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Fuck. I have nothing going on except mundane meet ups with friends, shitty drugs, and a meeting w/ a job placement agency on the 24th.
now once I have a job and income.... you will see
now once I have a job and income.... you will see
I've struggled with drugs/alcohol as many as the rest of us addicts. It's like we don't have that cut off point in our brain to know when to stop. Well either way addict or not, I refuse to live a boring life watching American Idol raising 2 shit kids and working a miserable job - all for what? Material possessiveness that we just worked all that money for. I guess the technological advances are nice though. I am too cynical of the world when not high.
The way i see it is that we should all be working towards a self-sustainable life for the future; cause without the future, what was the point?
I know these men on top want money when they are younger and power as they age (quote from Phil. Prof)l. How is a younger generation supposed to break through the current hierarchy? We contact the salvia, dmt and ibogaine entities and get them on our side not for lame healing of sick and wounded but for social equality and political justice. Obviously this idea is sill but i go back to work at a call centre from home and it's obviously tiresome dealing with confused old people or better yet sell them something they don't need.
So this time i'm on a low dose of phenazepam and decent doses of ethylphenidate with the odd trip thrown in for good measure. This is enough to keep me going for now but how long till it blows to shit again? Hopefully never
A much more cheery phenazahorse than I was 2 months ago barely being able to stand sitting i was so irritated. So i'm going to wean off the ppam cause god it makes me stupid and forgetful and get on ritalin/adderall/dexedrine hopefully. Is it not possible that my anxiety comes from the fact i grew up in a chaotic household and had to manage with compulsive tendencies.
The way i see it is that we should all be working towards a self-sustainable life for the future; cause without the future, what was the point?
I know these men on top want money when they are younger and power as they age (quote from Phil. Prof)l. How is a younger generation supposed to break through the current hierarchy? We contact the salvia, dmt and ibogaine entities and get them on our side not for lame healing of sick and wounded but for social equality and political justice. Obviously this idea is sill but i go back to work at a call centre from home and it's obviously tiresome dealing with confused old people or better yet sell them something they don't need.
So this time i'm on a low dose of phenazepam and decent doses of ethylphenidate with the odd trip thrown in for good measure. This is enough to keep me going for now but how long till it blows to shit again? Hopefully never
A much more cheery phenazahorse than I was 2 months ago barely being able to stand sitting i was so irritated. So i'm going to wean off the ppam cause god it makes me stupid and forgetful and get on ritalin/adderall/dexedrine hopefully. Is it not possible that my anxiety comes from the fact i grew up in a chaotic household and had to manage with compulsive tendencies.
en Prison m'en suis allé
I'm gone de chez moi
je suis sorti de chez moi now
in Jail I am now -
Fail
in the cold dans le grand froid
pris ma rangée within Dark Hell
ne soyez pas si judgementaux
for Bitterness is partagée
au very trou me suis trouvé
ce simple hole this Very Shit
sombre Inferno
was my ticket to this Merdier
my neverending closed Spirit
and in this very hole I'll know
my wrong pleasures - those false sorrows
of the cold month of février
- never let down - never bestows
I'm gone de chez moi
je suis sorti de chez moi now
in Jail I am now -
Fail
in the cold dans le grand froid
pris ma rangée within Dark Hell
ne soyez pas si judgementaux
for Bitterness is partagée
au very trou me suis trouvé
ce simple hole this Very Shit
sombre Inferno
was my ticket to this Merdier
my neverending closed Spirit
and in this very hole I'll know
my wrong pleasures - those false sorrows
of the cold month of février
- never let down - never bestows
The idea of 12 Steps to recovery and sobriety all started in 1939 in the first edition of Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of One Hundred Men and How They Have Recovered From Alcoholism(wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve-step_program). Since that time period it has became a staple as a tool for use in recovery and led to the creation of NA(Narcotics Anonymous). NA is the second biggest recovery group,with AA being the first of course(wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve-step_program). The great thing about the 12 Step approach of AA/NA is that you are not going through your journey completely alone because you will likely be able to find a group in your town or the towns around you going on during everyday of the week.
Now let me introduce the first four steps of AA/NA's program and explain the concepts behind them and their relation to addiction. The first four steps are all about one idea, greed. However, do not think of greed in its typical negative connotation but in a positive one where you are greedy about getting your recovery and taking those first steps. In your drug addiction you were greedy but in a way that was harmful and destructive to you physically, mentally, and spiritually. Recovery is about changing everything about yourself and to do so you must pour as much greed and make your recovery every bit as much about yourself as you made everything about yourself during your addiction. This is the mindset needed approaching the first four steps, THIS IS YOUR RECOVERY AND THESE STEPS ARE SPECIFICALLY MEANT FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL TO FOCUS ON THEMSELVES!
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol/drugs - that our lives had become unmanageable. This first part of this step is usually the easiest to admit/do for most people (but not saying by any means that any part of recovery is easy). However, it is getting past this first part where the challenge really begins. Anyone is capable of admitting the sense of powerlessness that comes with being consumed and eaten by alcohol/drugs. It takes something more than just admittance though to realize our lives had become unmanageable, it takes swallowing a good bit of pride.Which can be very hard to do for some people because they do not wish to face the fact that they had no control of their lives during their day to day activities, but in fact that the drugs were running the management position of every aspect of your thoughts, actions, and emotions.
Now let me introduce the first four steps of AA/NA's program and explain the concepts behind them and their relation to addiction. The first four steps are all about one idea, greed. However, do not think of greed in its typical negative connotation but in a positive one where you are greedy about getting your recovery and taking those first steps. In your drug addiction you were greedy but in a way that was harmful and destructive to you physically, mentally, and spiritually. Recovery is about changing everything about yourself and to do so you must pour as much greed and make your recovery every bit as much about yourself as you made everything about yourself during your addiction. This is the mindset needed approaching the first four steps, THIS IS YOUR RECOVERY AND THESE STEPS ARE SPECIFICALLY MEANT FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL TO FOCUS ON THEMSELVES!
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol/drugs - that our lives had become unmanageable. This first part of this step is usually the easiest to admit/do for most people (but not saying by any means that any part of recovery is easy). However, it is getting past this first part where the challenge really begins. Anyone is capable of admitting the sense of powerlessness that comes with being consumed and eaten by alcohol/drugs. It takes something more than just admittance though to realize our lives had become unmanageable, it takes swallowing a good bit of pride.Which can be very hard to do for some people because they do not wish to face the fact that they had no control of their lives during their day to day activities, but in fact that the drugs were running the management position of every aspect of your thoughts, actions, and emotions.
Ok, so in 2008 I decided to take the time to vote and express my political opinion. Well, I voted for Obama because honestly, McCain seemed like Bush made over with his ideas and goals for our country. Obama to me was the lesser of two evils and I agreed more with his ideas and goals than I did McCain's. It is rather sad though that we even have to consider the notion of which candidate is the lesser of two evils. So when Obama won in 2008, I was glad that the politicscum of my choosing had won. In 2012 I did not vote, but would have voted again for Obama as I disagreed even more with Mitt Romney and his views than I did with John McCain.
However, now I am beginning to question my decision of even helping Obama get into the White house those first four years with my vote. It just seems kind of scary some of the things that he is doing now, mainly with homeland security and the drone program. Obama can pretty much assassinate any individual he chooses to,including Americans that Obama says might have defected to terrorist groups. Another scary part of this, he can do it all with little or no congressional oversight, and almost complete secrecy between Obama and the CIA who carry out the drone attacks. What might be the scariest part of this whole scenario though is that the man Obama has nominated to head the CIA, John Brennan, has been working with the drone program since its start and is still deeply involved in running it. If he does get appointed to head the CIA then it will likely give the drone program even less transparency, when it should obviously be a more transparent program. This will give Obama even more power to carry out drone missions at his own discretion.
Now on this next point, someone please correct me if I am wrong. When our founding fathers first claimed independence and drafted the first copy of the Constitution their intent was not to allow one governing party nearly full and complete of the government. Their intent was to place hope in the dualism of human nature that separate competing parties would form thus allowing a bi-partisan government. They also were sure to place other checks and balances on the different branches of governments to further ensure that a single party wouldn't have complete control, much less a single person. After all, the founding fathers hoped that our dualism and general differences would keep us away from the one thing that seperate parties could agree upon as Americans, and that is that one person should not be in control and rule a nation. With this in mind, consider what power Obama already has and how much more power he will get if “Democrats” take further control.
Let me clarify at this point though, I am not saying that I oppose the Democrats and the ideas that they stand for, quite the contrary, I actually agree with their philosophy more so than the Republicans. The thing about it is though that Obama is only pursuing just enough of the Democrats ideas to appease them while in reality he is trying to further his own seperate agenda. In past times, the President, though he had power, was more symbolic than anything because he was able to be over ruled by Congress. In present times though, that symbolism seems to be shifting, creating a congress that is symbolic of an idea (Democracy) but the true power is in the hands of the President. Obama doesn't even really need a complete majority of Democrats in the House or Senate to further his goals. All he needs is a few more Supreme Court Judges who are “Democrats”(more like Obama pawns in the case of our Nations high court), the Pentagon, and the CIA to get what he wants done.I am fine with Democrats, but my point here is that many “Democrats” (or even those that lean more Republican for that matter) that are appointed by Obama show no alligance to their labeled party, but pledge their full faith to Obama.
