SuspiciousBiscuit
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2019
- Messages
- 35
Long time site lurker and big advocate for harm reduction and using drugs to better one's life. I believe that most drugs are tools that we can utilize to our benefit, if done correctly. Being a responsible drug user, if you will. I believe myself to fall under this category for over the last 4-5 years. But the real question is where did my life make this socially unacceptable turn, and what compelled me to double down and refine my lifestyle and choices so that it is seamlessly integrated into my daily routine? Why do I feel this is the best option for me? That shit goes back to my childhood (Stop rolling your eyes, it's not what you think and I will save you the boring details)
Since the age of 4, or so I have recollected over years of sifting through my mind and remnants of my childhood, my family's relationship has always been a little...different. Being a college dropout, having multiple children and a wife with undiagnosed mental illnesses, my father worked hard labor gigs here and there, and we moved around quite a bit. With him working so much I never really saw him. Even as I got older I never really saw him much due to his work, which as a teenager I was entirely accepting of. My mom was a "stay at home" mom (she would leave us at the house to go to neighbors houses and they would all do who knows what housewife stuff) and me and my siblings were left to fend for ourselves in a way. Mind you, we didn't live in squalor or poverty. We were a middle class family in the suburban America and all that cutesy shit, but none of us were happy. Since me and my siblings were left on our own, we all eventually isolated ourselves so as to only have to worry and rely on ourselves. Having instability from the parents perhaps ingrained itself into our psyches, leaving us feeling that we cannot trust anyone but ourselves? I can't say for sure. I'm no psychologist, therapist, church pastor, whatever. As a child in a middle class home, I was forced to figure life out on my own in my own way. Cook, clean, laundry, money, taxes, puberty (ya know, the "Talk") I was a straight B student in school. I had a lot of friends in school and in the neighborhood, but I wasn't like the other "normal" kids and their families. I found out that people saw my home life as very peculiar and they would look down on me in a way I can't describe. This is when I started to keep everything to myself fearing that criticism is just a wrong word around the corner.
Blah blah blah blah blah, fast forward to age 12. I am in the garage playing with my dads tools, when I come across a portable, rusted, brown and decrepit looking toolbox with a lock on it. Being the nosey little fuck I was, I found the key after only searching for about an hour (son of a bitch had it hanging on the door of the electrical panel) Upon opening this chest I am instantly greeted with a treasure trove of loose bloody needles, pills, and about 20 vials of liquid. My mom had just recently become a nurse, and I remember seeing the family van become more beat up over the course of a year, but I was a child and didn't care. My older brother who was 19 at the time walks in, sees me in front of the chest, and calmly walks over and closes it, placing the lock back onto the latch and holding his hand out at me waiting for me to present him the key. We didn't say anything to each other, but this was the only moment in time that I ever felt like I really understood my brother and what he was telling me. Like we were talking to each other telepathically. He turns around and walks off. Hours later, there's an intervention in the living room, my moms parents who drove over 900 miles (which even I knew was a strange thing for them to just be at our house unexpectedly) were screaming at her, and they soon hauled her away while she was kicking and screaming like a banshee out of hell into their 90's Ford red minivan, and off to rehab. I never saw her again. No one ever told me what happened, no one even acknowledged her not being around anymore. I had to piece together the story myself.
Turns out my mom went back to school (i had no idea), and got her degree to become a nurse practitioner. My father being gone 6 out of 7 days a week for work, was constantly accused of having an affair (he wasn't), and my mom being the fucking genius she was decided to self medicate her sorrows and problems by stealing the hospitals Dilaudid (the vials) supply, and experimenting with various other narcotics. She would shoot up on her way home from work and crash the minivan on numerous occasions, come home and run straight upstairs and slam as much as humanly possible, and would be knocked out until the next morning where she would wake up for work and repeat the previous day, or she would wake up at 3 am singing as loud as her little voice could go all whilst making cinnamon rolls and talking absolute nonsense and gibberish to herself in the kitchen. It became so common place that us kids eventually stopped paying attention to it. My dad eventually pieced everything together, came home early from work a few days early, gathered the paraphernalia, and called her parents. (i'm not sure if this is even considered relevant, but I have never told anyone this. So I'm gonna roll with it) I eventually tracked her down when i got older, but never reached out. Funny enough for a long time before I found her she only lived 10 miles down the road from me. None of us had the slightest clue. She's doing well, but has not remarried or even dated that I know of. She just got her nursing license back so she is working again and rebuilding her life. I wish her well and hold no grudge against her.
