There's nothing more anti-refreshing than a post-suicidal shower at 5 AM. This is the shower you take when you wake up with your surroundings being mostly covered by your own vomit. After you wake up from passing out at, open your eyes and sit there to check out your surroundings you can't help but smile. Not because of the vomit, but because you fell asleep with cheap Cinemax porn on and now they're showing a old Will Smith movie. I think Badboys or something lame. Then I crawl out of bed and grab a bottle of water and drink it down to kinda wash that bad Taco Bell vomit from your mouth. As my hair is drying, I'm trying to retrace my steps. From the bottle of water, I went to the bathroom and got a towel and soaked it in water. I needed to clean these pools of puke up so I can live with myself. As if I really DO want to live with myself. Right. First things first. I go to my computer and I clean off my screen, keyboard, and the top of my monitor where I first started this outburst of fun. After I clean my keyboard, I realize that somehow its fucked up. After fucking with it for awhile, I caved in and pulled out my old dirty and broken down keyboard. I talk a bit to the people who are actually up. Then I go down for the count and clean up the pools of puke. Just as I'm finishing and getting fresh clothes to take to the shower I have to wonder how the fuck I got to this point. Not the point of cleaning my own puke up, but to the point of becoming to wreckless and careless. Then I realized that I've become Mr. Self Destruct.

It was a Monday. I took a few too many Stacker 3's. Well, 14 too many...but thats all relative. I was out of it at work, but I still ended up getting a few sales. Jonathan wanted me to leave with him at 9, so I did. Despite I'm scheduled till 10, I had to leave and I needed to excape seeing Melissa and Nicolle. I love them both, but they were out of it as much as I was. It happens though. They were both in a dreary mood and pretty much oblivious to the fact that I was dieing and my heart was beating a mile a minute. They knew I took too many, but I don't think they KNEW. On the way home, Jonathan wanted me to go to the hospital or atleast to his mom's house because she's a nurse and she would help me. I didn't want that. Anything but that. I am beyond help. I spit on your help. *Spits* I was hurting. My chest hurt and I could feel my pulse through every part of my body, mainly my tounge and hair. Don't ask. Before we got back to my crooked and shitty house I started crying. I dunno if it was from the pain or the pain. That didn't make sense, let me revamp that...the Stacker 3 pain or the pain of life. I wasn't really that upset, I really accepted everything and I was expecting to die. I'm a big guy so I know my heart can't be in tip top shape as is, so speeding it up ALOT shouldn't be in the plan book. I wanted to get away. I wanted it to end. I didn't take all those Stacker 3's thinking at all. I just casually did it. But the end result was ok with me because I was "cool with it". In tears and pain I tell Jonathan I love him and that I care about him and I get out of his car. I go inside and there's only 4 people I wanted to talk to. Jason, Matt, Justin, and Chayne. Chayne wasn't going to happen. I walked in and found out that Justin went to my work at 10 to get me...so I expected him to show up before the night was over...so I talked to Jason's brother and told him to get offline and I talked to Matt for awhile. I told Matt that I loved him and care about him as well. I think he knew I was in trouble because as soon as I got offline to call Jay, Matt ended up calling me three times to check up on me. So I lied in bed talking to Jay about life and about how I was expecting to die. He didn't think I was going to die or anything, but he did talk to me and it was a good talk. I hung up with him and layed in bed and listened to "Gave Up" by Nine Inch Nails on repeat. I layed there and got calm and collected. Justin makes it over at like 10:30. We leave. We stop and I get something to drink and we go to our place. It's simply "our place". We went there and we talked for a few hours. It was the first REAL conversation I've ever had with him. But as always, whatever I said or felt was wrong and stupid. I get that a lot wih my friends. They argue everything I say. I don't get it. Its probably my fault for being too open with things or "hasty" as I've been said to be in a recent analysis by a friend. I dunno anymore. I'm still sorta dizzy. Anyways, I come home and I get online. Jonathan is online waiting for me to make sure I'm ok. I'm an asshole for putting that on him. The night before his wife had their second kid and I'm worring him and making him stay up to the late hours of the night. The next day I called off work and stayed home. Jason came over and we hung out. It was a the calm after the storm.

