Cleaning Up a Mess Using Suicide as a Help

I’m sorry. But I had to.

I was a member of another site. It was supposed to be for writing, for meeting people (imagine me waving my arms about like a Jewish grandmother), but then… ack! The fun went out of the place.

Sure, I wrote. I had fun. I met a lot of people. A lot of really good people. But there were other things going on that didn’t sit well with me.

I was a junkie for this place. I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes I would be on it all day long. I craved it like some people crave heroin. Like alcoholics will take a bottle of Popov, because they don’t want the smooth delivery of Grey Goose-they just want to get drunk. When I was away, I was constantly looking for the next fix. There were some rewards. There had to be, or I wouldn’t be there, right?

Because of my fixation, I was undercutting the other things in my life. First, family. It was easy enough to say “NO” when the family was around. Then, work. That was a little harder. I am amazingly adept at doing four or five things at a time. I could easily hide my banter by minimizing my computer screen. It wasn’t right, but I was doing it.

Then I heard of someone who committed FaceBook suicide. He spent too much time there, he had to do it. I had to do the same thing with the site I was on. I gave myself a decent amount of time to commit the act. Then I set about to extricate myself from this demon web site. I did it with much forethought and was orderly. I thought of the individual steps and executed them in order.

My independence day is today. By midnight, it will be all over. Thank the Lord. Or should I say, “oy vay!”

My new life starts tomorrow morning, as soon as I wake up from my champagne hangover.