Blah blah blah fast forward. Being the last kid in the house since the others moved out before my dumbass, and my dad playing single parent who is never around, I graduated high school with good grades and then proceeded to drop out of my first semester of college.. He then told me "if you wont go to school, then you need to learn how to fly on your own. I want you out of the house in the next few months." I was 17, I respect that decision. I worked hard for everything I have ever had in my life, and he didn't want me to grow soft and become lazy and dependent on him financially like the other kids in the neighborhood. So I got a job and left. I talk to him maybe once or twice every few months. My brother and sisters all do their own life things with their own families and I'm just floating through life. I barely contact them. Even if we do reach out to one another, it's just business. We don't really care.
Then I found drugs, and HOLY SHIT DID MY LIFE TAKE A LEFT FUCKING TURN DOWN A 45 DEGREE HILL WITH NO BRAKES.
From 17 being in my first apartment with some high school friends, to 22 and getting kicked out of my third apartment by a third set of friends (It was a love hate relationship. That's a whole other saga in itself) I was doing Every.Single.Drug.I.Could.Find. at least the ones that didn't involve a needle. I hate needles because I am a pussy. After going through my psychedelics phase and "Finding myself" I finally cycled through the speed category of funtime drug world party place. I started to take a hell of a lot MDMA, and smoked an ounce a week of crystal and started to really lose my grip on the handlebars of life. I started working lights at dubstep festivals (which btw, almost the entirety of those sets, equipment, etc, is funded by lots and lots of drugs. I mean I saw so much Molly and Weed roll through those crew tents from the sound tea and artists that you'd almost think there wasn't any festival) and was basically trying to kill myself with drugs and partying. I eventually quit accepting money and only wanted to get paid in drugs and somewhere to sleep (my boss was nice enough) Drowning in strange snatch night after night, it's a miracle I never caught an STD or have a child somewhere across the country. Finally I met a girl who blew me away, and she made me see that I can live life sober and be happy with myself. She had also just been "divorced" (she was still legally married, she actually never got divorced haha) and had a son about 5 months before we met. We quickly fell in love, got our own place , and life was good. For a short minute. Until it wasn't.
I'll spare you next 10 years of ups and downs in a relationship that abruptly ended due to me leaving work 5 hours early and walking into a room of 8 guys plowing my 4 '10" soon to be fiance on my king sized bed in the middle of amish country. A plowing of such epic proportions, that I questioned my own manhood for a second. So epic that I was awe stricken to the point of silence and paralysis, leaving me stunned for roughly 2 minutes watching a man with what I can only describe as glorified and well thought out pieces of "art" that were slashed into this hideous looking mans back by a retarded Stevie Wonder bastard child, or if he was the experiment of his tattoo artists new "technique"(hatchet man, barbed wires, some eight balls and snakes, I think one was an iguana? Idk) covering his back and ass. So many dicks. So many asses. I have to this day never seen anything like what I witnessed in that room.
Grabbing my mattress (Yes I took the fucking mattress. It was a tempurpedic, fuck you.) and my backpack full of clothes, I didn't even turn around to say goodbye as I hopped into my Chevy HHR and drove 8 hours West. Btw of you want a foolproof way of deterring any pussy that is within a 200 mile radius, drive that car. Never fails. People will think you're a rapist.
*Interlude* That's a whole lot of nonsense above this message, and I apologize for that. Maybe that's all useless information, but I don't care. I haven't had anyone to talk to or a platform to speak on in my life. Let me finish. You don't have to. Or you can. Idgaf whatever man.
Here's where the title will start to make a little bit more sense.
