1. I love going to public libraries. All the books are free to read. You don't even need a library card to steal a book.

2. If I wasn't unemployed right now, I'd be an architect. A bad one at that.

3. A good deed never goes unpunished. I make sure of it.

4. My friend tried to get me to join a gym the other day, so now I have one less friend.

5. I try to do as much as I can to support the troops, but sometimes they're just too heavy.

6. If I was ever kidnapped that would really boost my self-esteem.

7. Pimples are like bubble wrap. You can't just pop one.

8. We need a Disney Princess that kills herself.

The instrumentation swelled with fervor and excitement. The hi-hats clasped together in unison to sonically meld with the bass, guitars, and synthesizer. The five-piece post-rock band looked at ease and finely tuned to each other. Their vamping swelled into a spiritual crescendo before the drummer glided over his drum set with a fill to signal the start of the song. In between each song, amplifiers reverberated from the whirling and sustained notes from the guitars and synthesizers. In the middle of their set, the drummer placed a soft blue light bulb next to his see-through drum set.

Every song featured catchy and angsty gang vocals, as well as rough-around-the-edges harmonization that amplified the communal experience. The bassist and both guitarists wailed on Fender instruments connected to an expansive pedal board set-up. The lead guitarist had an array of effect pedals including a Snarling Dog Wah pedal, a Cereberus Tri-Mode Overdrive Distortion pedal, an Ibanez Rotary Chorus pedal, and a limiter. Crunchy guitars and a bouncy bass mixed perfectly with the organ-sounding synthesizer and punchy drumming.

1. I'm not afraid to die. I'm terrified.

2. Isn't every man technically a "momma's boy"?

3. I never speak in absolutes.

4. Friends don't let other friends drive drunk without buckling up first.

5. I listen to ambient, celestial white noise when I'm yelling at other people.

6. My brand of humor is an off-brand.

7. I'm an early bird and I can't stop telling everyone about it.

8. I went out with a deaf girl once. I couldn't get a word in edgewise.

9. My girlfriend loves getting flowers and jewelry. I hope one day she can find someone who'll make her happy.

10. Love happens when you least expect it. Like when you're on your last dying breaths.

Alt-Dwight.com started as a "joke" between two "friends." Malcolm and Dwight dabbled in the conspiracy theory and political scene in tucked-away online forums that only self-absorbed losers frequented. Dwight cared only about his right to be right all of the time.

When he was 23 he left his parent's house to go train-hopping for as long as he could. He lasted a year and along the way, he was exposed to radical and anti-intellectual propaganda meant to put your brain to sleep.

His friend, Malcolm, has lived right down the street from him since he was in middle school. Together they've made horror movies about marionettes, started a cannabis-centric punk band, and spraypainted an esoteric logo named after a mashup of 70s deathrock bands across town.

Now, Malcolm is entrenched in the harsh political divide between the misguided and the uninformed. Malcolm chose the alt-right largely because most of his friends and online commentators he related to declared themselves alt-right.

Dwight had been searching his whole life for a clear identity, someone who had firm beliefs and stood by them at all costs. Dwight and Malcolm shared an affinity for riling up trouble with guerilla marketing techniques and outright controversy.

In the age of attention, Dwight and Malcolm thought they had a winning formula on their hands as they attempted to become widely recognized and highly respected players in the political arena. The problem was that both had no jobs and no money after chasing this farfetched idea.

On their first foray into developing a successful hate operation was when they put up posters around their community college touting that there are only 2.14 genders. The surrealism coupled with the bold type confused many students and teachers but led them to visit their website, Alt-Dwight.com.

Their first few posts railed against third-wave feminism going so far as to say that, "Alt-Dwight will be like garbage to an ocean to any wave of feminism." Surprisingly, they both had steady girlfriends they'd been seeing for over a year ever since deriving notoriety for their inflammatory posts.

Angelica, was a soft-spoken and good-natured teenager until her parents got divorced and seemed like neither wanted her. Ever since she's been making it on her own going from music scenes to political scenes trying to find meaning in her Nietzche-inspired reality.

She liked Dwight because he stood for something, even to the detriment of his socioeconomic status. He was on unemployment and couldn't keep a job for longer than six months. He was always reading music fanzines and historical non-fiction books, including biographies of famous world leaders.

His voracious appetite for books prevented him from making a large group of friends of many girlfriends throughout his life. While he envied the happiness others enjoyed, he valued his independence and commitment to a higher cause, whatever it was that month.

