My Anti-Drug

My Anti-Drug
by Kenton DeAngeli

Everybody has something that helps them get through their day. Some choose drugs -- such as heroin, cocaine or alcohol -- to help them endure the torturous circumstances life has undoubtedly placed them in. Some choose excesses, like food, sex, or killing sprees. And yet others choose to dull the pain of unbearable life by ending it, sometimes ending the lives of quite a few others in the process.

Like many other humans, I realized as early as my 1st year of life that Earth is a damnéd pit of despair created by a cruel and merciless god. I awoke to see visions of floating wonders, tinkling with soft, delightful music as they rotated in a circle above my crib. But like all other aspects of life, these were unreachable. I soon came to hate my tormentors, who would start the infernal machine before leaving me alone in a darkened room for up to 10 hours.

Conditions of life have failed to improve since my traumatic early years. Not only by those around me, but by my own tortured psyche I am forever tormented with visions of a blissful escape from the life of the mundane. But although life seems absolutely unbearable to me, I can always resolutely say "No!" when offered any sort of drug. Do you know why?

Because masturbation is my anti-drug.

Unlike every other method for escaping from the excruciating pain of everyday life, I never have to pay for a fix. I'll never be caught in a dark alley, fellating some diseased stranger without pants, desperate for one hit to remove me from the agonizing pain of life. I'll never have to sell my furniture or even run the risk of being imprisoned for life and facing year after year of prison-shower cornholing. I can escape anytime want, just by shoving my fist down into my pants and moving it around vigorously for two to three minutes. The only "paraphernalia" I require is a porno magazine or two, which can be easily scavenged from a dumpster. The only needle markings I have are from that one time I was working as a cook and was overcome by an insatiable need to escape from my intolerable state of being. I won't go into details, but an inaptly-placed fork became involved, with painful yet strangely pleasurable results.

Sometimes I feel I have to either pleasure myself or die, I need it so bad. But I know that it is legal and safe, so I go right ahead, be it in the privacy of my apartment or a crowded elevator.

So thank you, masturbation, for removing me from addictive depravity and allowing me to get a quick, legal, and non-disorienting high.

Author's Note: inspired by Dan, at T.G.I. Friday's

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