I'm on escitalopram, benzodiazepines, and oxycodones.
Just simple pills, you know?
I drink a lot too, kind of. Yeah, a lot,
and my entire life I've never really been sure of anything.
This is my story; a story about my sad, boring, and ridiculous life.
And so it begins.
I'm 25 year's old, and
my frontal lobe is finally fully developed,
I wish to God it wasn't.
Now according to the standards of living in such a place,
I have to be responsible.
To actually make responsible choices.
I'm not ready for all that yet.
So now I get loaded, a lot, too.
I don't bother going to the slums and streets of this forsaken town.
My drug dealer has a PhD, and a fancy office, at the top of a tall building.
An onyx name plate with his name in etched gold.
Dr. Eryck Mathews.
My vice is simple; drink a couple glasses of wine,
and slip into a comfortable coma. It helps me...not feel..
or something like that, I guess.
Oh and since I'm letting you into my life and all,
I think I should tell you about another addiction.
Cigarettes. Only Kools. Nothing else.
I started smoking in my 10th, or 11th year of life.
It gets hard to breath sometimes, but really...
I don't care. Sometimes the only reason I
stand to wake up in the harsh glowing morning is to take
a nice, long drag off of my Kool.
The menthol burns my mouth and throat, and it feels good.
But back to the drugs. I could tell you my good doctor
gives me the drugs due to a legitimate perscription,
but that would be lying, and I'm bad at that.
My Doctor likes money, and I like pills, and I've got money.
A good duo, right?
My father was an industrialist. I'm well traveled, thanks to him.
He was the owner of a large tobacco company. Cigars, mostly.
I don't feel like getting into him right at this point of time, though.
Let's just say , when he died my mother and I were left with a lot,
My mother was never really around, I'm not sure where she is now.
I believe Paris, France.
But enough about them, now I'll get to the point.
I'm single. I get into awkward situations like a bad habit.
My life is full of bad habits, and I'm trying to quit them.
I'm on a quest to find self worth, when my entire life
has been shallow, and unsatisfying.
I will be going through withdraws, physical, emotional.
I'm working on the spiritual part.
My name is Chaplin...yeah, like the silent film actor.
Chaplin Saint Mac III.
If you really want to know why I'm telling you this,
well, it's because In a very short time, I am going to d i e.
Fast track back into time, let's say... a year.
The city is cold, and bitter dry, my face is chapped.
I must be in Chicago. I'm staying in The Silversmith Hotel & Suits.
Just simple pills, you know?
I drink a lot too, kind of. Yeah, a lot,
and my entire life I've never really been sure of anything.
This is my story; a story about my sad, boring, and ridiculous life.
And so it begins.
I'm 25 year's old, and
my frontal lobe is finally fully developed,
I wish to God it wasn't.
Now according to the standards of living in such a place,
I have to be responsible.
To actually make responsible choices.
I'm not ready for all that yet.
So now I get loaded, a lot, too.
I don't bother going to the slums and streets of this forsaken town.
My drug dealer has a PhD, and a fancy office, at the top of a tall building.
An onyx name plate with his name in etched gold.
Dr. Eryck Mathews.
My vice is simple; drink a couple glasses of wine,
and slip into a comfortable coma. It helps me...not feel..
or something like that, I guess.
Oh and since I'm letting you into my life and all,
I think I should tell you about another addiction.
Cigarettes. Only Kools. Nothing else.
I started smoking in my 10th, or 11th year of life.
It gets hard to breath sometimes, but really...
I don't care. Sometimes the only reason I
stand to wake up in the harsh glowing morning is to take
a nice, long drag off of my Kool.
The menthol burns my mouth and throat, and it feels good.
But back to the drugs. I could tell you my good doctor
gives me the drugs due to a legitimate perscription,
but that would be lying, and I'm bad at that.
My Doctor likes money, and I like pills, and I've got money.
A good duo, right?
My father was an industrialist. I'm well traveled, thanks to him.
He was the owner of a large tobacco company. Cigars, mostly.
I don't feel like getting into him right at this point of time, though.
Let's just say , when he died my mother and I were left with a lot,
My mother was never really around, I'm not sure where she is now.
I believe Paris, France.
But enough about them, now I'll get to the point.
I'm single. I get into awkward situations like a bad habit.
My life is full of bad habits, and I'm trying to quit them.
I'm on a quest to find self worth, when my entire life
has been shallow, and unsatisfying.
I will be going through withdraws, physical, emotional.
I'm working on the spiritual part.
My name is Chaplin...yeah, like the silent film actor.
Chaplin Saint Mac III.
If you really want to know why I'm telling you this,
well, it's because In a very short time, I am going to d i e.
Fast track back into time, let's say... a year.
The city is cold, and bitter dry, my face is chapped.
I must be in Chicago. I'm staying in The Silversmith Hotel & Suits.
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