I’ve Got A Safe Space Alright, It’s At The Bottom Of This Whiskey Bottle

All I ever hear about nowadays is how these sensitive ass kids need a safe space at their colleges and workplaces. Well listen up you little spaghetti-boned babies, I've got a safe space myself and it's at the bottom of this Jack Daniels bottle.

You want a break? You want someone to hug you and change your diaper? Well, that ain't going to happen, the real world doesn't have safe spaces. If you want to manage your emotions like an adult then you need to drown out all your sadness and pain with the inclusion of alcoholism into your life.

I hate my construction job, it makes my back hurt and my boss verbally abuses me. You think I've got an HR department to complain to or a doctor I can have take a look at my spine? I don't, because my boss runs a cash-only business and is too cheap to have medical insurance for his employees.

That's why I drink - because whiskey is my safe space and the deeper I go into that bottle the safer I feel. I never went to college and now I feel too old to go back. My father always said I was going to amount to nothing and now at the halfway point of my life I realize he was right. You think therapy could help me work through that? Sure, maybe after many months of it, but the liquor store is open now and I don't have the strength to confront my inner demons. So up the bottle goes to my lips until that burning liquid destroys my throat and my liver and the only thing I feel is that numbing blur that pulsates through my body.

You kids nowadays are so comfortable with talking about your problems and gaining an understanding of your emotional faculties. But when I was your age and I brought my problems up to my father he just called me a pussy and gave me money for a twelve-pack of beer. That night, we both got drunk and he kicked me out of his house. I've been burying the pain of that terrible night ever since. The only problem with drinking is that the alcohol can only hide something for so long, it eventually dries up and then you're left there with nothing but shame and guilt over your learned helplessness. So you can take your safe spaces and your emotional intelligence and you can stick it where the sun doesn't shine.

You know where else the sun doesn't shine? The depths of my heart. It used to shine there but it has long ago grown dark and now all that remains is a sinking feeling that I can't escape from. At least until I fetch another bottle of booze and start the cycle over again. You kids can come talk to me when you've spent decades suppressing the worst of your emotions and developing terrible coping mechanisms. Until then, how about you stop telling me how to treat you respectfully?