Of A Cherry On Top Of A Crap Cracker.

Realizations are always a bummer. They come in all shapes, sizes and packages, some friendly and easily undoable with a nice strong mug of coffee, like finding that you’ve retweeted Unicorn Glitter Tits the other night, and some are impossible to fix if you don’t have a time machine, but that’s what Alzheimer’s is for.

I don’t know why everybody hates Alzheimer’s, it’s there to make being a half centenarian more tolerable. It’s blessing granted by nature, the cherry on top of a crap cracker,  in the form of slight dementia to a certain select. Imagine having lived that long and you still remember every single little thing you did wrong, that’s torture.

Granted, some of them develop a humorous tinge over the years, like the memory of your young self bumping into your, then much taller, crush’s torso trying to find him in  a dark movie theatre, or the memory of having your head stuck in a revolving door because you were too busy sedating your mother’s nerves on the phone to bid your time when entering the medieval vice, or that other memory of how your reaction to the geography teacher stating that the same water has been around since the beginning of time going through purification cycles of evaporation and condensation was to raise your hand and blatantly ask her if that means we’re drinking dinosaur pee, or maybe that other memory of you crashing face first into a lamp post because you were excited about finally getting your hands on the latest copy of the Harry Potter series that you couldn’t possibly wait till you’re home to read it.

However, most of them fart out an insufferable hue of guilt that only keeps growing over time till its sheer monstrosity eats you up; munching its way through your cranial mazes that you can almost hear it drilling its way to your conscious sector.

And that’s why I could never understand why people find Alzheimer’s a liability. I mean, it’s almost a blessing, even more so that it’s incurable. People would pay to have that! They wish on genies to undo their blunders yet they manage to be hypocritical enough to shoot it down when granted.

What’s so horrible about not recognizing acquaintances, forgetting recent conversation and events, and ultimately losing the ability to spot danger? That’s bliss, people. That’s an Undo button provided on a silver platter!

Nature finally gives you the opportunity to start anew and you finally want to clamp on to your problems? All the ex’s, the dead relatives and friends, the people you’ve lost over things you’ve done wrong, your career dilemmas, your petty worries, your consequences, your shit and your mistakes, everything is taken back. You’re no longer held at fault for any of that, because you’re no longer there, but somehow you still are to see all of those people inexplicably nice, and even the ones that never show up, you’re given the courtesy of not remembering them. It’s the solution to all of your problems, and it’s flagged preposterous?

Alzheimer’s give people the chance to be happy over the re-discovery of little things. Re-learning how to work a toaster would make their day, or perhaps tasting coffee for the first time after 68 years of drinking it every morning, taking a long bubble bath having forgotten how awesomely it relaxes all of your muscles, talking to the person you love and getting to know them all over again, re-living all of the beautiful things and forgetting all of the horrendously ugly things. So you forget how to swallow in the process, too bad. I’d rather forget how to swallow if it means I forget about a lot of other crap. The setbacks are the price you pay for the chance you’ve been given to be happy again, for what little time you have.

Why do people want to cure Alzheimer’s? Because they’re selfish. If they’d stop to think about the happiness of the supposedly afflicted, they wouldn’t be so sure about whether they’re jealous because they can’t contract it and would rather drag the person back into their petty reality and provide  them with the guilt dose they relished.

People have been getting drunk, high, popping pills and risking their life on extreme sports to get that one little break from conscious thought, they’ve been destroying their lives trying to find that little anecdote to memory with all forms of destructive escapist habits, they’ve been trying to build a time machine ever since they knew how to call time for what it is and when they find it, they try to cure it. How does that make sense? You’ve just been re-born you fucking morons, why are you trying to take that away?

The nerve on humans. Once a dipshit, always a dipshit.