Sofia was Malcolm's girlfriend. Short, quirky, and wickedly smart, she caught Malcolm's attention the first second he laid eyes on her at New Order night in a bar downtown. She loved to talk, and argue, and debate, and eat. When they weren't talking current affairs, they were scarfing down sushi.

All four of them had even started a podcast once they'd seen the success of Alt-Dwight.com. After just two episodes they were banned from Twitter for a tweet that was deemed racist, insensitive, off-color, essentially checking off every politically correct trigger.

Alt-Dwight and Malcolm XXX, their alter egos, were riding high off the fame. They'd even let a few girls feel them up for a few seconds before stopping them. They didn't consider this cheating because they were too busy getting likes, retweets, and shout-outs from even mainstream entertainers.

Their political content ran the line between surreal, sadistic, ironic, sarcastic, and outright wholesome. No one knew what to make of them. They selected interviews carefully and went on podcasts that had a humorous angle. They could hide behind a joke.

It was only a matter of time before Malcolm and Dwight faced the consequences for their actions. Writing new content and producing a podcast week after week proved detrimental for their love lives. Angelica and Sofia started their own all-female anti-Republican podcast.

The sad part was that they continued their rabid digital barrage well into their 40s before they realized that everything they'd been fighting for was a lie. Their life was a misguided attempt at finding an answer to their dreary lives. It took them a while but they died trampled at one of their own events.

The way I see it, a romantic relationship is basically a two-person cult and I've already chugged the entire Kool-aid keg. You probably think I'm joking about the ritual suicide, but I'm not. My girlfriend is actively trying to poison me. Do you want to know how I know? I marked the level on the bottle. Despite this, I really do appreciate my girlfriend because without her wisdom, I'd be an even worse misogynist.

This relationship isn't at all like my last relationship. In my last relationship, I was the one who had to initiate all of the times my girlfriend and I had sex, all because she would say no or was asleep. She was also obsessed with taking selfies, especially when it was photographic evidence of my domestic abuse.

My lack of instincts for love came from my parents. They told me my birth was a surprise. They never planned to have me. I somehow survived the abortion. My dad walked out on me and my mom when I was three. He would come back shortly after with groceries. It was a common occurence. When it comes to marriage, however, I'm with Republicans. I believe marriage is a sacred institution between a man and a woman and his mistress.

If you can believe it, I can be quite romantic. For example, I always go out of my way to open the car door for my girlfriend, especially when we're on the freeway. Also, when my girlfriend brought up having a child, I replied with, "That's just legal kidnapping. I'm in!"

My girlfriend is really spiritual and open to mystic forces. For example, the other day we went to a psychic so I could get my palm read. The psychic said I was going to die a very violent death, if I walked out without paying for the reading.

I also love my girlfriend because we think similar things. During one of the Grammys (I just watch it for the commercials) Daft Punk came out to perform. My girlfriend inquired, "Is that even them? How do we know?" With those questions, I fell hard for her. To the point of CTE damage.

Apart from my girlfriend's magnetic and charming personality, she's quite the looker. I'm not a shallow person, by any means, just ask my exes, but my girlfriend is the most beautiful woman in the world. She's even more attractive now that her thighs don't touch, ever since I disembodied her.

I write about and consume cannabis, although consume is an understatement. For research purposes, I visit my local and federally illegal cannabis dispensary to get flower (mainly sativa strains) with slight aromatic notes of berries and pesticides. I also make sure to grab a couple of pre-filled cartridges to accompany my other paraphernalia that comes in a child-proof pouch, unfortunately. These materials inspire me to create valuable content for the cannabis industry and beyond. Hero isn't a word I'm comfortable hearing from other people, so I'll just say it myself. I'm a hero.

I write from home, which is technically my parent's. While it's not an ideal living situation, I do enjoy not having to pay rent, despite my parent's insistence that I do. For all the bad mouthing I do behind my family's back, they've always supported my dreams, even when I wanted to be a musician. I wasn't just in it for the groupies. I was in it for the pure fun of playing music. And the groupies. I sit down at my desk and furiously type away as I listen to my favorite genre of music, Scientology Metal.

While I work mainly from home, sometimes I like to visit local coffeeshops, although the baristas get mad whenever I write with crayon on the wall. I tell them that I ran out of paper. I've found a cool place that makes delicious fair trade coffee that only slightly fucks over the coffee bean farmer and their family. I love the freedom afforded to me by working remotely. I can literally work wherever I want (as long as there's strong wi-fi) and whenever I want (although, strictly during Pacific Standard Time business hours).

