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No, I’ve never have been addicted to any Schedule I or II substances in my life, nor am I a heavy drinker. But this is exactly what I feel is like to take an impromptu week-long vacation from the place that for years has been basically your home and it’s inhabitants, your second dysfunctional family. I had to do it though. It was either that, or slide into an even deeper depression. People that I’ve grown to care about were getting hurt as the days went on and it hurt me to see them get hurt. The worst part of it all was that feeling of not being able to do a damn thing about it.

I’ve been told that, just like hardcore addicts, that distancing yourself away from those places and people that you have deep connections with, has the same symptoms as chemical withdrawal. The first two days have been hell and it took me by surprise because I thought that this was just going to be something like a working vacation for me. A week off away from all the drama, catching up on some old PC games that I haven’t played in a while, writing on this blog more, starting a new feature here, where I would be posting some of my classic stuff from way back in the day. Instead, all I ended up doing was desperately trying to find another place to get my fix, while going through mood swings and realizing that researching and writing my next post was going to be a chore, now that I no longer have the anger that fueled me years ago to write my best shit. The edgy good stuff that when I read it now, makes me laugh my ass off.

Maybe I could try and be that asshole again. But now I would be haunted be feelings of guilt, thinking about being hounded by the Politically Correct brigade and the easily offended. My new-found sensibility has turned me into a fucking pussy. It would be easier if most people knew how to take the things I and others like me say, with a grain of salt. However, as The Amazing Atheist (love him or hate him) said in one of his videos, we all live on Planet Wuss now.

I’ve been told that I should get out more. Maybe go to the flea market tomorrow, buy a poor quality pirated movie or two, some kabobs and a beer. Take in the small town kitsch that has been my real life environment for the past several years. The last time I’ve been to any place worth a damn on this rock was back in 2007, for my sister’s college graduation. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find that pair of aviator glasses that I’ve been looking for? Now if only I could get some fucking money out of my corporate wage slave debit card, without the local ATM’s charging me a fucking eye for it.

Anyway, here I am, writing this and downloading some patches for the original Fallout game. Yep, I’m going to play it! Last time I played it completely was years ago and I might as well do so again. I remember during the first night of my “vacation” how I tried looking up stuff on the game and yet I felt so down, that I felt disgusted. How can anybody in their right mind feel disgusted at such a great game? No one can unless you are not in your right mind. I certainly ain’t there right now. I want to know if everything will be alright in the days to come, next week, next month, next year? Yet all I feel is uncertainty. I fucking hate uncertainty.

Right now I’m going to log on to what is perhaps one of the most poorly coded and bug riddled MMOs out there at the moment. It sucks in so many ways, yet once you start, you can’t stop. After all, you can’t one day decide to stop being responsible for the welfare of your extra-solar colonies, when you have things to worry about, like protecting them from Brazilian raiders who don’t speak English and understand the gentleman’s agreements that rule the honor system that we built in our particular server, or acquiring that rare piece of equipment that will give you the tactical edge during PvP battles. That game reminds me of my days back when I played a graphically simpler, yet more engaging game online that ruined even more an already doomed “friendship”, over shit like my need to actually sleep or not letting my more experienced friend join our team because he was “a bad influence over me”. I certainly don’t miss those days, but these past few days can be a runner-up for “Most Stressful Time In Ramm’s Life” award.

In the time that it has taken me to finish up this post, I should already have an answer to my troll powder keg question that I set up in order to research my first planned article in years. Like all things that have changed, it’s not particularly troll-ish or mean. But knowing my fellow inmates (from now on I will be referring to my fellow Puerto Ricans as “inmates”, for we are all prisoners in a prison of our own creation) passion for bullshit political discussion, it will either be read the wrong way and be eliminated before anybody responds, or they take it as a personal affront against their ideological leanings and respond with ad hominem attacks to what is in reality a rather serious question that I find no one even seriously ponders over here. Hang on anonymous Chinese aspie  dude, the answers that I promised you are coming! I just hope that it doesn’t trigger your need to argue about Christianity and the need to eliminate paganism.

I’m going now. I have another long night ahead of me and hopefully it will involve me ridding some farm of radscorpions and the future president of the NCR from raiders, while trying to bring a water chip back to my Vault and then save the post-apocalyptic world from Super Mutants.


One response to “Rehab?

  1. Pingback: Left 4 Live: Or How I’m Updating After Six Months Of Ball-Chilling Weather, Mexicans and Deer | What Do You Know, Erde?

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