In conclusion, it is beginning to look more and more as if Obama is trying to take away the power and system that is Democracy and replace it with a Socialist Tyranny that will result not in a holocaust of a single race, but a holocaust of an entire nation. I pray that I am wrong and that my hands are clean because if I am not wrong, this would be to great of a sin to be able to wash my hands of the deed. I would forever have to live with the fact that I helped vote in the person who would end America and reignite the spirits of Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and Osama Bin Laden all in one.
Pariahprose
However, now I am beginning to question my decision of even helping Obama get into the White house those first four years with my vote. It just seems kind of scary some of the things that he is doing now, mainly with homeland security and the drone program. Obama can pretty much assassinate any individual he chooses to,including Americans that Obama says might have defected to terrorist groups. Another scary part of this, he can do it all with little or no congressional oversight, and almost complete secrecy between Obama and the CIA who carry out the drone attacks. What might be the scariest part of this whole scenario though is that the man Obama has nominated to head the CIA, John Brennan, has been working with the drone program since its start and is still deeply involved in running it. If he does get appointed to head the CIA then it will likely give the drone program even less transparency, when it should obviously be a more transparent program. This will give Obama even more power to carry out drone missions at his own discretion.
Now on this next point, someone please correct me if I am wrong. When our founding fathers first claimed independence and drafted the first copy of the Constitution their intent was not to allow one governing party nearly full and complete of the government. Their intent was to place hope in the dualism of human nature that separate competing parties would form thus allowing a bi-partisan government. They also were sure to place other checks and balances on the different branches of governments to further ensure that a single party wouldn't have complete control, much less a single person. After all, the founding fathers hoped that our dualism and general differences would keep us away from the one thing that seperate parties could agree upon as Americans, and that is that one person should not be in control and rule a nation. With this in mind, consider what power Obama already has and how much more power he will get if “Democrats” take further control.
Let me clarify at this point though, I am not saying that I oppose the Democrats and the ideas that they stand for, quite the contrary, I actually agree with their philosophy more so than the Republicans. The thing about it is though that Obama is only pursuing just enough of the Democrats ideas to appease them while in reality he is trying to further his own seperate agenda. In past times, the President, though he had power, was more symbolic than anything because he was able to be over ruled by Congress. In present times though, that symbolism seems to be shifting, creating a congress that is symbolic of an idea (Democracy) but the true power is in the hands of the President. Obama doesn't even really need a complete majority of Democrats in the House or Senate to further his goals. All he needs is a few more Supreme Court Judges who are “Democrats”(more like Obama pawns in the case of our Nations high court), the Pentagon, and the CIA to get what he wants done.I am fine with Democrats, but my point here is that many “Democrats” (or even those that lean more Republican for that matter) that are appointed by Obama show no alligance to their labeled party, but pledge their full faith to Obama.
In conclusion, it is beginning to look more and more as if Obama is trying to take away the power and system that is Democracy and replace it with a Socialist Tyranny that will result not in a holocaust of a single race, but a holocaust of an entire nation. I pray that I am wrong and that my hands are clean because if I am not wrong, this would be to great of a sin to be able to wash my hands of the deed. I would forever have to live with the fact that I helped vote in the person who would end America and reignite the spirits of Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and Osama Bin Laden all in one.
Pariahprose
I know midget is no longer considered politically correct, but the title of "If I Had A Pet Little Person" just doesn't have that same kick to it (and I might feel guilty kicking a field goal with a "little person" but calling them a midget instead= guilt free field goals all day!). But if you have read this far,you can already tell this blog is not meant 2 b politically correct bc if it was, I wouldnt b as aroused as I am typing it.
ANYWAY!!!
If I had a pet midget I would have both a male and female named Ad and Ev,short for Adam and Eve ^.^ I wud keep them n my closet and let them free at my leisure(at least once a wk where Ev can go up on me while Ad sodomizes me from a stool). So what activites do I consider leisurely with midgets(besides picking one up,having my way with them,and just throwing them to the side like a used condom at Charlie Sheens house,if he even uses them)? Bowling with midgets entertains me,I let them wear a helmet during this though,makes for a harder impact. It also makes me laugh when Ad runs and the grass tickles his nuts ^.^ And this is just a typical week! LMFAO
You know what though,Im gonna b fucked when a midget reads this and gets their midget friends together and forms a gang 2 come and kick/ possibly fuck my ass...What am I going 2 tell ppl when Im walking like a constipated penguin,with two black eyes, and bite marks on my shins? I mean,would you tell ppl u got ur ass kicked and then sodomized by a gang of midgets....???
After thinking on that question for a minute I came to the conclusion I would tell everyone who asked. My logic: I tell them that I got beat up and lost my anal virginity 2 a group of midgets,they laugh, I then proceed to tell the gang of midgets, and eat popcorn (and possibly masturbate) while they beat up and have their way with them ^.^
Pariahprose
ANYWAY!!!
If I had a pet midget I would have both a male and female named Ad and Ev,short for Adam and Eve ^.^ I wud keep them n my closet and let them free at my leisure(at least once a wk where Ev can go up on me while Ad sodomizes me from a stool). So what activites do I consider leisurely with midgets(besides picking one up,having my way with them,and just throwing them to the side like a used condom at Charlie Sheens house,if he even uses them)? Bowling with midgets entertains me,I let them wear a helmet during this though,makes for a harder impact. It also makes me laugh when Ad runs and the grass tickles his nuts ^.^ And this is just a typical week! LMFAO
You know what though,Im gonna b fucked when a midget reads this and gets their midget friends together and forms a gang 2 come and kick/ possibly fuck my ass...What am I going 2 tell ppl when Im walking like a constipated penguin,with two black eyes, and bite marks on my shins? I mean,would you tell ppl u got ur ass kicked and then sodomized by a gang of midgets....???
After thinking on that question for a minute I came to the conclusion I would tell everyone who asked. My logic: I tell them that I got beat up and lost my anal virginity 2 a group of midgets,they laugh, I then proceed to tell the gang of midgets, and eat popcorn (and possibly masturbate) while they beat up and have their way with them ^.^
Pariahprose
It's 3am and insomnia has me in its hold once again.
I have to leave for work in an hour but I can't find the energy to prepare my shit. I'll end up throwing on my uniform and leaving 5 minutes late again. I just can't be bothered.
I'm one week out from my quarter century. It's amazing I'm still here, I never wanted to survive. I regret each and every day that passes by for the simple fact that I'm alive. I could never top myself though, not deliberately. Too much thought goes into it and the entire thing become much, much more complicated than just trudging through another day and living on.
I just don't fit in anywhere. I have friends, support groups and family, but no matter what, I'm always on the outside, looking in. I'm that one jigsaw piece that doesn't fit anywhere, hell, I don't even have the same picture printed on me.
My story, like many others, starts when I was born. 4:15am, 22nd February 1988. Two whole minutes after my twin sister was delivered stillborn. My mother didn't even know she was carrying twins. All through the pregnancy she was told to expect a daughter. I was just there, after the most horrific experience of my mothers life. I was her reminder of the pain, her stigmata.
My upbringing was fairly normal, growing up with 2 older brothers and an older sister, living just above the poverty line, with no father. Because of my mothers decision to have her tubes tied after 3 kids, and subsequently untied, my siblings were all 2 years apart in age, whereas I was 6 years younger than my youngest brother. I started out life being secluded. I was the young brother no one wanted to play with. Too young to do what they wanted. I was too young for their hand-me-downs so my mother put effort into getting me top of the line things when she could.
Once I was well into primary school I still had trouble fitting in with the other kids. I had 'friends' but I didn't spend much time with them. I became extremely interested in technology and electronics and would spend 95% of my spare time alone with various things pulled apart to see how they worked. At 12 I got my first computer and was hooked on the physical aspect of them. How could all this wire and plastic make images on a screen? I had to know. By 15 I was building PC's and selling them to make extra money. I was still awkward in high school, having 'friends' and trying to fit in, but I was still the odd one out. I could never figure out exactly what it was. It wasn't until I started dating that I started to work it out.
If asked to define my gender, I'd only say male because, well, I was born that way. In my mind though, I'm genderless. It took 5 years of doctors visits and counseling to be told that what I was experiencing was a documented mental illness. Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Now I had answers for why I hated myself so much, why I'd look at my body in the mirror and want to take to it with a razor. My main issue is my genitals, I don't want them. If they weren't there I could be what I want, completely androgynous and genderless. I was sent off to support group after support group but once again, didn't fit in with them. They had the same illness as me, but their cases weren't as severe as mine. I managed to become acquainted with a guy who's case was similar to mine. Where I despised my genitals and saw them as 'alien', he saw his left leg as 'alien'. It simply wasn't his and he wanted it gone. We bonded for a few short weeks and supported each other when we felt like doing something stupid. One day I went to the support group and asked why he hadn't come in for the last few sessions, I was told that he had taken a chainsaw to his leg and was now a ward of the state and permanently locked away. Just like that my support was gone.
