Chicken Roulette

Hedonism and freedom marry repeated games of chicken and Russian Roulette. You could slow down, veer away, or abstain from certain destruction, but bouts of intoxication, denial, and low self-esteem wear their damage proudly. Sometimes you sneak a glance out away from the weight of it all, and reality is supreme for a moment, grasping the situation, but it is too late to arrest what you've done. Nothing cut up that bad ever really heals, and in any case you insist on picking at every small scratch until made into moderate trauma, a bad habit helping nothing. You get to call this gift your own.

Elders tried to warn you, but were as inarticulate and dogmatic as you were headstrong, nihilistic, and bitter. You were once worth anything in the world; now no one can find much to salvage.