The Bitter End of a Life Wasted

I think, as I mature and move from one failed relationship to the next, that the thing that scares me most is dying alone. At the moment I am replacing loneliness with a cubic fuck-ton of Amphetamines of various description, but seeing as they are so god damn expensive I can't see this being a sustainable long term option.

I have always had this mental image of myself sitting on a porch in an old wooden rocking chair brandishing a shotgun waiting for a youth to come on onto my property so I can exercise my right to protect my home. This used to absolutely terrify me.

But is this really a bad thing? I look around at my peers on a constant basis and think, "what the fuck am I doing in this generation?" Obviously there are exceptions within this group for the special people who have this same intense hatred of said generation, but these people are few and far between. My point however is that I don't want to grow old and be surrounded by the imbeciles that will populate (and even more terrifyingly) run this world. Loneliness seems like a much more preferable option when that is taken into account.

But that could be bullshit, I am not entirely sure. I've eaten enough Dexamphetamine to produce intricate hallucinations, so I am not sure I am in the best state to be pondering such morbid topics. But I am sitting at a crossroads, riding the line between the old me and the person I need to be. I need to hit a balance between the old me, the partier, the asshole, the heavy narcotics abuser to what is becoming the new me, the self sufficient, responsible, reasonable, productive and functioning member of society.

That guy sounds like a fucking bore.