I launched into depression, drinking my life away, passing from one relationship to the next in quick succession. Constantly moving, changing jobs. Eventually I came up with a plan. I decided to look into the surgery to be nullified. I found a surgeon that was willing to do the procedure, however, he would not do it before I was 25. I was 19 at the time so this would have given me plenty of time to think it over and decide whether I really wanted to go through with it. I left his office feeling better because I knew I had an option. I became heavily involved in the body modification scene and met with a doctor who specialized in 'alternative' surgeries. We talked for a couple of months and I opened up about my dysmorphia and the surgery I wanted. He was interested but could not perform it himself. He told me that he could perform other surgeries that would effectively turn me into a living Ken doll. This included nipple removal, ear removal and the removal and sewing up of my navel. I was intrigued and booked in to go through the specifics with him. After sitting down and taking about the recovery, dangers and restrictions of the surgery I decided to take him up on the offer. We hashed out a timeline and he booked me in for my first time under the knife, which was to take place in 6 months.
During that 6 months I fell in love with a woman and became engaged. I had not hidden my dysmorphia or the fact that I was about to undergo the first of many surgeries that would change my appearance. I thought she understood, or would at least voice any concerns to me. However, a month before I was due for surgery I got a call from the doctor saying he'd been contacted by my fiance saying not to perform the operation or he'd face legal action. I was stunned. Someone I thought was finally able to love me with all my issues had essentially stabbed me in the back. I lost my shit and ended up single and homeless. Falling back into depression I was offered a free plane ticket and a house in another state I decided it was time I moved and try to start anew.
I spent the first 8 months after moving in my house. Never leaving and only seeing my housemate. I got out of my depression and started working and socializing with my housemates friends because I knew no one. I was introduced to a guy who ended up becoming somewhat infatuated with me. He kept asking me out but I had not ever thought that I was gay. I was gender blind essentially, everyone, male or female, was attractive to me. I had just never given thought to dating a man before. In the end I said yes to a relationship with him after sitting him down and explaining my dysmorphia and making sure he understood that I was going to have the surgery as soon as I could. It turned out that he was born with a gender issue as well, however he was the complete opposite end of the spectrum. He was born with both genitalia and basically wanted what I had. He couldn't understand why I wanted it gone, but he supported me anyway. The relationship lasted a year and a half. In the end I left him because he had become manipulative and mentally abusive. I moved back to my hometown a month later.
The depression hit again and I went through another period of homelessness. Eventually I found a place to live, got my current job and started getting my life on track. I still rarely leave the house other than for work. I have a handful of friends that I can still hang out with after ditching them all and leaving for 4 years without a word. I have others I'd like to hang out with again, but things never seem to work out.
Now I'm here, one week out from being 25. The age where I can finally go for my surgery if I still want to. I'm not in a place in my life where I can comfortably go through with it anymore. I'd need 6 months off work, which I'll never get. I'd need support throughout all that time because I'll be bedridden. It's just not feasible. And because of that, I'm in a depressive spiral again.
It'd be so much easier if I just weren't alive, but even death is too complicated for me.
Fuck, now I'm late for work -_-'
Ignore these sleep deprived ramblings of a drunkard who is avoiding going to work. This all just needed to come out.
I have to leave for work in an hour but I can't find the energy to prepare my shit. I'll end up throwing on my uniform and leaving 5 minutes late again. I just can't be bothered.
I'm one week out from my quarter century. It's amazing I'm still here, I never wanted to survive. I regret each and every day that passes by for the simple fact that I'm alive. I could never top myself though, not deliberately. Too much thought goes into it and the entire thing become much, much more complicated than just trudging through another day and living on.
I just don't fit in anywhere. I have friends, support groups and family, but no matter what, I'm always on the outside, looking in. I'm that one jigsaw piece that doesn't fit anywhere, hell, I don't even have the same picture printed on me.
My story, like many others, starts when I was born. 4:15am, 22nd February 1988. Two whole minutes after my twin sister was delivered stillborn. My mother didn't even know she was carrying twins. All through the pregnancy she was told to expect a daughter. I was just there, after the most horrific experience of my mothers life. I was her reminder of the pain, her stigmata.
My upbringing was fairly normal, growing up with 2 older brothers and an older sister, living just above the poverty line, with no father. Because of my mothers decision to have her tubes tied after 3 kids, and subsequently untied, my siblings were all 2 years apart in age, whereas I was 6 years younger than my youngest brother. I started out life being secluded. I was the young brother no one wanted to play with. Too young to do what they wanted. I was too young for their hand-me-downs so my mother put effort into getting me top of the line things when she could.
Once I was well into primary school I still had trouble fitting in with the other kids. I had 'friends' but I didn't spend much time with them. I became extremely interested in technology and electronics and would spend 95% of my spare time alone with various things pulled apart to see how they worked. At 12 I got my first computer and was hooked on the physical aspect of them. How could all this wire and plastic make images on a screen? I had to know. By 15 I was building PC's and selling them to make extra money. I was still awkward in high school, having 'friends' and trying to fit in, but I was still the odd one out. I could never figure out exactly what it was. It wasn't until I started dating that I started to work it out.
If asked to define my gender, I'd only say male because, well, I was born that way. In my mind though, I'm genderless. It took 5 years of doctors visits and counseling to be told that what I was experiencing was a documented mental illness. Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Now I had answers for why I hated myself so much, why I'd look at my body in the mirror and want to take to it with a razor. My main issue is my genitals, I don't want them. If they weren't there I could be what I want, completely androgynous and genderless. I was sent off to support group after support group but once again, didn't fit in with them. They had the same illness as me, but their cases weren't as severe as mine. I managed to become acquainted with a guy who's case was similar to mine. Where I despised my genitals and saw them as 'alien', he saw his left leg as 'alien'. It simply wasn't his and he wanted it gone. We bonded for a few short weeks and supported each other when we felt like doing something stupid. One day I went to the support group and asked why he hadn't come in for the last few sessions, I was told that he had taken a chainsaw to his leg and was now a ward of the state and permanently locked away. Just like that my support was gone.
I launched into depression, drinking my life away, passing from one relationship to the next in quick succession. Constantly moving, changing jobs. Eventually I came up with a plan. I decided to look into the surgery to be nullified. I found a surgeon that was willing to do the procedure, however, he would not do it before I was 25. I was 19 at the time so this would have given me plenty of time to think it over and decide whether I really wanted to go through with it. I left his office feeling better because I knew I had an option. I became heavily involved in the body modification scene and met with a doctor who specialized in 'alternative' surgeries. We talked for a couple of months and I opened up about my dysmorphia and the surgery I wanted. He was interested but could not perform it himself. He told me that he could perform other surgeries that would effectively turn me into a living Ken doll. This included nipple removal, ear removal and the removal and sewing up of my navel. I was intrigued and booked in to go through the specifics with him. After sitting down and taking about the recovery, dangers and restrictions of the surgery I decided to take him up on the offer. We hashed out a timeline and he booked me in for my first time under the knife, which was to take place in 6 months.
During that 6 months I fell in love with a woman and became engaged. I had not hidden my dysmorphia or the fact that I was about to undergo the first of many surgeries that would change my appearance. I thought she understood, or would at least voice any concerns to me. However, a month before I was due for surgery I got a call from the doctor saying he'd been contacted by my fiance saying not to perform the operation or he'd face legal action. I was stunned. Someone I thought was finally able to love me with all my issues had essentially stabbed me in the back. I lost my shit and ended up single and homeless. Falling back into depression I was offered a free plane ticket and a house in another state I decided it was time I moved and try to start anew.
I spent the first 8 months after moving in my house. Never leaving and only seeing my housemate. I got out of my depression and started working and socializing with my housemates friends because I knew no one. I was introduced to a guy who ended up becoming somewhat infatuated with me. He kept asking me out but I had not ever thought that I was gay. I was gender blind essentially, everyone, male or female, was attractive to me. I had just never given thought to dating a man before. In the end I said yes to a relationship with him after sitting him down and explaining my dysmorphia and making sure he understood that I was going to have the surgery as soon as I could. It turned out that he was born with a gender issue as well, however he was the complete opposite end of the spectrum. He was born with both genitalia and basically wanted what I had. He couldn't understand why I wanted it gone, but he supported me anyway. The relationship lasted a year and a half. In the end I left him because he had become manipulative and mentally abusive. I moved back to my hometown a month later.
The depression hit again and I went through another period of homelessness. Eventually I found a place to live, got my current job and started getting my life on track. I still rarely leave the house other than for work. I have a handful of friends that I can still hang out with after ditching them all and leaving for 4 years without a word. I have others I'd like to hang out with again, but things never seem to work out.
Now I'm here, one week out from being 25. The age where I can finally go for my surgery if I still want to. I'm not in a place in my life where I can comfortably go through with it anymore. I'd need 6 months off work, which I'll never get. I'd need support throughout all that time because I'll be bedridden. It's just not feasible. And because of that, I'm in a depressive spiral again.
It'd be so much easier if I just weren't alive, but even death is too complicated for me.
Fuck, now I'm late for work -_-'
Ignore these sleep deprived ramblings of a drunkard who is avoiding going to work. This all just needed to come out.
And yes I DID UTFSE so please DON'T even go there! What I found were stories/info from a couple of very experienced users that tried to explain their trips. I know the drug is a disassoiative which I guess is to say it takes you apart from or out of your body, so to speak. I even heard one dude (another hardcore type) say he does it daily, he loves to shoot it & when he does, he shoots up, goes all out, to the extent of apparently being completely unaware of the fact he is human, and feels no constraints of being confined to imprisonment of the flesh.