So, I am completely devastated at the events that took place on the cum soaked mattress that I lay on in the middle of my new house. I cry myself to sleep from time to time, get a good job, and start over. I do the same thing every day. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. I made a shorter post earlier this month with some detail on that, check it out or don't. I start working crazy shifts, and the isolation sets in after a while. I have made ZERO friends outside of my employees that I hired which don't count. Fuck those guys. I cant meet women because I lost my sense of identity. I lost my manhood. I felt so empty and worthless. I'm a scared little bitch and I got fat from depression. I contemplated suicide often. At work. At home. When I'm watching porn. At the grocery store. etc.
Transition to one night on a bus ride back from a bar. Dude man sitting across from me starts snorting white shit off what appears to be a reading glass case, looks up to me staring at him and says "You wanna hit some?"
I did not hesitate to snort that mystery powder on that mans dirty and smelly glasses case for a single second. I just got up, sat next to him, took a big sniff off a probably 2 inch line, and I was back to where I belonged. It was like Jesus descending from the heavens to hand me a big ole sledgehammer while softly saying "Now let's fucking destroy some shit" I had been skull fucked by satan and simultaneously being getting a blowjob by angels, one of which tried to slip a pinkie in my ass. It was magnificent and I had missed this drug so bad for 10 years.
I immediately said "I've got money, can you get more" he was my connect up until about a month ago when he went full POS mode on me. Now I'm down my one and only plug.
Anyways, I started smoking ice everyday. My performance at work improved. So much so my bosses boss recognized my work and exceeding sales. Fuck yeah. Don't stop me now. A few months later, I met my now wife. We hit it off, and she's an easy 12/10. WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE, and she's a fucking doctor. But i am confident on ice. I am a badass. I look better now that I've lost all that depression fat. Im superman. We have been together for years, all the while I have done Ice every single day. haven't missed a day in almost 5 years now. No one and I mean NO ONE is none the wiser of my habits. I have found a way to make it seamless and fluent with me and my day to day actions, i would probably be pretty sus if I wasn't on the stuff.. That would be my downfall and giveaway; if I run out. For the past 5 years though I've been smooth sailing. I'm back in school getting my degree. Then I can start working again and we can really rake in the dough and start accumulating more savings for real estate investments and expanding our (mostly her) portfolios. I still have perfect teeth, and my skin is still in good condition given the treatments I do every single night before bed. I'm told that I am really attractive (I don't think so AT ALL, but that's not what I'm getting at here) so that even continues to lessen anyones suspicions of unusual behavior or activity. But life has not restricted me from using. For example: We be sitting in a super fancy restaurant in downtown and I'll get up to take a toke outside with the cigarette smokers. No one notices. She doesnt know I smoke, but I just say I'm getting something from the car real fast. I dont over do it, I just sustain a state of productivity with my tokes (some nights I will smoke a whole bowl or two in a session, but thats for different reasons)
My point is: Meth has gotten me into shape, helped me gain the confidence to find the woman of my dreams that I had the honor of marrying and now share an amazing life with, and given me the drive and courage to quit my dead end job and go back to school to get a degree (i'm only a few semesters away from my bachelors) It has given me my life back, and with one hell of a bonus boost. I love it.
Now look, I'm not stupid. When i say stupid, I mean I'm not uneducated or unintelligent. I know that one day this I will have to get off this ride and come back to reality. I cant keep this up forever because one or more things could come to fruition.
1) Jail - The main reason i am glad to be a loner with this stuff is because I can rely on myself. I don't have to worry about some tweaker dipshit giving away my position and sharing a cell with him. I'm professional, so I don't draw attention. No criminal record. No nothing. I look innocent as fuck.
2) Wife divorces me - This could also be combined with option number 1. She would not tolerate this in the slightest. No therapy. No second chances. I'd be kicked to the curb.
3) Death - I get some bad stuff, piss off the wrong person, or just flat out lose my mind and end it all. I dont go into psychosis anymore so this is the least probable. I sleep every night and eat 3 square meals a day.
I love Ice, but it's caveat is what will ultimately be my downfall. It's not a sustainable substance to take every day, and I will eventually need to descend from my palace in the clouds and live amongst mortals once more.
Until then, I'm doing what I can to make sure I graduate, and take care of my wife and making sure she's happy.. Everything else is a sidequest.
