the media

she asked me tonight if i felt guilty. she asked if i felt shame or remorse. apparently my chemical diet doesnt promote a healthy lifestyle, and instead conveys a lack of ethical values. -there was a whole bottle of vodka in the freezer four days ago. a CHEAP bottle. a HUGE JUG. you dont feel that there is anything wrong with the fact that its gone now, that the entire bottle is gone? you dont care?

i looked into the blizzard outside. the first of the year. two feet of soft cold white blankets the street. i think about what she is asking. im twenty nine years old and ive embraced crime and ive embraced suicide and i have worn it like a badge. ive worn it in defense, introducing myself as a lowlife as a pervert as scum and taking the judgment away. stealing it back, that is how i protect myself.

i was born from a brilliant schizophrenic and raised by strangers of the state. i have been homeless. i have starved. i have taken care of myself. i have a beautiful one bedroom at the top of a brownstone in a great neighborhood in new york. my house is toasty warm and safe from the freezing cold outside. i have an enviable position in the field of my choice. i have a few close friends. i have reasons. i came from nothing. i saw the bottom. i have suffered and i have survived. i have plenty of reasons.

and she wants to know if there is even a pang of guilt. of shame. for drinking a bottle of vodka, a bottle that i bought with the sole intention of devouring mercilessly, in less than a week. she wants to know if i feel ugly. she wants to know if i care?

i took a sip of my drink.

-no. i dont.

end of fucking story.