He said he just is & is like experiencing profound conscienceness, only without the limitations of the flesh-but most importantly without the imprisonment self imposed in mind. Anyone could have walked into his place, ripped him off, had wild orgies and charged admission, or worse, people having their ways with his body, only without him being aware of any of it. That's a bit too much for my taste, although I think I can appreciate why we as drug seekers would even want to entertain the thought of going off into some K hole. I am well aware of it being a bad idea to try that kind of drug alone, but sorry, I can't really trust anyone enough completely not to take advantage of what would of perhaps been a cool situation - alone.
I had mentioned to Erik, my male counterpart of myself I was curious to experience this K once, but there's none to be had around here, at least not among my peers in So Cali. He said he'd send some sometime, but I put it out of my mind, til 2 days ago, a Valentine card with a bag of fluffy white powder arrived. It's been years since I've had any sort of hallucinogenic experience, but things like K, DMT, or PCP, I've never tried. Alone, I can turn it into an inner spiritual guide of meditation of sorts--at least that was true with shrooms and acid, and the one time I tried X.
Erik didn't say a whole lot,though, just wrote simply it was good shit and that the 1st time for him had been kinda scary. That made me stop and think big time. Obviously, it's gonna have to be done at a flippin motel room so I don't have to worry about my flippin mommy dearest barging in and pulling the Queen Bee Biatch routine - especially not being aware or limited noticably under the influence. Aside from being a complete buzz killer and killing any spiritual communion/insight - is the possibility of getting in deep trouble, which I don't need.
It can be done up in a line I know, but it can also be IVed-albeit a shot of this in terms of amount would be ultra conservative, as in a very small dose. One guy told me years ago that when he shot K, he did trip right away, but that's as much detail/info as I got. I don't want to get yelled at to UTFSE by asking in the beginner's forum, because as I said, I tried that, but was hoping to gain insight relative to my first timer status. Also, not everyone understands no doubt the difficulty trying to obtain specific info on a lap top that was not flippin cooperating.
I don't expect I'll get much in the way of responses, but hell I thought it was worth a try. When I get finished fixing my usual brown than I'll update this blog as to what's been goin on as of Oct 2012. The short version: I blew up so to speak. The draining chronic fatigue, rediculous slave wages of $16K last year, combined with unrelenting financial demands, finally came to a head. I froze up, went into panic mode, couldn't drive, been on SDI since and reluctantly applying for SSI. This new doc I have thinks my liver is the cause of the chronic fatigue. I certainly wouldn't even dream of trying to get a liver transplant. For one thing, I'm anti surgery for myself and for another, I'm completely ok with letting a non drug user get one instead of me gettting one for obvious reasons. Anyway, back in a flash I think,
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He said he just is & is like experiencing profound conscienceness, only without the limitations of the flesh-but most importantly without the imprisonment self imposed in mind. Anyone could have walked into his place, ripped him off, had wild orgies and charged admission, or worse, people having their ways with his body, only without him being aware of any of it. That's a bit too much for my taste, although I think I can appreciate why we as drug seekers would even want to entertain the thought of going off into some K hole. I am well aware of it being a bad idea to try that kind of drug alone, but sorry, I can't really trust anyone enough completely not to take advantage of what would of perhaps been a cool situation - alone.
I had mentioned to Erik, my male counterpart of myself I was curious to experience this K once, but there's none to be had around here, at least not among my peers in So Cali. He said he'd send some sometime, but I put it out of my mind, til 2 days ago, a Valentine card with a bag of fluffy white powder arrived. It's been years since I've had any sort of hallucinogenic experience, but things like K, DMT, or PCP, I've never tried. Alone, I can turn it into an inner spiritual guide of meditation of sorts--at least that was true with shrooms and acid, and the one time I tried X.
Erik didn't say a whole lot,though, just wrote simply it was good shit and that the 1st time for him had been kinda scary. That made me stop and think big time. Obviously, it's gonna have to be done at a flippin motel room so I don't have to worry about my flippin mommy dearest barging in and pulling the Queen Bee Biatch routine - especially not being aware or limited noticably under the influence. Aside from being a complete buzz killer and killing any spiritual communion/insight - is the possibility of getting in deep trouble, which I don't need.
It can be done up in a line I know, but it can also be IVed-albeit a shot of this in terms of amount would be ultra conservative, as in a very small dose. One guy told me years ago that when he shot K, he did trip right away, but that's as much detail/info as I got. I don't want to get yelled at to UTFSE by asking in the beginner's forum, because as I said, I tried that, but was hoping to gain insight relative to my first timer status. Also, not everyone understands no doubt the difficulty trying to obtain specific info on a lap top that was not flippin cooperating.
I don't expect I'll get much in the way of responses, but hell I thought it was worth a try. When I get finished fixing my usual brown than I'll update this blog as to what's been goin on as of Oct 2012. The short version: I blew up so to speak. The draining chronic fatigue, rediculous slave wages of $16K last year, combined with unrelenting financial demands, finally came to a head. I froze up, went into panic mode, couldn't drive, been on SDI since and reluctantly applying for SSI. This new doc I have thinks my liver is the cause of the chronic fatigue. I certainly wouldn't even dream of trying to get a liver transplant. For one thing, I'm anti surgery for myself and for another, I'm completely ok with letting a non drug user get one instead of me gettting one for obvious reasons. Anyway, back in a flash I think,
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Yesterday was my birthday, I was feeling especially introspective. I decided to share a little of the thoughts that have been running through my head lately these days. As you probably have guessed by now, I have a drug habit. Specifically, I'm a Junky. Now people can debate over what that word means, and who is a Junky and who isn't. My boyfriend describes it as someone who literally can't think about anything besides their next fix of Heroin, dope, junk, smack, whatever you want to call it. How are they going to get it? Where is it coming from? How will you pay for it? How can I get it in me? Within the confines of those brackets, yeah I'm completely a Junky. Even when I'm knee deep in a job interview or at a family affair, in the back of my brain 100% of the time I am thinking about my next fix. I decided to see what some of the more common or reputable dictionaries had to say on the matter. Here are a couple of the samplings:
Dictionary.com -
For the word Junky:
1. Of the nature of junk; trashy
2. Drug addict, junkie, addict, freak, nut
For the word Junkie: (slightly different)
A drug addict, especially one addicted to heroin.
A person with an insatiable craving for something: a chocolate junkie.
An enthusiastic follower; fan; devotee: a baseball junkie
Okay - that was is a little more lenient. I am all of those things, I am a drug addict, I have an insatiable cravings, not only about drugs, but when I take to something, watch out. I'll use the year I raced (sailboats) 133 days in one year as an example. Or the fact that although it's a 10 hour round trip commute, I'll frequently jump in the car and get 40+ days a year in at Mammoth snowboarding. So you could officially call me an adrenalin Junky as well. Talk about obsession. Everyone knows a chocolate junkie, or a crafting Junky. But let's get a little more official.
The Oxford English Dictionary.
* A person with a compulsive habit or obsessive dependency on something: power junkies, a drug addict.
Ah the good 'ol OED. Like, the English, it's accuracy with diplomacy reigns supreme.
But sadly this definitive source of the English language will no sooner change any one's personal beliefs on what a Junky is than it will start injecting heroin on its own.
Urban Dictionary. This is where you go when you want to find the real State of the Union, since it's written For the People, By the People.. What does the critical mass consider a Junky?
*A heroin addict, one that is was and will always be. Before the crackheads and the crackwhores, Way before the dexheads and the E-tards wasting his life away, for pure bliss and contentment.
*Someone who dabbles with illicit drugs.
Ha! I've never met a single person who took the use of narcotics so lightly. But I like the way he's thinking!
I looked up one more reference for the word Junky. I searched for it under Google images. This is a sampling of what I found, amongst a variety of anorexic looking runway models.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydQXGV-oOog
**Side note: That coffee table was the first thing that came up, and it's actually mine, that I snapped a pic of and posted on another forum, lol. It struck me as just how amazing out of control somethings had gotten. Google was probably monitoring my IP address of something
**Now I don't know about you... But in all my 34 years I've never seen a Junky look anything remotely like those photographs. It's like a caricature of a Junky. Where did this concept come from? I'm not really sure. But the whole notion of anti-glamorization makes me nauseous. The naive and close minded judgement that if you choose to IV drugs you will:
A.) worthless to society.
B.) Most likely will whore yourself eventually and
C.) Will definitely die from it, soon.
Between this Google search and the Urban Dictionary, is appears the people have clearly voiced their opinions on heroin users. Lower than crackheads, lower than wife beaters, the lowest breed of society. And, without a doubt, it will cost you your life. I recently came across this quote while watching this documentary on the IV clinics in Canada:
"Of all society's outcast, few are more reviled then those who inject narcotics, even among other drug users"
For this reason I was a closet Junky for 10 years. I never had the same intolerance with opiates or addicts as my friends. So i used in the closet for 10 years. It wasn't until I started dating an-junky, that my whole world was unraveled. I was revealed for what I really was. An IV injecting, heroin using, full-time Junky. I sat with it for a while, had my boyfriend point out every Junky move I made, and acknowledged my all-encompassing thoughts and actions, I came to terms with it. But as I came clean (pardon the pun) to friends and relatives, I discovered just how deep the stigma ran. The black plaque of drug users.
