Favorites

It was recently asked of me as to what my favorite book was, to which I struggled with for a few minutes before finally settling on an answer.

The answer I gave was Armor by John Steakley, a book which was given to me by my uncle when I was thirteen. It was my first foray in to Science Fiction, and also my first to actually reading for pleasure. Previously I had only read Hardy Boys or Goosebumps or whatever else was required by school. Armor was the first book that I absolutely loved and I still love it today even after reading it 15 times or so. It’s probably not the best book I’ve ever read, but how do you quantify that anyway?

Regardless, it got me thinking what are my favorite books? So I decided to come up with a list. In no particular order, these are my favorites and ones that I heartily recommend.

Therapy

So this is a strange turn of events. Not only have I been completely sober for nearly 3 months but I’ve been going to therapy for about a month now.  I find this odd as I am pro-drugs and anti-therapy. But life has a way of challenging your beliefs.

I’ve always been prone to anxiety. It’s likely just part of my temperament being an introvert, but being picked on all throughout my life all the way up to high school certainly didn’t help. Becoming a recluse at age 10 didn’t help either. Playing thousands upon thousands of hours of video games plays into it surely. I didn’t really start socializing until I started work at age 18. I still think I suck at it now, but I’ve had plenty of practice so it’s a little easier. But never easy.

I started experimenting with drugs at age 21. First with pot, then ecstasy, Salvia, mushrooms, LSD. I tried coke a few times and heroin once but those weren’t my thing. I liked psychedelics. I could take a large dose, close my eyes, and I’d be transported to alien realms. Figuratively of course. But certainly nothing you can experience in your everyday normal existence. It took me until about 3 months ago to realize I was addicted. Not to any one particular substance, although I did smoke pot daily for a decade, but just addicted to not being here. Not being present. And now I’m paying the price. Because all I want to do is be here and it’s too fucking difficult now.

Hence therapy. At least I finally succumbed and decided it was needed. And it scares me (pretty much everything does) but I’d rather be scared and alive than dead and nonexistent.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take before I start feeling “normal” again, if it’s even possible. My brain has been through the ringer. I just hope over time and with work that life becomes easier. Because this shit is getting old.