Moving on...From there, I put lots of effort into getting MEW back and running. Why? Because its a crutch. I hate life with it and I hate life without it. As I put it to people, I'm going to be depressed reguardless. I'd rather be old depressed Mike than the new depressed Mike. I did what I did the last year of highschool. I put every thought and every breath into MEW and low and behold, if you pay attention to anything...MEW has a show booked. Yay. I do enjoy MEW, don't get me wrong, but its JUST WRESTLING. WRESTLING SUCKS. PEOPLE IN WRESTLING SUCKS. Professional Wrestling isn't fake. The people in Professional Wrestling are. Thats why I like meeting people who want to get into wrestling because they're so oblivious to what really goes on and what really happens. Being a Indy wrestler is wrestling anywhere and everywhere that'll accept and pay you. Its being a whore. Like it or not, wrestlers are whores. I guess since I'm a promoter that might make me a pimp. That doesn't make these wrestlers bad people. Other stuff makes them bad people. I'm still friends with alot of wrestlers, but reguardless of how good of person we think we are. We're scum and we're dirt. We're all social outcast that don't really fit in anywhere else so we all use wrestling as a crutch. Lie to yourself. I do everyday. So now MEW is back. I know I missed it and what not, but I'm not so anxious and I'm not going to fake it.

Moving on...Last weekend I started smoking cigarettes. I smoked them rather quickly. I was called a chain smoker and I had trouble inhaling. I don't have a clue why I started smoking in the first place. Like the whole Stacker thing, I just casually did it. Maybe because its not good for me. I smoked like 3 packs of Camel's among other random cigarettes I bummed from people. All of this in the spree of like 4 or 5 days. I stopped when Melissa told me that smoking is a turn off. So I stopped right then and there. I don't want to be a turn off to her by any means so it was easy. And the fact that it was a waste of money, I didn't inhale, and it's not "me". Whoever the fuck that is.

Moving on...Today. I was supposed out with people...they never called. I was supposed to wait home for someone...he never showed up. So I was bored and feeling rather shitty. So I got online and talked to Matt. He talked about being drunk...I looked at my half a bottle of Vodka and went off. In the spree of 20 minutes I downed 11 shots. I then heated up some Taco Bell and ate it. Then I drank from the bottle...Then I remember throwing up alot and passing out on my bed. I woke up at like 4 AM...So I missed Rocky Horror tonight...Oh Well. But I also missed seeing Melissa and that pisses me off. But then again, if I saw her I'd of said something stupid anyways.

Why am I Mr. Self Destruct all so soon? I've never enjoyed life. I have no reason to live, but I also have no reason to die. In a indepth ramble and conversation with Nicolle a few weeks ago I recall her saying, "Mike, you just want to be loved". I don't know. Since then I think I've realized that maybe she's right, and maybe thats why I'm always so down on life. I have friends, a job, my own company, etc etc...but I don't have love. Fuck you Sublime. Love ISN'T what I got. Could this by why I'm self destructive? Is it all a cry for attention or help? I dunno. I doubt it considering the most of my destruction comes when I'm alone. I had a weird idea of writting a letter. Not a Suicide letter, but thats the first word that comes to mind, but maybe a "Goodbye Letter". Just incase I get too Destructive and end up killing myself...people would understand a bit. I want answers. Fuck you if you don't think I should want them. Its what I want. I want what I want. I love my parents. I love NIN. I love my art and writing even though they suck. I love the purity of wrestling. I love ice tea. I love about 10 friends. I love Melissa. I love the fact that I still can love.

When I started typing I had no idea that I'd go off about being Mr. Self Destruct. I thought I was going to make a humorous commentary about being drunk. Its sad, reading back some of this I said what I was thinking...but I still can't really say that I feel. I'm not even sure what I DO feel so I don't know. Thanks for listening to me vent. If you have anything to say email me.

Mike