IMHO, a junk habit is just that. It's not glamorous, it's not disgusting. It can have its draw backs. But, for me, it has some rewards. There are a lot of ex-junkies, people sober for weeks or for years, who say there are no real benefits, no true happiness comes from drugs of any sort. But I'm a drug user who has made the conscience decision to use drugs for the rest of my life, at least on some level (and reserve the right to change my mind). So at this point in time, I avoid the whole "complete sobriety is the only way to true happiness" argument. But I have witnessed in my own life, how they can make you unhappy.
My life has been no exception from the typical junky stereotype. I've lied, I've been fired, I've stolen, I've broken the hearts of those who meant the most to me. But I am working on fixing that. There are no directions on a ball of dope or a bag of tweak that give instructions on how to destroy or fix your life. Your only hope is to catch yourself one day and realize that you aren't different. Maybe you have a degree, maybe you make a few bucks, but in the end, we all have to deal with the same problems and face the ones we love.
My hope is that one day we can learn to control ourselves. To live upright and productive lives. This is my current challenge, minute by minute, hour by hour. But it's more than those around you that get hurt. Junk can have a crippling effect on the body. As everyone knows, sticking a spike in your arm filled with any drug multiple times a day can (READ: WILL) take it's toll on your body. I IV heroin 4x daily and meth 2x daily. Besides tolerance, which will be psychologically worse, the physical toll that will take, may be unreversable.
But man, I love to slam. I think I could give up junk before I gave up slamming. I think I've shot up three times while writing this. It's more than just the high from the drugs, but something psychosomatic. A sense of pride, or achievement. Something that says (I'm speaking for myself only here) "Not only do I have the skill to do this, I can deal with the pain, the misses, the bumps and bruising, the abscesses, the collapsed veins. On top of all that - I'm going to do it 6-7 times a day." But I can't IV right now. I tried for 3 hours for my last shot, even after the last resort (due to pride) and asking for help from my bf, it failed. Had to stick it up my arse. (no IM since it was mixed with meth). I almost never see that sweet red plume of blood rise in the syringe. My blood clots almost at the sharps touch and I get a clot and have to switch needles. I wonder to myself, why am I so in love with this process?? My thoughts on the matter turn into a complete dichotomy of justifications. But that thrill, that yearning, it's with me for life, and no other drug or RoA will ever do for me again. It may not be my wife, but it certainly is my lover and my life.
I IV every drug I take, and let's to be crystal clear here, I do (and always have done) A LOT of drugs. Besides some of the more obscure RC's, I've done just about all of them. And I'll IV just about all of them. Junk, meth, coke, mdma, LSD, pills... my next quest is DMT (in the processes of turning the base IVable at this moment). With all theses drugs, being shot into my arms, you can imagine the track marks and bruising that it leaves (not to mention the inevitable abscesses). My wardrobe is a daily concern. The stigma of IV drug use looms over my head like a rain cloud. The sideways glances, and concerned goodbye's get old. Even if they do have my best interests in mind. What people fail to acknowledge is that the act of shooting itself isn't harmful when done in moderation. There are those who can IV on a semi-regular basis, and keep their lives in control. Other drugs (like meth, cocaine, crack and IMO alcohol) can be far more dangerous. But the stigma of IV use will never change.
Everyone says I should change, I should quit. Not cut back, but abstain entirely from ALL drugs. But who would I be if I wasn't a Junky? That's my identity. It's who I am. Maybe I will want something different some day. But I've been on junk for over 10 years, and for now, I will keep my habit. And I will keep searching for my perfect incarnation of what a Junky should be. And hopefully one day, I'll strike the balance between social and personal contentment, and the recreational use of what some call "the hardest drug." 8)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=puvRWiV19cI
A collection of pictures showing me preparing and shooting Heroin.
So let me take you back a couple summers ago in this little city in the heart of Alabama. Now at this time in my life I was just starting to become a full blown dope fiend. But I was still wet behind the ears this was when I was first beggining to feel the desperation that all addicts know. No money sick nothing to pawn. I had also already decided that I would be taking my ass to rehab very soon to get my suboxone taper and be cured. Haha like I said I was green and young just starting to realize that I had opened pandoras box. Well the day started like most of them did at Darrells apartment with Josh trying to scheme up a way to get money for dope. We tryed for a couple hours but nothing was working. I dont remember who said "lets rob him" at first we laughed yeah right. But as time went on it took on a more seriose tone. The planning began now the way the deals went down was we would pull our cars together driver side to driver side facing opposite directions on this side street. So we decided to crumple up a couple ones and just floor it and get out of there once we made the transaction. Now I justified this by telling myself I was killing two birds with one stone I would lose my only connection thus cutting myself off so I would have no choice but to quit when I got out of rehab. So me Josh and Darrell jump in my car and head to rob this scary ass ex-con gang member.
I remember it was very hot that day which added to the misery of my sickness. I was nervous as hell but kept a cool external demenor. We exchanged witty banter in the car trying to forget about the dangerous situation we put ourselves in. but the closer we got to the spot the higher the tension rose. Finally I made the phone call to him and set it up just like we normally did. I pull up to his driver side window make a quick exchange and lay on the gas peddle. I damn near spun the car out but saved it and drove as fast as the car would go running stop signs and red lights in the process. Somehow I didnt hit anyone with this horribly irresponsible action.
The best part of the story is that I ended up getting a phone call from old dude a couple days later saying that he wasnt mad and that we could come back down whenever we had money. Of course my dumb addicted ass took him up on the offer and somehow didnt get murdered. Better to be lucky then good sometimes.
I remember it was very hot that day which added to the misery of my sickness. I was nervous as hell but kept a cool external demenor. We exchanged witty banter in the car trying to forget about the dangerous situation we put ourselves in. but the closer we got to the spot the higher the tension rose. Finally I made the phone call to him and set it up just like we normally did. I pull up to his driver side window make a quick exchange and lay on the gas peddle. I damn near spun the car out but saved it and drove as fast as the car would go running stop signs and red lights in the process. Somehow I didnt hit anyone with this horribly irresponsible action.
The best part of the story is that I ended up getting a phone call from old dude a couple days later saying that he wasnt mad and that we could come back down whenever we had money. Of course my dumb addicted ass took him up on the offer and somehow didnt get murdered. Better to be lucky then good sometimes.
A continuation...
A few days ago the physician in Germany emailed me telling me that he was finally able to locate a Volume 5 of the periodical that the article had supposedly been published in. Apparently, he told me, they were just late in posting it on their website and slow in responding to inquiries.
Naturally I had a look see. Indeed, "Genome, Biology and Evolution" DOES in fact have a Volume 5 and much to my chagrin, the article HAD in fact been published. I then contacted the publisher, Oxford Journals, and asked if the paper had been subject to peer review. The Science Editor informed me that to the best of his knowledge it had been since that particular publication claims to do so with all submissions. However, since he only dealt with the book side of Oxford I should contact the Editor at "Genome, Biology and Evolution."
When he gave me the Editor's name, an America professor at Dussueldorf, it was the same man who had been given Corresponding Copies on all my communications with the German physician. Apparently the physician had been fed the paper by the publication. This is common enough but if a Blogger, or media source, doesn't disclose this I find it a bit disheartening. I'm anal retentive about full disclosure.
I sent the Editor email asking whether or not the paper had been subjected to peer review and if so, could he disclose the level of scrutiny applied to it. In other words, what would disqualify a paper from publication in that journal. He informed me that yes, it was subject to peer review but that those reviewing it do so under anonymity (very common) and that other than a single individual neither he nor the publication had any idea who or what was involved in the peer review of that particular paper.
The individual he was referring to is an unpublished Israeli Jew active- like the author of the paper- in Anti-Zionist political causes and organisations. I contacted the man and asked very generalised questions about the criteria utilised in judging the paper sound and worthy of publication. Predictably he never responded to my inquiry. It is not difficult at all to manipulate the process when you do not engage in blind assignation of peers. You simply opt for academics with well established views that mesh with those of the author.
So, my intuition was indeed wrong. The paper was not a hoax. It was actually published albeit in a manner that lacks integrity and which will be shrugged off by most academics. The problem however isn't its reception and subsequent standing in academia. Rather, the problem is the unwashed masses that educate themselves via Youtube/Wikipedia. AFP, as I mentioned, ran with the stort and slowly but surely it is entering discourse as "proof" that most Jews are not Semitic and therefore not descendants of Judaeans thereby having no moral OR historical justification for "occupying" Arab land. Never mind that there are more than 320 papers offering the opposite conclusion and that virtually all of these are accepted by consensus as defining the situation. All that matters is that 1 paper was published claiming that most Jews are actually Turkic-Mongols. I have to go clean my yurt and water my pony, ciao.
A few days ago the physician in Germany emailed me telling me that he was finally able to locate a Volume 5 of the periodical that the article had supposedly been published in. Apparently, he told me, they were just late in posting it on their website and slow in responding to inquiries.