Whenever I'm not writing for clients or myself, I like to spend time with my friends and family. For example, the other day I helped my friend move. He didn't ask for it and wasn't even moving, but I did it anyway because that's just the type of friend I am. You don't have to ask me to do anything. I anticipate needs. I did the same thing with my dog. I anticipated his needs so much that I had him put down before he even developed any symptoms of a chronic illness.

I also like to spend time window shopping with my friends, though I am running out space for all of these windows. We like to visit craft breweries to try different types of beer. My favorites are the ones where I can taste the notes of pretentiousness. Sometimes, I'll even get some writing done at a brewery despite getting awkward stares from other patrons. I guess they're not big fans of people dictating text into their phone as they pace around during trivia night.

At the end of the day, I get tremendous satisfaction knowing I am dispelling myths surrounding cannabis, so that people can learn how cannabis can help their lives. Writing (and reading), in general, can also be therapeutic tools to lower stress and improve your mood. In fact, writing helped me find the meaning of life. It was in the dictionary.

After almost two years of taking a generic brand of a popular antidepressant daily, I decided to call it quits. The ceaseless intake of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRI) tablets lost its appeal during my first discontinuation syndrome experience. I had gone three days without taking my 20mg drug and didn't notice until waves of dizziness and mental fog consumed me. Even minor movements were followed by intense bouts of vertigo and hopelessness.

I was incapacitated for the entire day as I scrambled to book an appointment to get a prescription refill from my psychiatrist. I left a voicemail to the low-income mental health clinic I attend asking for the earliest appointment available due to my intense feelings of medication abstinence. Even in the worst moments of my anxiety and depression, I had never felt anything similar to these wretched physical symptoms after discontinuing my Citalopram.

I was thankful to get a prescription refill (and many more after that), if only to reduce the extreme physical discomforts I had experienced. During that time, I also began to travel a lot more with my girlfriend and found that bringing antidepressants on trips was more of a hindrance than a therapeutic tool. A cursory glance at the countless amount of articles on weaning yourself off SSRI's detail harsh, and sometimes fatal, consequences associated with getting off medication too soon.

My psychiatrist and I developed a rudimentary plan on how I was to reduce my dosage to, eventually, stop taking antidepressants altogether. I would start by reducing my dosage by half (down to 10mg) and see how that felt. A few days later, I received a letter letting me know that I needed to find a new psychiatrist due to some health insurance changes. I should've done more research before starting Citalopram, but hindsight is 20/20.

My internet sleuthing led me to a wealth of sources, including one from the Medical Board of California. In the records, I found my psychiatrist had grossly and negligently overprescribed medication to multiple patients. Some of these patients had a history of alcohol and drug abuse. The Medical Board disciplined him with six years of probation and left me feeling let down by the mental health care system. Looking back, I would've asked more questions about my treatment.

Before continuing with my dosage tapering process, I was having doubts about getting off SSRI's. Once I knew I needed to look for another psychiatrist, I decided that I wouldn't be seeking further treatment with pharmaceutical pills. I had learned so much about taking care of myself without the use of antidepressants including eating a mainly plant-based diet. I, essentially, freed myself from the tight reigns of antidepressant tolerance and dependance with a personalized mental health strategy.

My prescription bottle felt lighter and lighter until I took my final 5mg tablet (broken down from a single 20mg tablet) and hoped for the best. My first week off the medication was characterized by emotional whiplash, insomnia, dizziness, irritability, and agitation. I was able to keep it together because I knew the discomfort was temporary and I had a strong support system. Only after visiting rock bottom (and paying a few more visits after that) did I make sense of mental health maintenance.

I've learned, through a tumultuous trial and error phase known as life, that lifestyle choices have an enormous impact on our well-being. What seems like common sense now was out of the purview of my reality filtered by my self-defeating thoughts. I've taken an indefinite break from pharmaceuticals for serotonin and replaced my mental health regimen with a healthy diet, regular exercise, and accepting that failure is an everyday struggle.

After a month of being off SSRI medication, only minor and fleeting discontinuation effects persist, but the future doesn't seem to be so bleak anymore. While life, in general, is still pretty fucking bleak, now I can come back from the other side with a better mental health maintenance strategy.