Unlikely 2.0


   So I returned, and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun: and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter. Wherefore I praised the dead which are already dead more than the living which are yet alive. Yea, better is he than both they, which hath not yet been, who hath not seen the evil work that is done under the sun. —Ecclesiastes 4:1-3


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In Treatment
by Michael Cuglietta

I don't want to be good anymore.

I don't want to be in bed by eleven. I don't want to only drink on the weekends and even then no more than two beers a night. I don't want to wear expensive wool pants from fancy department stores with "dry clean only" labels. I don't want to eat three square meals a day, with five servings of fruits or vegetables. I refuse to run three miles a day five days a week. I'll choose instead to let my hairy belly blow up. And I'll walk to the grocery store topless, my lumpy, pale stomach glistening under the summer sun. I don't care who is offended.

I don't want to limit my caffeine intake to one glass of coffee each morning. I don't care about my blood pressure. I don't care if caffeine causes anxiety. I don't want to have to worry about generalized anxiety disorder. I don't want to take my mood stabilizing drugs. They make things too boring.

I am sick of psychotherapy. I've learned enough about my crappy childhood. I'm tired of pretending like my parents did a good job. I don't care if finger pointing is counterproductive. I refuse to take responsibility for myself any longer.

I am not a responsible guy. I am tired of being the first one into the office and the last one to leave. I am tired of holding my shit together in rush hour traffic. Next time someone rides my ass or passes on the right I am going to lose it. Would you even think of cutting me off if you knew the anger I had inside of me?

I am not the nice guy all your girlfriends tell you you're a fool for leaving. "He has a good job. He's faithful, smart, funny." But it doesn't matter what they say. You leave despite what your annoying friends tell you. You leave because a nice guy is no fun. You leave because nice guys don't know anything about real sex. Nice guys will not bury your face in the pillow while they call you a slut. Nice guys will not yank your hair hard as they take you from behind. Nice guys will not leave deep bite marks in your ass.

Nice guys are a nice thought but when all is said and all is done nice guys are left alone in their boring, nice guy apartments, content with their boring, nice guy lives, searching for ways to fall asleep while sober.

I am far from content.

Continued...