Naturally I had a look see. Indeed, "Genome, Biology and Evolution" DOES in fact have a Volume 5 and much to my chagrin, the article HAD in fact been published. I then contacted the publisher, Oxford Journals, and asked if the paper had been subject to peer review. The Science Editor informed me that to the best of his knowledge it had been since that particular publication claims to do so with all submissions. However, since he only dealt with the book side of Oxford I should contact the Editor at "Genome, Biology and Evolution."
When he gave me the Editor's name, an America professor at Dussueldorf, it was the same man who had been given Corresponding Copies on all my communications with the German physician. Apparently the physician had been fed the paper by the publication. This is common enough but if a Blogger, or media source, doesn't disclose this I find it a bit disheartening. I'm anal retentive about full disclosure.
I sent the Editor email asking whether or not the paper had been subjected to peer review and if so, could he disclose the level of scrutiny applied to it. In other words, what would disqualify a paper from publication in that journal. He informed me that yes, it was subject to peer review but that those reviewing it do so under anonymity (very common) and that other than a single individual neither he nor the publication had any idea who or what was involved in the peer review of that particular paper.
The individual he was referring to is an unpublished Israeli Jew active- like the author of the paper- in Anti-Zionist political causes and organisations. I contacted the man and asked very generalised questions about the criteria utilised in judging the paper sound and worthy of publication. Predictably he never responded to my inquiry. It is not difficult at all to manipulate the process when you do not engage in blind assignation of peers. You simply opt for academics with well established views that mesh with those of the author.
So, my intuition was indeed wrong. The paper was not a hoax. It was actually published albeit in a manner that lacks integrity and which will be shrugged off by most academics. The problem however isn't its reception and subsequent standing in academia. Rather, the problem is the unwashed masses that educate themselves via Youtube/Wikipedia. AFP, as I mentioned, ran with the stort and slowly but surely it is entering discourse as "proof" that most Jews are not Semitic and therefore not descendants of Judaeans thereby having no moral OR historical justification for "occupying" Arab land. Never mind that there are more than 320 papers offering the opposite conclusion and that virtually all of these are accepted by consensus as defining the situation. All that matters is that 1 paper was published claiming that most Jews are actually Turkic-Mongols. I have to go clean my yurt and water my pony, ciao.
couldnt have said it better myself
- http://confessionsofaheroinaddict.w...20/when-i-walked-to-work-in-love-with-london/
And I was struck with awe at the energy of millions of humans in ant-hive satisfaction going to work and the great machines that moved blocks creating more space and more wealth and the people rushing here and there and the theatres and the homeless and the suited and booted and the tourists clicking in orgasmic fascination and the constant din of industry filled the air
And I walked and walked until I was at my office door, door, great glass door, and an old East London man or African man peered at me unimpressed from behind his desk and security screens and I would avoid his gaze, the noise in my head to great to bare talking and baring the self, and the lift doors were clothes around me and my loins would ache for sex and the sinking feeling in my guts the boredom of rough office carpet, alienation, complete, I made a coffee and sat down to waste the day earning money.
- http://confessionsofaheroinaddict.w...20/when-i-walked-to-work-in-love-with-london/
after the good times come the bad
You were always a crazy psycho
can you believe that, being a crazy psycho
just imagine a moment this very moment
when your mother tells you she knows you are a psycho
and doesn't want you to enjoy pleasure ever again
I hope you feel suicidal,
because what happened was wrong
and just after that- wrong, so very much more wrong
because you continue to haunt me and cause more pain
I took no pleasure, only pain, liberation was escape
There was no master slave game, there were no rules
nothing to stop the "game" you were a torturer
You know nothing about intelligence, you are the loser,
it left me and settled in you and will remain there forever
You are the spawn of satan
no one should ever see, hear or touch you ever again
NO ONE
sick fucker, I wanted my stuff, and then I would have left, maybe after beating you to a pulp, fuck you debaser, you are nothing, you are the loser.
You were always a crazy psycho
can you believe that, being a crazy psycho
just imagine a moment this very moment
when your mother tells you she knows you are a psycho
and doesn't want you to enjoy pleasure ever again
I hope you feel suicidal,
because what happened was wrong
and just after that- wrong, so very much more wrong
because you continue to haunt me and cause more pain
I took no pleasure, only pain, liberation was escape
There was no master slave game, there were no rules
nothing to stop the "game" you were a torturer
You know nothing about intelligence, you are the loser,
it left me and settled in you and will remain there forever
You are the spawn of satan
no one should ever see, hear or touch you ever again
NO ONE
sick fucker, I wanted my stuff, and then I would have left, maybe after beating you to a pulp, fuck you debaser, you are nothing, you are the loser.
The music is calling.
So is the pain.
So are the pills.
They scream a morbid symphony,mapping out my destiny,confined within the space inside my skull...
So is the pain.
So are the pills.
They scream a morbid symphony,mapping out my destiny,confined within the space inside my skull...
http://imgur.com/YCZIM
Yep. That's an actual shard of meth we picked up recently.
6am, I've been lying in bed for hours hitting the pookie, smoking a little meth. Been dreading the morning, since it will be my first morning without H in Lord knows how long. I've made the commitment once again (but this time by my own free will and volition) to quit my sweet Brown Sugar for 12 days. (Maybe 14, we'll see how I feel by the end of the 12 days).
My SO is quitting for way longer, (like around a year) and I'm trying to be respectful. This was his last day for meth (his weak spot at the moment) so he wanted to do it till the last minute, which I would too. But now all I want is to feel that lustful sensation of a spike penetrating my veins, and that beautiful sight of a red plume bursting through the syringe filling any air pockets, and giving you the signal of quick relief and release.
Perfect shots, like you have a fresh arm, ripe for the slamming. And thank goodness I had two in a row, deposit a nasty meth miss and an abscess currently. Yesterday I spent three hours trying to find a place for one fix without any luck, and by that time I'd split my shot into two syringes because of the amount and thickness of blood, drained half a syringe of blood clots, and IMing was out of the question. *just FYI for those that don't know.... you can't IM a shot with too much blood in it. Your body doesn't know what to do with that much blood, and trust me the outcome isn't pretty. Last time for left upper arm was swollen and oh so painfully sore for what seemed like ages. But better than a lot of abscesses I've had.
Times like that, where I poke for hours and hours, wasting much of the day, ripping apart my arm/hands/legs/feet/neck/whatever, that I curse it, and wonder why I do such things. But then, barely 2 hours later, I'm thinking about prepping my next shot. And no matter how much I swore I wasn't going to IV, I'll IM this time - I swear! - whatcha know... before you can say Bob's Your Uncle, I'm swinging my arm to pump blood into it and tying off.
So... I'm facing the morning without heroin. Without IVing. Without my morning sex practically. That orgasmic sensation to check me inbox, make my calls, face my colleagues and generally get on with my day.
That's why I'm here, at 6:30 in the morning now, smoking meth. Meh, it's not doing much for me, but I knew it wouldn't. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, so what's the harm? I have my drug therapy appointment today at 1p. I haven't told her about my commitment yet. I know she'll be happy. I hope I can do it. You can always find junk outside the center (The Center for Harm Reduction, it's also the Needle Exchange). Hope I have the will power.
But for now, I'm still facing my first morning getting out of bed to a stark, cold reality. There aren't even any sharps in the house if I did find that magic nugget.
Now to see if I can get an hour of sleep in before the SO wakes up, so we can get up together, and drink mounds of coffee to start this sobriety thing.Wish me luck http://imgur.com/dCYEU
Yep. That's an actual shard of meth we picked up recently.
6am, I've been lying in bed for hours hitting the pookie, smoking a little meth. Been dreading the morning, since it will be my first morning without H in Lord knows how long. I've made the commitment once again (but this time by my own free will and volition) to quit my sweet Brown Sugar for 12 days. (Maybe 14, we'll see how I feel by the end of the 12 days).
My SO is quitting for way longer, (like around a year) and I'm trying to be respectful. This was his last day for meth (his weak spot at the moment) so he wanted to do it till the last minute, which I would too. But now all I want is to feel that lustful sensation of a spike penetrating my veins, and that beautiful sight of a red plume bursting through the syringe filling any air pockets, and giving you the signal of quick relief and release.
Perfect shots, like you have a fresh arm, ripe for the slamming. And thank goodness I had two in a row, deposit a nasty meth miss and an abscess currently. Yesterday I spent three hours trying to find a place for one fix without any luck, and by that time I'd split my shot into two syringes because of the amount and thickness of blood, drained half a syringe of blood clots, and IMing was out of the question. *just FYI for those that don't know.... you can't IM a shot with too much blood in it. Your body doesn't know what to do with that much blood, and trust me the outcome isn't pretty. Last time for left upper arm was swollen and oh so painfully sore for what seemed like ages. But better than a lot of abscesses I've had.
Times like that, where I poke for hours and hours, wasting much of the day, ripping apart my arm/hands/legs/feet/neck/whatever, that I curse it, and wonder why I do such things. But then, barely 2 hours later, I'm thinking about prepping my next shot. And no matter how much I swore I wasn't going to IV, I'll IM this time - I swear! - whatcha know... before you can say Bob's Your Uncle, I'm swinging my arm to pump blood into it and tying off.
So... I'm facing the morning without heroin. Without IVing. Without my morning sex practically. That orgasmic sensation to check me inbox, make my calls, face my colleagues and generally get on with my day.
