by Anyone (who drinks)
I feel so empty today. I have no ideas, no ambition, no plans. Let the world go by, just leave me alone. Don’t tell me anything new. It is too much strain on my mind.
But I do get tired of myself. I know I should mow the lawn or at least straighten up this room. I would watch some television,but these days the programs don't make much sense. It is hard to think when I have this buzz in my mind.
I get confused so easily. I tried to pay some utility bills yesterday, but I couldn’t find my checkbook. I don’t even know if I have any money left in the bank. It takes a lot of money to buy enough beer each week. But I have to have beer. Alcohol is my life.
I didn’t plan for it to be this way. I used to have energy, hope, enthusiasm. Where did it go? Maybe those people were right to tell me not to drink so much. But now I can’t stop. I guess I am addicted. Every cell in my body craves alcohol.
I know I must be ruining my liver. That’s what some people say. But usually I feel pretty good. I haven’t been sick in a long time. I’m probably lucky, and I won’t get cancer or anything serious. Yet I worry about it sometimes.
Sometimes I wish someone would make me stop drinking. I can’t do it myself now. I’ve gone too far, been drinking for too many years. I didn’t plan to do that. But now I am too proud to ask anyone for help. That would make me look weak.
It is important to appear strong. People despise you if you look weak. My neighbors must admire my determination to take life easy. They have to go to work every day, but I can stay home and sleep... and drink... and sleep some more.
Oh, sometimes I am so tired of myself. Yet it was tiring to work at that department store. They made me do all the heavy lifting. They wouldn’t pay me what I wanted. I am worth more than minimum wage. Can’t they see that?
This world isn’t fair. They put down people like me. The government sometimes gives me money because they think I am handicapped, unable to work. But I’m really pretty strong. I like to deceive the government and get all the free stuff I can.
My life is still empty. I don’t want to do anything, and I wonder why. Someday I’ll figure it out if I think about it enough. Right now, I feel sleepy. I’ll get another can of beer and then take a nap. That’s the best thing to do. That’s what I enjoy. Everyone should do what they enjoy, right? Then you feel peaceful and calm... but empty.
ANSWERS FROM THE BIBLE
The person who strays from common sense will end up in the company of the dead. Prov. 21:16 NLT
Those who love pleasure become poor; wine and luxury are not the way to riches. Proverbs 21:17 NLT
for though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again, but the wicked are brought down by calamity. Proverbs 24:16 NIV
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
WHY WORK?
WHY WORK?
People were dumb to spend their lives working. He knew the smart way to get along. Just do what you want, and people will help you.
He used to have a job. Oh, he had worked hard, but he never got rich. He had worked in an office, he had sold real estate. Then he had done landscape work with some friends. They were fun to be with, but the work was hard and dirty. So he had quit,
Or maybe he had been fired. He couldn’t remember. The other guys drank some, but they didn’t want to drink all day. He used to drink only at night when he was alone. But when he didn’t have anything useful to do, he drank all the time.
Where were those guys now? Still working on lawns, he guessed. They live in that other state where I used to live, he thought. That’s why I don’t have any friends.
Well, I don’t need friends. They are busy going to work. But I don’t want to work.
The truth was, he felt sad about his life. He had made mistakes when he was younger. He often didn’t feel able to cope with life and yet he couldn’t tell anyone. To admit his need was to become weak in the eyes of other people. He couldn’t even tell his parents about this.
His mother nagged at him all the time to clean up, and sober up. So he was angry with her and often put down the phone when she called. He knew what to do but he just couldn’t do it.
He tried to tell his dad how he felt. Lately he had started calling him often, sometimes talking for nearly an hour. He told him nearly everything, because his dad just listened and encouraged him to try to do better. He never said anything negative.
But he couldn’t admit to his dad that he was depressed. He had decided long ago that he would never ask for help. Sometimes he asked for cigarettes when he had none and was feeling nervous. But he never asked for help to stop drinking.
At first, drinking was fun. It made him feel superior. He knew how to get the advantage over other people. He wouldn’t allow them to cheat him. He had never stolen anything, and he never did drugs. Drinking beer all day just hurt himself. It didn’t hurt anyone else, did it?
Well, maybe it hurt his parents. It made them feel sad. But what could he do about that? Drinking alcohol was fun. Sometimes it made him laugh at the world. When he started feeling sad, he just drank more often. It was the solution to every problem!
If only he could get his courage up to become different. He liked that optimistic young man he used to be when he was in college. He was going to conquer the world and become rich.