Like i said, I have no reason to really be saying all this. I haven't bothered to read it, so i am willing to bet it's a wild fuck of a mess. Sorry. I just needed to clear my head for once in over 35 years. No one has been able to listen to what I have to say, and believe it or not I do feel better at least venting out the mess in my head.
Okay. Wifes asleep. Gonna go toke a bowl. Take care friends.
Since the age of 4, or so I have recollected over years of sifting through my mind and remnants of my childhood, my family's relationship has always been a little...different. Being a college dropout, having multiple children and a wife with undiagnosed mental illnesses, my father worked hard labor gigs here and there, and we moved around quite a bit. With him working so much I never really saw him. Even as I got older I never really saw him much due to his work, which as a teenager I was entirely accepting of. My mom was a "stay at home" mom (she would leave us at the house to go to neighbors houses and they would all do who knows what housewife stuff) and me and my siblings were left to fend for ourselves in a way. Mind you, we didn't live in squalor or poverty. We were a middle class family in the suburban America and all that cutesy shit, but none of us were happy. Since me and my siblings were left on our own, we all eventually isolated ourselves so as to only have to worry and rely on ourselves. Having instability from the parents perhaps ingrained itself into our psyches, leaving us feeling that we cannot trust anyone but ourselves? I can't say for sure. I'm no psychologist, therapist, church pastor, whatever. As a child in a middle class home, I was forced to figure life out on my own in my own way. Cook, clean, laundry, money, taxes, puberty (ya know, the "Talk") I was a straight B student in school. I had a lot of friends in school and in the neighborhood, but I wasn't like the other "normal" kids and their families. I found out that people saw my home life as very peculiar and they would look down on me in a way I can't describe. This is when I started to keep everything to myself fearing that criticism is just a wrong word around the corner.
Blah blah blah blah blah, fast forward to age 12. I am in the garage playing with my dads tools, when I come across a portable, rusted, brown and decrepit looking toolbox with a lock on it. Being the nosey little fuck I was, I found the key after only searching for about an hour (son of a bitch had it hanging on the door of the electrical panel) Upon opening this chest I am instantly greeted with a treasure trove of loose bloody needles, pills, and about 20 vials of liquid. My mom had just recently become a nurse, and I remember seeing the family van become more beat up over the course of a year, but I was a child and didn't care. My older brother who was 19 at the time walks in, sees me in front of the chest, and calmly walks over and closes it, placing the lock back onto the latch and holding his hand out at me waiting for me to present him the key. We didn't say anything to each other, but this was the only moment in time that I ever felt like I really understood my brother and what he was telling me. Like we were talking to each other telepathically. He turns around and walks off. Hours later, there's an intervention in the living room, my moms parents who drove over 900 miles (which even I knew was a strange thing for them to just be at our house unexpectedly) were screaming at her, and they soon hauled her away while she was kicking and screaming like a banshee out of hell into their 90's Ford red minivan, and off to rehab. I never saw her again. No one ever told me what happened, no one even acknowledged her not being around anymore. I had to piece together the story myself.
Turns out my mom went back to school (i had no idea), and got her degree to become a nurse practitioner. My father being gone 6 out of 7 days a week for work, was constantly accused of having an affair (he wasn't), and my mom being the fucking genius she was decided to self medicate her sorrows and problems by stealing the hospitals Dilaudid (the vials) supply, and experimenting with various other narcotics. She would shoot up on her way home from work and crash the minivan on numerous occasions, come home and run straight upstairs and slam as much as humanly possible, and would be knocked out until the next morning where she would wake up for work and repeat the previous day, or she would wake up at 3 am singing as loud as her little voice could go all whilst making cinnamon rolls and talking absolute nonsense and gibberish to herself in the kitchen. It became so common place that us kids eventually stopped paying attention to it. My dad eventually pieced everything together, came home early from work a few days early, gathered the paraphernalia, and called her parents. (i'm not sure if this is even considered relevant, but I have never told anyone this. So I'm gonna roll with it) I eventually tracked her down when i got older, but never reached out. Funny enough for a long time before I found her she only lived 10 miles down the road from me. None of us had the slightest clue. She's doing well, but has not remarried or even dated that I know of. She just got her nursing license back so she is working again and rebuilding her life. I wish her well and hold no grudge against her.