That's why I'm here, at 6:30 in the morning now, smoking meth. Meh, it's not doing much for me, but I knew it wouldn't. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, so what's the harm? I have my drug therapy appointment today at 1p. I haven't told her about my commitment yet. I know she'll be happy. I hope I can do it. You can always find junk outside the center (The Center for Harm Reduction, it's also the Needle Exchange). Hope I have the will power.
But for now, I'm still facing my first morning getting out of bed to a stark, cold reality. There aren't even any sharps in the house if I did find that magic nugget.
Now to see if I can get an hour of sleep in before the SO wakes up, so we can get up together, and drink mounds of coffee to start this sobriety thing.Wish me luck
http://imgur.com/dCYEU
Anyone ever have that one dude in your group of friends that never knows when to stop getting tore up,usually on a variety of things at one time(in my group this was me,lol) and just ends up passing out hella early with their shoes on(idk why but we had a rule that if u fell asleep with your shoes on during a party you were free game to fuck with)?And the more and more of a buzz you get,the more entertaining the thought of fucking with his passed out ass becomes...This is where the fun begins ^.^ Here are some of my suggestions:
1. While you have your friend close by that is passed out it becomes the perfect opportunity 2 see if farting in their eye really does cause pink eye later on.However,that is only the warm up for when u saran wrap them to a tree outside naked! Imagine waking up from a long night of partying and being hungover,cold,and wrapped to a tree only to discover the reason you are cold is because you are naked...( I have actually been saran wrapped to a recliner,with clothes still on, at a friends house b4. They then proceeded to pick me up about 4 feet off the ground and then drop me.I didn't even budge,lots of klonopins and assorted pain pills that night)...
2. A classic way to fuck with your passed out friend.This one would probably actually be easiest while they are heavily buzzed. Go out and get another tattoo but pay the artist 2 make it something completely different,insulting, and preferably profane than what your friend wanted. This way they will have a memory that will last a lifetime of the consequences of doing something in excess. Even when covered up,they would still know that its there!Some ideas for some tats: Sperm Dumpster with arrow pointing down on lower back,Fort Knocked Loose:US Sperm Bank Main Deposit Vault with custom Sperm related money money appearing to fall from the words at their lower back into their ass hole.Also you cant go wrong with a good ole fashioned cock tattoo anywhere on their body,just have some kind of dick related quote above it. It is imperative to remember to place the penis tattoo in an area as visible as possible so that everyone will ask about it.
3. I took this one and made it my own.Take your passed out friend strip them down naked, shave their eyebrows, and put them in a dress. That has been done before though,so I thought of an addendum for this one ^.^ Once these things are done tie their hands and feet, load them in the vehicle(DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE THOUGH,MAKE SURE THE DRIVER IS SOBER!), and proceed to a fairly public place. Once there make sure it is clear enough and simply dump them at the front doors of the business ^.^
4. This one would be messed up to do. Take your friend and place them in a room by themselves and mess up things n the room and plant a used but broken condom in their visible sight 2 make it appear that they had an extremely wild night of sex. When they wake up to this they will already be like wtf? This is when the other friends tell him that some girls came over last night and that (insert name of local super slut) was one of the girls and that they had slept with them. Also tell them about the conversation that never happened that they had with the super slut earlier in the party when she confided n them that she was HIV positive but despite knowing this he still slept with her because they were "in love"...Of course let your overly zealous partying friend know b4 they do anything irrational that it was all made up but should hopefully now recognize some of the consequences of sex in an extremely inebriated state and how much more risk can be created by adding unsafe sex to a situation,especially considering that there is no cure for some STDs...
5. This one would take a good bit of prepping to get right. Take a room in your house that is closely connected with an exit (the kitchen and dining room would probably work nicely) and then paint it all chrome, every last bit as to not risk throwing off the joke. Make sure it is cold enough that your friends nipples feel like snow peas and have a table or counter somewhere in the room that is also as cold as possible. On this table have a series of strange but apparently surgical/ exploratory instruments. Take your friend while they are still passed out, place them on the table, shave every hair on their body, and grease them up with baby oil. The most important part of this whole "joke" is to be sure you are dressed up as an alien standing over them when they snap out of their stupor.If done correctly, your friend should think that they somehow managed to get abducted by an alien and anally probed. No moral to this one, just straight up mind fuck ^.^
A few notes about these five things to do to your FUBAR Friend, don't attempt any of them on your own, use the power in numbers that comes from your group of friends to assist in pulling off these embarrassing "jokes" (calling them jokes is almost too twistid,lol). At least this way your FUBAR friend will pretty much have no choice to either take the punishment or dish it back out one by one on the group if they ever happen to pass out. Any extra additions to these five would be appreciated and I am sure they would only add to the hilarity of the topic.
Pariahprose 2-15-13
1. While you have your friend close by that is passed out it becomes the perfect opportunity 2 see if farting in their eye really does cause pink eye later on.However,that is only the warm up for when u saran wrap them to a tree outside naked! Imagine waking up from a long night of partying and being hungover,cold,and wrapped to a tree only to discover the reason you are cold is because you are naked...( I have actually been saran wrapped to a recliner,with clothes still on, at a friends house b4. They then proceeded to pick me up about 4 feet off the ground and then drop me.I didn't even budge,lots of klonopins and assorted pain pills that night)...
2. A classic way to fuck with your passed out friend.This one would probably actually be easiest while they are heavily buzzed. Go out and get another tattoo but pay the artist 2 make it something completely different,insulting, and preferably profane than what your friend wanted. This way they will have a memory that will last a lifetime of the consequences of doing something in excess. Even when covered up,they would still know that its there!Some ideas for some tats: Sperm Dumpster with arrow pointing down on lower back,Fort Knocked Loose:US Sperm Bank Main Deposit Vault with custom Sperm related money money appearing to fall from the words at their lower back into their ass hole.Also you cant go wrong with a good ole fashioned cock tattoo anywhere on their body,just have some kind of dick related quote above it. It is imperative to remember to place the penis tattoo in an area as visible as possible so that everyone will ask about it.
3. I took this one and made it my own.Take your passed out friend strip them down naked, shave their eyebrows, and put them in a dress. That has been done before though,so I thought of an addendum for this one ^.^ Once these things are done tie their hands and feet, load them in the vehicle(DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE THOUGH,MAKE SURE THE DRIVER IS SOBER!), and proceed to a fairly public place. Once there make sure it is clear enough and simply dump them at the front doors of the business ^.^
4. This one would be messed up to do. Take your friend and place them in a room by themselves and mess up things n the room and plant a used but broken condom in their visible sight 2 make it appear that they had an extremely wild night of sex. When they wake up to this they will already be like wtf? This is when the other friends tell him that some girls came over last night and that (insert name of local super slut) was one of the girls and that they had slept with them. Also tell them about the conversation that never happened that they had with the super slut earlier in the party when she confided n them that she was HIV positive but despite knowing this he still slept with her because they were "in love"...Of course let your overly zealous partying friend know b4 they do anything irrational that it was all made up but should hopefully now recognize some of the consequences of sex in an extremely inebriated state and how much more risk can be created by adding unsafe sex to a situation,especially considering that there is no cure for some STDs...
5. This one would take a good bit of prepping to get right. Take a room in your house that is closely connected with an exit (the kitchen and dining room would probably work nicely) and then paint it all chrome, every last bit as to not risk throwing off the joke. Make sure it is cold enough that your friends nipples feel like snow peas and have a table or counter somewhere in the room that is also as cold as possible. On this table have a series of strange but apparently surgical/ exploratory instruments. Take your friend while they are still passed out, place them on the table, shave every hair on their body, and grease them up with baby oil. The most important part of this whole "joke" is to be sure you are dressed up as an alien standing over them when they snap out of their stupor.If done correctly, your friend should think that they somehow managed to get abducted by an alien and anally probed. No moral to this one, just straight up mind fuck ^.^
A few notes about these five things to do to your FUBAR Friend, don't attempt any of them on your own, use the power in numbers that comes from your group of friends to assist in pulling off these embarrassing "jokes" (calling them jokes is almost too twistid,lol). At least this way your FUBAR friend will pretty much have no choice to either take the punishment or dish it back out one by one on the group if they ever happen to pass out. Any extra additions to these five would be appreciated and I am sure they would only add to the hilarity of the topic.
Pariahprose 2-15-13
Haven't updated this in a while. Here's some more snippets of what I've been getting on with outside the doors of bluelight
This is going to be a blog with a general self psychoanalysis of the things that effected my life when they happened and that still are till this day.I know what some ppl are asking at this point: Whats the reason of such a revealing thing?Are you not afraid of ridicule? And of course,how boring is this really gonna be?.
First, the reason I am publicly making access to what some would call intimate information about myself is because I wish 2 show that I am comfortable with myself and my life.Second, comment as you plz,ridicule will not be deleted bc it is part of life. Also, I am not afraid of your ridicule,nor care about it or want your sympathy or your condolances...Finally,let me say that I hope this is far from boring bc while reading thru, I DARE OTHER BLUELIGHTERS 2 ASK THEMSELVES,COULD I PSYCOANALYSIS MYSELF IN THIS WAY,MUCH LESS FEEL COMFORTABLE ENOUGH 2 LET THE PUBLIC SEE? It will b this chance 2 compare and contrast my life to the life of the reader. Finally, the most important reason that I do write this is in the hope that it helps ppl...whether it is several ppl or just a single individual...