He took his first drink on a dare. A classmate dared him to try it out, scoffing that he would never to it since he had grown up in church. So he had taken that first drink. It was bitter, and he didn’t like it much. But he had to show people that he was strong, that he didn’t believe all those things that people said at church.
Soon the beer tasted good and he couldn’t leave it alone. He drank every time he started feeling sad. It seemed to help a bit. He made some new friends and they drank together sometimes. But now he didn’t have any friends and he drank alone.
His wife had left because he drank too much. She thought he would never stop. She gave him many warnings, and he should have listened. Then she left. He heard she had now graduated from college and had a job as a teacher in an elementary school somewhere.
That was a lot of hard work, he figured. Who wanted to spend days in a classroom with little children? He didn’t like children. Some were naughty and mean, hard to control. Why spend your life trying to help children?
People were dumb to spend their lives working. He knew the smart way to get along. Just do what you want, and people will help you.
He used to have a job. Oh, he had worked hard, but he never got rich. He had worked in an office, he had sold real estate. Then he had done landscape work with some friends. They were fun to be with, but the work was hard and dirty. So he had quit,
Or maybe he had been fired. He couldn’t remember. The other guys drank some, but they didn’t want to drink all day. He used to drink only at night when he was alone. But when he didn’t have anything useful to do, he drank all the time.
Where were those guys now? Still working on lawns, he guessed. They live in that other state where I used to live, he thought. That’s why I don’t have any friends.
Well, I don’t need friends. They are busy going to work. But I don’t want to work.
The truth was, he felt sad about his life. He had made mistakes when he was younger. He often didn’t feel able to cope with life and yet he couldn’t tell anyone. To admit his need was to become weak in the eyes of other people. He couldn’t even tell his parents about this.
His mother nagged at him all the time to clean up, and sober up. So he was angry with her and often put down the phone when she called. He knew what to do but he just couldn’t do it.
He tried to tell his dad how he felt. Lately he had started calling him often, sometimes talking for nearly an hour. He told him nearly everything, because his dad just listened and encouraged him to try to do better. He never said anything negative.
But he couldn’t admit to his dad that he was depressed. He had decided long ago that he would never ask for help. Sometimes he asked for cigarettes when he had none and was feeling nervous. But he never asked for help to stop drinking.
At first, drinking was fun. It made him feel superior. He knew how to get the advantage over other people. He wouldn’t allow them to cheat him. He had never stolen anything, and he never did drugs. Drinking beer all day just hurt himself. It didn’t hurt anyone else, did it?
Well, maybe it hurt his parents. It made them feel sad. But what could he do about that? Drinking alcohol was fun. Sometimes it made him laugh at the world. When he started feeling sad, he just drank more often. It was the solution to every problem!
If only he could get his courage up to become different. He liked that optimistic young man he used to be when he was in college. He was going to conquer the world and become rich.
He took his first drink on a dare. A classmate dared him to try it out, scoffing that he would never to it since he had grown up in church. So he had taken that first drink. It was bitter, and he didn’t like it much. But he had to show people that he was strong, that he didn’t believe all those things that people said at church.
Soon the beer tasted good and he couldn’t leave it alone. He drank every time he started feeling sad. It seemed to help a bit. He made some new friends and they drank together sometimes. But now he didn’t have any friends and he drank alone.
His wife had left because he drank too much. She thought he would never stop. She gave him many warnings, and he should have listened. Then she left. He heard she had now graduated from college and had a job as a teacher in an elementary school somewhere.
That was a lot of hard work, he figured. Who wanted to spend days in a classroom with little children? He didn’t like children. Some were naughty and mean, hard to control. Why spend your life trying to help children?
Monday, September 20, 2010
AVOIDING THE TRUTH
AVOIDING THE TRUTH
by Anyone
I wonder where I am. This room looks familiar. My dog is rubbing my leg, but no one else is here. Oh, I’m so sleepy, but I want another drink.
The young man took a sip from the beer can in his hand. Then his head lolled forward and his eyes closed. He felt slightly sick but didn’t want to move. There was no reason to stay awake. No one else was in the room.
No one cares, he thought. No one ever comes to see me... except my father comes sometimes, he reminded himself.
Deep down, he knew the truth that his father cared for him, but he would not admit it to himself. He was determined to stay stubborn. Why did he need anyone’s help? But his heart was begging someone to respond.
A faint memory of happiness stirred his mind. Why was he never happy now? Was that another life that he had lived? Perhaps he had lived in another world. If only there were another world! This world was dull, yet stressful.