Blah blah blah fast forward. Being the last kid in the house since the others moved out before my dumbass, and my dad playing single parent who is never around, I graduated high school with good grades and then proceeded to drop out of my first semester of college.. He then told me "if you wont go to school, then you need to learn how to fly on your own. I want you out of the house in the next few months." I was 17, I respect that decision. I worked hard for everything I have ever had in my life, and he didn't want me to grow soft and become lazy and dependent on him financially like the other kids in the neighborhood. So I got a job and left. I talk to him maybe once or twice every few months. My brother and sisters all do their own life things with their own families and I'm just floating through life. I barely contact them. Even if we do reach out to one another, it's just business. We don't really care.
Then I found drugs, and HOLY SHIT DID MY LIFE TAKE A LEFT FUCKING TURN DOWN A 45 DEGREE HILL WITH NO BRAKES.
From 17 being in my first apartment with some high school friends, to 22 and getting kicked out of my third apartment by a third set of friends (It was a love hate relationship. That's a whole other saga in itself) I was doing Every.Single.Drug.I.Could.Find. at least the ones that didn't involve a needle. I hate needles because I am a pussy. After going through my psychedelics phase and "Finding myself" I finally cycled through the speed category of funtime drug world party place. I started to take a hell of a lot MDMA, and smoked an ounce a week of crystal and started to really lose my grip on the handlebars of life. I started working lights at dubstep festivals (which btw, almost the entirety of those sets, equipment, etc, is funded by lots and lots of drugs. I mean I saw so much Molly and Weed roll through those crew tents from the sound tea and artists that you'd almost think there wasn't any festival) and was basically trying to kill myself with drugs and partying. I eventually quit accepting money and only wanted to get paid in drugs and somewhere to sleep (my boss was nice enough) Drowning in strange snatch night after night, it's a miracle I never caught an STD or have a child somewhere across the country. Finally I met a girl who blew me away, and she made me see that I can live life sober and be happy with myself. She had also just been "divorced" (she was still legally married, she actually never got divorced haha) and had a son about 5 months before we met. We quickly fell in love, got our own place , and life was good. For a short minute. Until it wasn't.
I'll spare you next 10 years of ups and downs in a relationship that abruptly ended due to me leaving work 5 hours early and walking into a room of 8 guys plowing my 4 '10" soon to be fiance on my king sized bed in the middle of amish country. A plowing of such epic proportions, that I questioned my own manhood for a second. So epic that I was awe stricken to the point of silence and paralysis, leaving me stunned for roughly 2 minutes watching a man with what I can only describe as glorified and well thought out pieces of "art" that were slashed into this hideous looking mans back by a retarded Stevie Wonder bastard child, or if he was the experiment of his tattoo artists new "technique"(hatchet man, barbed wires, some eight balls and snakes, I think one was an iguana? Idk) covering his back and ass. So many dicks. So many asses. I have to this day never seen anything like what I witnessed in that room.
Grabbing my mattress (Yes I took the fucking mattress. It was a tempurpedic, fuck you.) and my backpack full of clothes, I didn't even turn around to say goodbye as I hopped into my Chevy HHR and drove 8 hours West. Btw of you want a foolproof way of deterring any pussy that is within a 200 mile radius, drive that car. Never fails. People will think you're a rapist.
*Interlude* That's a whole lot of nonsense above this message, and I apologize for that. Maybe that's all useless information, but I don't care. I haven't had anyone to talk to or a platform to speak on in my life. Let me finish. You don't have to. Or you can. Idgaf whatever man.
Here's where the title will start to make a little bit more sense.
So, I am completely devastated at the events that took place on the cum soaked mattress that I lay on in the middle of my new house. I cry myself to sleep from time to time, get a good job, and start over. I do the same thing every day. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. I made a shorter post earlier this month with some detail on that, check it out or don't. I start working crazy shifts, and the isolation sets in after a while. I have made ZERO friends outside of my employees that I hired which don't count. Fuck those guys. I cant meet women because I lost my sense of identity. I lost my manhood. I felt so empty and worthless. I'm a scared little bitch and I got fat from depression. I contemplated suicide often. At work. At home. When I'm watching porn. At the grocery store. etc.
