that I don’t need those jobs because I’ve quit them all and I’m still alive.

Now, I’m still living with my parents so that’s why I don’t need to pay bills and shit. Sooner or later, I’m going to need money, right? I think not. Partially because it pains me to spend money, there’s literally nothing I look forward to in life anymore. With nothing to look forward to, I don’t really need to extend this life. I’ve adapted to not needing to spend money to survive which led to not having any fun and now I’ve adapted to accept death. If you don’t want to raise a fuckin’ mess of a child like me, don’t raise your children to be cheap. Get them hooked on drugs so they feel the need to earn money to buy more drugs. At least they have a will to live.

I went to another branch of the library today to pick up a few dvds and met an ex co-worker. There was bullshit small talk and I jokingly asked if there were any rumors about me ever when I suddenly quit. She told me that some people thought I might have committed suicide. That actually made me happy. As social beings, humans like to share things. Since my life is pure misery, that just happens to be the only thing I can share.