I’m a 24 year old man. I haven’t been in a serious relationship in 5 years and apart from a handful of one night stands, I have not initiated any sort of sexual relationship in that time.

I have dropped out of three college degrees, one in a prestigious school. Every one of them was in a subject I had a great interest in initially. They are all still things I follow but in a less stringent, more dilletantish, manner.

I don’t believe in any sort of meaning or importance to life. Not since I was a child. Furthermore, my own existence means almost nothing to me. Which is both liberating and terrifying.

Reading this back, I suppose the obvious question might be why don’t I kill myself. Well, I don’t think I could. There are a small, faithful group of family and friends who love me. A friend of mine, many years ago, confided in me (with a level of detail that pains me still) that he wanted to die and how he would do it. I never want to make anyone feel like that did.

I’m not sure what advice I’m looking for. “I can’t go on … I’ll go on” seems to be it.  I’m not medicated and I don’t really want to be. I’m not convinced that waiting for the people who care about me to die first is a great idea either.

I guess I’d just like a sober, critical eye to tell me what is what.

A man at twenty-four? Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy. It sounds like you still fit squarely into the boy category. That’s fine. Nothing wrong with an extended adolescence, but that may be the very thing causing the problem.

You’ve got no real responsibilities, no reason to get up in the morning, no fire in your belly. It’s not that you’re depressed. You’re just bored and well educated enough to wallow in existential angst.

If you wore high collars and drank things like absinthe, one might just say you were suffering from ennui. I don’t know. That shit requires style points, and I can’t tell if you qualify.

Tell you what. How about you quit your day job and hop on the next flight to Haiti. Spend the rest of 2010 helping rebuild. If that idea has too much hair on its balls, then scale it back until you’re comfortable.

At the very least, how about you change up your game by volunteering at homeless shelters, children’s hospitals, or whatever you’ve got nearby.

Do something good. Serve a purpose. Help your fellow man. Trust me. It’ll make you feel better than that medication you don’t need anyway.

I have a dilemma: life or death. Is it worth living a life with a disease that will only hinder my quality of life? My hopes and dreams? Or should I simply cut my losses and call it quits?

This one is entirely up to you.

Most folks tend to skew towards life, even after life’s quality is significantly diminished. Then again, when faced with certain brutal realities about the frailty of the human condition, it’s normal to think about these kinds of things.

If your disease is progressive and terminal, it’s perfectly understandable to game out the various scenarios in which you’d prefer not to stick around.

Unbearable is a word that means something different to each of us, and after a period of rational and informed reflection, if you came up with an end-of-life plan that was dignified and then shared that information with your friends and family, I’m sure the general response would be one of solemn acceptance.

I hope you stick around, though. If it were me I’d do my damnedest to adapt to whatever fucked up shit got dropped on my world, and I’d hold out as long as motherfuckingly possible.

The alternative is inevitable, but entirely undesirable.

have you ever had a girl crush? not necessarily in a sexual way; i don’t want to sleep with her (have explored my bi-sexual side and have decided the dick is the only thing for me), but she is GORGEOUS. i don’t want to fuck her, but i want to be around her all the time. and, i kind of want to be her. we are casual “girl friends,” meet for happy hour, do coke occasionally together wherein i run my mouth too much and try to mother her. ugh, what is that? help me.

Have I ever had a girl crush? Absolutely. Have I ever had a non-sexual obsession with another girl? That’d be a no. You’re a little bit crazy there, single white female.

Do yourself a favor. Don’t go saying any of this shit out loud, okay? That’s a one way ticket to awkward town. Just chill the fuck out and recognize that you’re tweaking. No big deal. You got a little whiff of her ass and it made your head spin a bit. You’re just dizzy. It’ll pass.

“First let me just say that yes, coke is actually not that bad. In fact, alcohol and tobacco are significantly worse than coke and weed. Anyone who says differently is misinformed or has an agenda.”

