Most people know about Afrin's addictive potential but do most of them also know how dangerous it is? Apparently it can cause horrible side effects like semi-permanent closure of the nasal passage, hallucination, suicidal thoughts, gnashing of teeth, killer robots, etc. I discovered this b/c I took afrin tonight (and cough syrup. I'm drinking it out of the bottle these days, don't judge me. It's really more to do with impatience than irresponsibility) and had a bad reaction as I do from time to time with Afrin. My throat has been irritatingly dry and prickly for the past couple hours. I've been sucking on citrus vitamin c drops non-stop in an attempt to get my throat to re-hydrate itself to no avail.
In the height of my discomfort, I googled "afrin throat needles" or something like that to see if my problem is common and/or has a simple remedy. I did not find any forums or sites discussing my particular problem but I did find a woman describing how Afrin had basically ruined her life. It makes me think twice about using it, except not really because the aforementioned woman, let's call her Beth for convenience's sake, took Afrin for five days straight, whereas I adhere strictly to the three day max rule as proscribed on the bottle. Besides, Afrin is magical, I could never give it up. What other over the counter (or prescription) medication works as instantaneously and well as Afrin? NONE that I've ever tried. When a product delivers on that level, I cannot abandon it. But I'm still scared of it. Kind of like Lady Gaga. I guess we didn't really need to name Beth, did we?
But what really inspired this post was my job. It takes longer than three days to become addicted, but the addiction is just as life-ruining. I hate myself. I hate people. I'm tired of my friends, and I can't hang out with the friends I'm not tired of because I'm too busy. I have little to no faith in the world, I get angry more often and faster than I used to, I'm a bigger asshole when I drive now, and I can't lose weight b/c of my ridiculous schedule and because I'm surrounded by fatty restaurant food.
But I can't leave because I'm addicted. Why? The money. I'm not a Rockefeller, or even one of the hussies that Tiger was probably paying off in vain to keep their mouths shut, but I'm living pretty comfortably as a college student. I can go shopping or go out to eat whenever I want, rent a private room in a nice, newer apartment, buy dvds and $44 Flight of the Conchords tickets, afford the monthly payments on a car with leather heated seats, take a road trip to LA, pay for unexpected $1200 car repairs when I break down in the Mojave desert on the way to LA, etc. I was a poor college student before I had this job, and I'm not going back!
I need these luxuries like a heroin junkie needs her needle. And unfortunately, I've become accustomed to prostituting myself at the feet of Utah Valley restaurant patrons in order to get my fix, just as the junkie would prostitute herself on the Reno street corners to get hers. Drugs do not beget happy, fulfilled lives, and neither does restaurant work. Yet so few of us seem able to leave it behind and build a more functional life. The parallels between drugs and my job are disturbing.
The light at the end of the tunnel, of course, is that I'm set to graduate in a few months, at which time I intend to throw my apron down dramatically on the line and leave the service industry forever, having acquired the necessary qualifications to find a bleak office job and wither away in a 9 to 5 life.