There was something he should be doing. But it tired him to think about it. It took too much energy. The beer made him so relaxed that he couldn’t do much. He liked that feeling. It was too much effort to go into another room or to fix something to eat.
He threw the empty beer can across the floor. Moving his feet, the pile of beer cans on the carpet rattled. What a funny sound! He was showing the world that he knew the best way to live. Why get a job or clean the house? He was too smart to fall for the lie that everyone needed to work. He would show people the best way to live.
Everything was free, anyway. His mother or dad always helped him out if he ran out of food. His dad wouldn’t give him money but he would buy cigarettes for him if he was desperate. Dad used to smoke years ago, and he understood. Why didn’t Dad smoke now? That was a puzzle. Guess he just didn’t want to spend the money.
Dad wasn’t much fun. He was always going to church. What a life! Why does he let other people tell him what to do? Dad seems happy, though. He never complains, but sometimes he tries to tell me that I shouldn’t drink. He just doesn’t know how much fun it is.
I wonder whether he would take me to the hospital if I got really sick. I know that someday I’m going to be sick because I have mistreated my body for so many years. I hope someone will take care of me, because I have no health insurance.
Oh, well. Not to worry. Maybe I will just die. That would solve a lot of problems for everyone. But I sort of like being alive. When I die, there will be nothing going on. I will probably die like a dog. No life after death, that’s what I tell everyone. I like to shock them, so I say it whenever they talk to me about God.
Who cares about God? God doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to go to church and listen to an old man talk and talk and talk. That is boring. God could give me a million dollars so I could be really happy. Then I could smoke and drink and never stop. I wouldn’t need to get a job. Life would be perfect.
I don’t talk to God. He ignores me, so I don’t believe in him. I’ll show him who is master! I am master of my fate, and I like to drink. It makes me feel good. No one can stop me.
The room grew dark as the sun set outside. His heart was dark, too. He had no hope. (But there was a way out. He would find it someday.)
by Anyone
I wonder where I am. This room looks familiar. My dog is rubbing my leg, but no one else is here. Oh, I’m so sleepy, but I want another drink.
The young man took a sip from the beer can in his hand. Then his head lolled forward and his eyes closed. He felt slightly sick but didn’t want to move. There was no reason to stay awake. No one else was in the room.
No one cares, he thought. No one ever comes to see me... except my father comes sometimes, he reminded himself.
Deep down, he knew the truth that his father cared for him, but he would not admit it to himself. He was determined to stay stubborn. Why did he need anyone’s help? But his heart was begging someone to respond.
A faint memory of happiness stirred his mind. Why was he never happy now? Was that another life that he had lived? Perhaps he had lived in another world. If only there were another world! This world was dull, yet stressful.
There was something he should be doing. But it tired him to think about it. It took too much energy. The beer made him so relaxed that he couldn’t do much. He liked that feeling. It was too much effort to go into another room or to fix something to eat.
He threw the empty beer can across the floor. Moving his feet, the pile of beer cans on the carpet rattled. What a funny sound! He was showing the world that he knew the best way to live. Why get a job or clean the house? He was too smart to fall for the lie that everyone needed to work. He would show people the best way to live.
Everything was free, anyway. His mother or dad always helped him out if he ran out of food. His dad wouldn’t give him money but he would buy cigarettes for him if he was desperate. Dad used to smoke years ago, and he understood. Why didn’t Dad smoke now? That was a puzzle. Guess he just didn’t want to spend the money.
Dad wasn’t much fun. He was always going to church. What a life! Why does he let other people tell him what to do? Dad seems happy, though. He never complains, but sometimes he tries to tell me that I shouldn’t drink. He just doesn’t know how much fun it is.
I wonder whether he would take me to the hospital if I got really sick. I know that someday I’m going to be sick because I have mistreated my body for so many years. I hope someone will take care of me, because I have no health insurance.
Oh, well. Not to worry. Maybe I will just die. That would solve a lot of problems for everyone. But I sort of like being alive. When I die, there will be nothing going on. I will probably die like a dog. No life after death, that’s what I tell everyone. I like to shock them, so I say it whenever they talk to me about God.
Who cares about God? God doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to go to church and listen to an old man talk and talk and talk. That is boring. God could give me a million dollars so I could be really happy. Then I could smoke and drink and never stop. I wouldn’t need to get a job. Life would be perfect.
I don’t talk to God. He ignores me, so I don’t believe in him. I’ll show him who is master! I am master of my fate, and I like to drink. It makes me feel good. No one can stop me.
The room grew dark as the sun set outside. His heart was dark, too. He had no hope. (But there was a way out. He would find it someday.)
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