April 20th, 2012 | 
Author: Fuck life. Fuck everyone, every shitty fucking asshole out there, every dilapidated, mangy squirrel trying to get a nut. Three shots. Three big shots of good rum is what it takes to cut through the horseshit burbling all around me; permeating my very brain. I want to eat and shit, piss and sleep, have some motherfucking water in between. Goddamn. How hard. How hard it is to stop myself from jamming a gun in my piehole and pulling the Jesus fist fucking Christ trigger until the gray matter hits the wall like so much stale tapioca. Fuck life.
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© Copyright 2012 Matthew Aldrovandi
What happened to me? Where the hell did i go wrong? I feel a downward spiral coursing through me like a raging hellfire and I can’t stop it, can’t fight it. I try to write, to make something good out of something so painful, but it all sounds like self absorbed blithering, the kind of faggy shit sad high schoolers write. I need to help myself and I can’t, or maybe I won’t. I hate my stagnancy, I need adventure, fresh air, exercise, a new outlook. Bring on the change.
© Copyright 2012 Matthew Aldrovandi
Life without antidepressants is a solemn affair. Shrinks and other doctors market these magical little pills as being helpful to those of us who need them. Antidepressants purportedly help us gain self-esteem, lose social anxiety, and generally feel like functioning members of society. And to a certain extent, they do.
However, problems arise when and if one runs out of said magical pills. Personal experiences may vary, but I have personally found that I feel FAR worse being off of the pills after having taken them than before having EVER taken them.
Picture this: floating serenely through a life, your life, only everything is fuzzy and clouded, like fine silt in a clear glass of cool water. You squint and attempt to focus through bleary eyes, the normally inconsequential sounds of daily life a raucous cacophony. People float in and out of this world like dry leaves in an autumn breeze, but they are hard to understand and seem as though they would be easier to kill than talk to.
Any normal activity becomes a horrible nightmare, especially when the zaps reach their full power. Zaps are the lovely side effect of withdrawal from antidepressants; powerful, brain-rending electric shocks that come from nowhere whenever you move your head a little too fast. Bending over excites the zaps into a veritable thunderstorm, brewed for your enjoyment right inside your skull.
If you can get past this stage, be prepared to face the demons. You will constantly be considering suicide in the face of the soul-crushing despair that weighs upon you like a cruise ship anchor. In the moments of your life off of antidepressants when you are not considering plummeting to your untimely death from any available edifice, a riotous anger will burn through your brain like wildfire. You will want to, no, NEED to hurt something or someone, and the grace of the heavens themselves won’t be enough to douse the hellfire you will smite a foe with.
But hey, I just got another week’s worth of pills, so I love everyone again. Twenty four hours later and I am a new man. Thank god we have antidepressants.
© Copyright 2012 Matthew Aldrovandi
Gray clouds pass overhead
And they drag a piece of me with them
A solemn, lonesome piece
That suffers from lack of drive and emotional fulfillment
Those clouds
Those greasy, gray bastards that slip by
Like water through my open fingers
They steal something from me
And never, ever give it back.
© Copyright 2012 Matthew Aldrovandi
Lemme tell you something about Jillian Michaels. I FUCKING HATE THAT BITCH. That’s it in a nutshell. And also, is she a fucking man? Because if she isn’t, and someone can scientifically prove that fact to me, I will eat a 1″ segment of my own shit.
I have done the Jillian Michaels workout, and I am not ashamed to admit that it kicks my ass like an irate donkey. I think if Jillian Michaels was a goddamn mute I might want to kick her fucking teeth in a little less, but maybe not.
In fact, there’s just no maybe about that. She says inane things like, “I’ve earned my stripes! I can say ‘feel the burn’ if I want to!” When she says that I think, yes Jillian, you have “earned your stripes”. And if you say feel the fucking burn to me one more time I will stripe your face with a goddamn broken off car antenna right before I have the fat retard behind you with the flappy arms donkey punch you while he ass fucks you. And do you know what’s gonna happen next, Jillian Michaels, you fucking douche? I’m gonna beat you to death with a fucking garden weasel. But before that, I’m gonna make you eat chocolate cake in front of a mirror with your striped face and your eyelids taped open and your asshole hurting from a good old fashioned retard fucking and I’m gonna ask you, do you feel the burn? Well, do ya, cunt?
© Copyright 2012 Matthew Aldrovandi
The first sip is ALWAYS the best, my friend. Like the first stone of the day, it grasps the mind with its delicious tendrils and pulls it gently from the quiet cacophony of sleep. It wraps the body in delicate ecstasy, every droplet kissing every part of my soul at once. The velvet flavor caresses my tongue, and I am taken away, lifted from my body and bathed in caffeinated splendor. The coffee flows down into my stomach and warms my whole body as if I were seated in a comfortable leather chair by a roaring fire. The day, no matter how terrible, instantly seems better, brighter, more manageable. People say heaven is in the after life, my friend, but I disagree wholeheartedly. Heaven is in that first lovely sip of morning coffee.
© Copyright 2011 Matthew Aldrovandi
I thought I had seen it all. I thought I had bitched about everything there was to be bitched about. Then I saw the epitome of retarded America.
I was taking a walk with the family, just enjoying a beautiful day, looking at the light through the golden leaves of fall trees. We strode past some campsites, and I was thinking how nice it would be to camp at that time of year when we walked past the RV section of the campground.
Now, camping is fun, but seriously, what is the fucking point in bringing your goddamn house along with you? Why can’t you exist without television and beds? And also, that shit is seriously expensive in every way; the fuel to haul/drive it, the supplies inside it, the thing itself, the list goes on.
Anyway, we were almost out of the campground area and back into the woods when I heard a loud, annoying whining noise that no one should ever hear in the woods. I look over, and next to a mansion sized fifth-wheel RV with Christmas lights adorning the cheesy metal retractable awning is a retard with a FUCKING LEAF BLOWER.
Now, even though he wasn’t drooling in a wheelchair, this man was obviously a retard because he was using a leaf blower at a campsite in the GODDAMN WOODS. What the fuck. I wanted to kill him on the spot, and probably should have, but I directed a black cloud of evil thoughts at him.
I think this man should have his balls sucked through the leaf blower he was using and blown into the mouth of the garbage disposal in his big fucking trailer. Then, the whole thing should be lit on fire and dropped onto his family’s house. Fucking asshole. Fucking retard.
THIS is exactly what the fuck is wrong with America. If you want to appreciate nature, I’nm all for it. But for Christ’s sake, leave the fucking leaf blower at home. What’s next, vacuuming the sand off of the goddamn beach? Fucking retard.
© Copyright 2011 Matthew Aldrovandi
Empty house
Empty mind
Nothing left to do.
Empty hands
Empty heart
Nothing left to lose.
Empty pockets
Empty life
Nothing else to choose.
Emptiness surrounds me
My heart feels old and bruised.
© Copyright 2011 Matthew Aldrovandi