When I was in high school this guy I dated bought me a book called Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. It was a silly little book full of daily affirmations for dumb people. We broke up a week later. 1) Because I love sweating the small stuff

When I was in high school this guy I dated bought me a book called Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. It was a silly little book full of daily affirmations for dumb people. We broke up a week later. 1) Because I love sweating the small stuff, 2) Because I think that positivity is bullshit, and 3) Because I found out he fingered my best friend while I was in France…What a stupid, fucking book. Anyway, he should have known that when I’m really bummed I want to read the saddest shit in the world, not the literary equivalent of a back rub. One of my favorite sources of sadness are the meth and crack accounts on erowid*.

Let’s say you got fired. Total drag, sure, but wouldn’t things be a lot worse if you were this guy:

Its summer time now, I haven’t broken my addiction, I’m about to move out of this now shithole of a house in about 2 months time. Every single night I come home I lock my door sit in my closet spin the pipe, and stare at that oh so beautiful glow in front of my nose, waiting for my life to get better. My life right now has no direction whatsoever. I’m almost positive my parents have given up on me, I’m about to move to a new state leaving everything behind, and walking into a new situation a fucked up drug addict. I’m not to the point where I’m sticking needles in my arm, but I feel that day is coming very very soon.
Source: Still Locked in My Closet

Ouch! You can practically hear everyone in his life giving up on him. Remember that job you lost? Me neither because all I can think about is this dude in his room, being a sad, sad, human.

Did your girlfriend just leave you for your best friend? Why don’t you try this on for size:

I will swear, although it’s not been documented, that the impurities that are in the meth begin coming out of porous regions of my skin. My eyelids have little hard crusty things that come out of my tear ducts and cling to my eyelashes. My eyelashes seem to fall out, though I’m not sure if it’s natural or from me picking at them. My forehead, cheeks, nose, below the earlobes and any open cuts I have seem to spew out the same kind of chunky whitish-tan lumps that my eyes do. I’ve noticed, if given time, they fall out on their own and soaking in water helps, but by this time I’m really paranoid and obsessive. I tend to pick at my face until I have pimple sized scars and at my fingernails and tips of fingers where I have sometimes sworn there are lines of glass in my skin. I have cut my fingernails way behind the quick and turned tiny scars into large bleeding wounds.
Source: Story of a Woman Caught in a Cycle

Pretty vile right? But don’t you feel a lot better now? I know I do and I think it’s because I don’t ooze meth from my EYEBALLS!!

OK you get the idea. Now we can move onto the piece de resistance, or the story so good that I’ve busted it out at parties because it ranks as one of the funniest/saddest things I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, and I collect suicide notes written by comedians**. Here’s the gist: a young man starts smoking crack, nothing serious, just a casual user. As his addiction progresses he does what any young addict would do, he hosts an Oscar party and buys enough crack for two! Unfortunately, his friend bails. Heart palpitating hilarity ensues. Here’s one of many highlights:

But it was too late. I had already overdosed. I distinctly remember that during Nicole Kidman’s acceptance speech, maybe two minutes after my last hit, an electrical wave coursed through my body and I developed a hyper-awareness of my heartbeat. I immediately panicked; I am only 19 and I’ve never had a heart attack before.
Source: Crack – My Two Most Vivid Memories

Spoiler alert: In the end he sticks with crack BUT didn’t your day just get a whole lot better? Talk about taking one for the team!!!

*If you happen to be addicted to any of these drugs and feel belittled and offended that I take pleasure from your sadness, well fuck I don’t know, quit or something.

**Not really, but it’s the best analogy I could come up with.

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