Do you really not see the difference with these? It is not about level of harm – everyone can figure out that alcohol is “worse” in physiological terms, kills more people and harms more families. This is not the difference, because otherwise you would only be advocating degrees of harm (or as you prefer to call it, damage). The difference is that there is no line of cocaine that you did that did not come from harm to someone else. And by using / abusing this you are supporting the harm done. Cocaine, as an illegal drug, is not manufactured in factories like alcohol or cigarettes. There is always human suffering involved. This is the real choice that you make and that you advocate when making libertine statements about coke – somewhere, somehow some person suffered in exchange for your high.

I immensely enjoy your blog, and would prefer to send my own comment on a positive note, but this just seems out of line with your otherwise educated and well thought out opinions. Before you dissect me – I am not a Christian, or even straight edge or on a mission. I just believe if you advocate something so openly here and which is something I feel strongly about, I should let my voice be heard as well.

You make an excellent point.

Now give back your shoes, clothes, and pretty much anything you’ve ever bought cheap at Wal Mart.

You want to see human suffering? Go hang out in the cotton fields and the third world sweatshops where most all of your garments and trinkets originated. That’s right. Somewhere, somehow some person suffered in exchange for your fruit-of-the-loom undies.

I’m not making light of your point. It’s valid, but don’t kid yourself into thinking that legalities play the slightest role in the first world’s exploitation of the third. Wake up and smell the Latin American agricultural commodity. My blow is no more politically tainted than your bowl of sugar.

Oh, and that human suffering I exchanged for my high? Courtesy of the United States Government. Coca eradication efforts by the US have amounted to little more than biological warfare against an indigenous population. The War on Drugs is the only pure evil here. Our government should be ashamed and embarrassed at the colossal amounts of time and money wasted trying to legislate morality.

Prohibition is what causes suffering. There’s nothing inherently evil about the Coca plant. It’s the assholes who make it illegal that cause all the problems.

Hey I’ve never really done this before, but I need some advice.

There’s this girl, cliche I know, but I fell for her fast. And for some time, I was under the impression that the feeling was mutual. We went on like this for about a month just flirting no problems.

But then she asked me if I was “developing feelings”. Of course, I said yes, but when I asked her if she felt the same: “No, I guess I don’t have much to feel”.

I freak and ask for that “let’s be friends” as a last second decision. I know, dumb. But we agreed. And I thought I could let it go, but I didn’t. I talked to all my friends about it. They told me you should be straight forward with her. So one night I figured I would be. I told her how I felt.

She told me she didn’t feel the same. Still. And that she tried to like me, but she just couldn’t find it. So after a long talk, I decided I needed some space. I realize being around her isn’t healthy, for either of us. So I said adieu and she said “laters” because she’s not good with goodbyes.

Issue solved? I wish. Ever since, I’ve been replaying that scene in my head. I know its something everyone does, but I need a slap of reality. How the fuck do I get her out of my head? Some people say the depression is oozing off me, but I don’t know if I can feel it anymore. My friend Sam told me to tell you for some good advice. Thoughts?

Your friend Sam pointed you in my direction, eh?

Well then, allow me to quickly sum up the very simple message that has taken every last ounce of Sam’s willpower not to scream at the top of his lungs every time you mention this girl:

Quit being such a fucking pussy and move the fuck on already!

There. You’re welcome, Sam.

Oh wait, you think he needs a little more? Okay. Here goes:

Listen, asshole. A month of unrequited flirting is barely enough to establish a low grade infatuation. At best, you’re getting over a silly teenage crush. That entitles you to a week’s worth of unbearably shitty break-up music and one round of drinks from a close friend. That’s it.

It’s time for you to man the fuck up, because you blew past your Phil Collins quota the second Sam handed you off to me like a torch at the 2010 Whiny Little Bitch Olympics. Go home, wash the hurt out of your butt, and put on a clean shirt for the next game of poker.