Transition to one night on a bus ride back from a bar. Dude man sitting across from me starts snorting white shit off what appears to be a reading glass case, looks up to me staring at him and says "You wanna hit some?"
I did not hesitate to snort that mystery powder on that mans dirty and smelly glasses case for a single second. I just got up, sat next to him, took a big sniff off a probably 2 inch line, and I was back to where I belonged. It was like Jesus descending from the heavens to hand me a big ole sledgehammer while softly saying "Now let's fucking destroy some shit" I had been skull fucked by satan and simultaneously being getting a blowjob by angels, one of which tried to slip a pinkie in my ass. It was magnificent and I had missed this drug so bad for 10 years.
I immediately said "I've got money, can you get more" he was my connect up until about a month ago when he went full POS mode on me. Now I'm down my one and only plug.
Anyways, I started smoking ice everyday. My performance at work improved. So much so my bosses boss recognized my work and exceeding sales. Fuck yeah. Don't stop me now. A few months later, I met my now wife. We hit it off, and she's an easy 12/10. WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE, and she's a fucking doctor. But i am confident on ice. I am a badass. I look better now that I've lost all that depression fat. Im superman. We have been together for years, all the while I have done Ice every single day. haven't missed a day in almost 5 years now. No one and I mean NO ONE is none the wiser of my habits. I have found a way to make it seamless and fluent with me and my day to day actions, i would probably be pretty sus if I wasn't on the stuff.. That would be my downfall and giveaway; if I run out. For the past 5 years though I've been smooth sailing. I'm back in school getting my degree. Then I can start working again and we can really rake in the dough and start accumulating more savings for real estate investments and expanding our (mostly her) portfolios. I still have perfect teeth, and my skin is still in good condition given the treatments I do every single night before bed. I'm told that I am really attractive (I don't think so AT ALL, but that's not what I'm getting at here) so that even continues to lessen anyones suspicions of unusual behavior or activity. But life has not restricted me from using. For example: We be sitting in a super fancy restaurant in downtown and I'll get up to take a toke outside with the cigarette smokers. No one notices. She doesnt know I smoke, but I just say I'm getting something from the car real fast. I dont over do it, I just sustain a state of productivity with my tokes (some nights I will smoke a whole bowl or two in a session, but thats for different reasons)
My point is: Meth has gotten me into shape, helped me gain the confidence to find the woman of my dreams that I had the honor of marrying and now share an amazing life with, and given me the drive and courage to quit my dead end job and go back to school to get a degree (i'm only a few semesters away from my bachelors) It has given me my life back, and with one hell of a bonus boost. I love it.
Now look, I'm not stupid. When i say stupid, I mean I'm not uneducated or unintelligent. I know that one day this I will have to get off this ride and come back to reality. I cant keep this up forever because one or more things could come to fruition.
1) Jail - The main reason i am glad to be a loner with this stuff is because I can rely on myself. I don't have to worry about some tweaker dipshit giving away my position and sharing a cell with him. I'm professional, so I don't draw attention. No criminal record. No nothing. I look innocent as fuck.
2) Wife divorces me - This could also be combined with option number 1. She would not tolerate this in the slightest. No therapy. No second chances. I'd be kicked to the curb.
3) Death - I get some bad stuff, piss off the wrong person, or just flat out lose my mind and end it all. I dont go into psychosis anymore so this is the least probable. I sleep every night and eat 3 square meals a day.
I love Ice, but it's caveat is what will ultimately be my downfall. It's not a sustainable substance to take every day, and I will eventually need to descend from my palace in the clouds and live amongst mortals once more.
Until then, I'm doing what I can to make sure I graduate, and take care of my wife and making sure she's happy.. Everything else is a sidequest.
Like i said, I have no reason to really be saying all this. I haven't bothered to read it, so i am willing to bet it's a wild fuck of a mess. Sorry. I just needed to clear my head for once in over 35 years. No one has been able to listen to what I have to say, and believe it or not I do feel better at least venting out the mess in my head.
Okay. Wifes asleep. Gonna go toke a bowl. Take care friends.
