Kill the Thing

Let’s get honest here. Whatever is controlling you is not your friend. It’s a bastard. The line, the social media like, the drink, the smoke, the touch or whatever else is making your life decline is just bad weight on your back. It soothes you because it wants you to keep it going. And you’ll blame yourself before the thing. It’s not the cocaine, it’s my manners that cause me to talk way too much. It’s not the alcohol abuse that makes me violent, I just need to try meditation. Etc.

    Look, it may be a choice, and you could go moderate, but why? Put that fucker on an iceberg and push them both away. Turn around and don’t look back. You don’t need anything it offers you don’t have in yourself. If Augustine could go celibate and keep writing long scrolls and Bukowski could give up the sauce at all, you’re fine. Whatever it is. Golf, social media, general internet, too much sex, fasting, religion, trivia, heroin, or anything else that you find yourself bowing before, while simultaneously denying your life is being sacrificed to this ridiculous inanimate God.
   Whatever you’re loving, it’s not your friend. And don’t make the decision a mournful goodbye. Kick it to the curb. It’s been an awful roommate, never doing the dishes, flinging shit at the wall. Don’t romanticize its draw. Just keep going. The worst thing in life is to be a slave to a blind master.
     No nostalgia. No regret. Just move move move till it’s gone, till the oceans of time consume it’s power completely and the evil beast drowns. If it yells promises, ignore. If it reminds you of your fun times, throw the middle finger. If it begins to claim it always will have power over you, take your strong foot to it’s brow and push down.  Bonus points for saying “you’re terminated, fucker.”

Cheers.

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