Introduction By: Pariahprose
EARLY LIFE EVENTS
June 11,1998-Born. I have my mother and father of course,but also a half brother 7 yrs older than me. We have the same mom, but different dads...
July 1,1993- My brother and dad die in Little River.My brother apparently was caught by an undercurrent while trying to save my dad who had had a heart attack in the water
June 30th,1995-My mother remarries. The man she marries has no kids of his own and is actually sterile. They date for about six months before their marriage...
1995-(2004)- Mental abuse and physical abuse,though mostly mental. Called me names at a young age that a kid shouldnt be called, forced me to work in 100+ weather without breaks for water,Left me in the corner sometimes on one foot for hrs on end with the threat of a belt 2 keep me in, talked to me about an affair he had with the neighbor(even had her show me her saggy nasty tits),made me watch porn movies and showed me magazines, took me with him while he was trying 2 get a woman drunk and bring her back 2 our house for an affair n the bed that he and my mom slept in...He was eventually diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic
June 21,2001- In a car wreck with my grandmas that killed her,but should have killed me as well.
HOW THESE 4 EVENTS AFFECT MY CURRENT SELF
The first and probably strongest factor that is psychologically at play in my life is the death of my brother and father. This has caused me to want nothing more than to be a father. It has also engrained in me the feeling that part of my meaning in life deals with protecting and healing,as my brother made the ultimate sacrifce to try and protect my father...Their deaths also gave me a very deep feel for the idea/feelings of death(a double funeral is just so overbearing with that concept). However,it should be noted that since I was only five when their deaths happened, I didnt comprehend death really.
The second and probably second strongest factor in my psychology is that of my step dad. I have always viewed him as more of an anti-dad. I feel my mother simply married him to where I would have a father figure in my life(she was just following what she felt was right X.x),though she did not realize I thought of it as trying to replace my father. As for the psychological impact of the mental and physical abuse,the mental abuse altered my perception the most.The name calling resulted in a diminished sense of confidence. The sexual comments,material, and situations caused me to fantasize about sex younger than most and created almost an addiction to porn in a child/teen already shy and socially awkward.His diagnosis showed me an excuse for his behavior(though there is none) and even offered pity,insight,and understanding into his mind.Which resulted in reinforcing aspects of his personality into my own.
The death of my grandmother was my first brush with death. I loved her very much. The smell of twisted metal still makes me cringe and reminds me of the stinch of my grandmas melted flesh on the left side of her face. However,the most profound impact of this wreck was that it took me to this point to grieve for my brother and dad. I didnt know how to deal with the emotions of grief psychologically at this time so it was at this age I turned to drugs to ease those emotions...
These are just the first few major events that have shaped my mindset...more will be posted later...but keep in mind the effect that these have on my psychology of other events in my life...
Pariahprose
First, the reason I am publicly making access to what some would call intimate information about myself is because I wish 2 show that I am comfortable with myself and my life.Second, comment as you plz,ridicule will not be deleted bc it is part of life. Also, I am not afraid of your ridicule,nor care about it or want your sympathy or your condolances...Finally,let me say that I hope this is far from boring bc while reading thru, I DARE OTHER BLUELIGHTERS 2 ASK THEMSELVES,COULD I PSYCOANALYSIS MYSELF IN THIS WAY,MUCH LESS FEEL COMFORTABLE ENOUGH 2 LET THE PUBLIC SEE? It will b this chance 2 compare and contrast my life to the life of the reader. Finally, the most important reason that I do write this is in the hope that it helps ppl...whether it is several ppl or just a single individual...
Introduction By: Pariahprose
EARLY LIFE EVENTS
June 11,1998-Born. I have my mother and father of course,but also a half brother 7 yrs older than me. We have the same mom, but different dads...
July 1,1993- My brother and dad die in Little River.My brother apparently was caught by an undercurrent while trying to save my dad who had had a heart attack in the water
June 30th,1995-My mother remarries. The man she marries has no kids of his own and is actually sterile. They date for about six months before their marriage...
1995-(2004)- Mental abuse and physical abuse,though mostly mental. Called me names at a young age that a kid shouldnt be called, forced me to work in 100+ weather without breaks for water,Left me in the corner sometimes on one foot for hrs on end with the threat of a belt 2 keep me in, talked to me about an affair he had with the neighbor(even had her show me her saggy nasty tits),made me watch porn movies and showed me magazines, took me with him while he was trying 2 get a woman drunk and bring her back 2 our house for an affair n the bed that he and my mom slept in...He was eventually diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic
June 21,2001- In a car wreck with my grandmas that killed her,but should have killed me as well.
HOW THESE 4 EVENTS AFFECT MY CURRENT SELF
The first and probably strongest factor that is psychologically at play in my life is the death of my brother and father. This has caused me to want nothing more than to be a father. It has also engrained in me the feeling that part of my meaning in life deals with protecting and healing,as my brother made the ultimate sacrifce to try and protect my father...Their deaths also gave me a very deep feel for the idea/feelings of death(a double funeral is just so overbearing with that concept). However,it should be noted that since I was only five when their deaths happened, I didnt comprehend death really.
The second and probably second strongest factor in my psychology is that of my step dad. I have always viewed him as more of an anti-dad. I feel my mother simply married him to where I would have a father figure in my life(she was just following what she felt was right X.x),though she did not realize I thought of it as trying to replace my father. As for the psychological impact of the mental and physical abuse,the mental abuse altered my perception the most.The name calling resulted in a diminished sense of confidence. The sexual comments,material, and situations caused me to fantasize about sex younger than most and created almost an addiction to porn in a child/teen already shy and socially awkward.His diagnosis showed me an excuse for his behavior(though there is none) and even offered pity,insight,and understanding into his mind.Which resulted in reinforcing aspects of his personality into my own.
The death of my grandmother was my first brush with death. I loved her very much. The smell of twisted metal still makes me cringe and reminds me of the stinch of my grandmas melted flesh on the left side of her face. However,the most profound impact of this wreck was that it took me to this point to grieve for my brother and dad. I didnt know how to deal with the emotions of grief psychologically at this time so it was at this age I turned to drugs to ease those emotions...
These are just the first few major events that have shaped my mindset...more will be posted later...but keep in mind the effect that these have on my psychology of other events in my life...
Pariahprose
Well,work is finally over and Im off for the wkend.No big plans or nothing,just gonna chill with my gf and kids. Gotta go shopping and pay pills 2morrow,so there goes most of my $,lol...But it wil b all right.Go home,play with the kids, and smoke some OMG(synthetic marijuana,wud smoke real but my job drug tests not 2 mention there is only shitty ass mexican compressed weedn my area.
Today was also my first day on my meds,my psychiatrist prescribed me adderall 20mg.Surprised he gave me that since it was only my 2nd time seeing him.Most ppl I have talked 2 say its harder 2 get than that. Took pretty much as presribed today,just had one extra...might have some fun with it 2night though,as I dont plan on taking it everyday.
Pariahprose
Today was also my first day on my meds,my psychiatrist prescribed me adderall 20mg.Surprised he gave me that since it was only my 2nd time seeing him.Most ppl I have talked 2 say its harder 2 get than that. Took pretty much as presribed today,just had one extra...might have some fun with it 2night though,as I dont plan on taking it everyday.
Pariahprose
Well I'd written a sort of mini-essay a few weeks ago, but turns out I saved it in drafts so it was never published. It doesn't fit the state of mind I'm in now though, so oh well. Maybe I'll 'release it' in the next few days.
But right now it's 1 am, I got back from the gym not long ago and I've been writing a philosophy paper for the past couple of hours, so I can't come up with much. Which is why it's time to indulge in my favorite time-killer, ie. SURVEY TIME
Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Nooo
What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Lord Richmond whiskey
What was your FIRST job? French teacher
What was your FIRST car? Don't have one yet
Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Friend G
Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? Mmh. Friend D perhaps
Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mme. Solassol
Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Seattle
Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Sarah, and we still see each other regularly
Where was your FIRST sleep over? Probably at Sarah's
Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Friend G
Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? Never been to a wedding
What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Made coffee
What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Guns'n Roses
FIRST broken bone? Ankle I think? I've broken a dozen, not quite sure which came first
FIRST piercing? Ears
FIRST foreign country you've gone to? Either Spain or Ireland
FIRST movie you remember seeing? No idea
When was your FIRST detention? 7th grade
Who was your FIRST roommate? Never had one
Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage/ you asked to marry? I'm 19 and happy to say that hasn't happened yet
What was the FIRST sport you were involved in? Judo
What were the FIRST lessons you ever took? Either swimming lessons or cello lessons
What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home? Turn on my laptop
A - Age: 19
B - Bed size: absolutely minuscule
C - Chinese Food Dish: don't like Chinese food
D - Dentist name: Dr. Naveau
E - Early Bird or Night Owl? night owl
F - Favorite color: black
G - Gold or Silver: silver
H - Height: 168cm
I - Ink as in tatto's you have: Led Zeppelin symbols on my right shoulder
J - Job title: well I'm a student
K - Kitchen Meal or Restaurant? restaurant
L - Living arrangements: college dorm
M - Month of birth: december
N - Nicknames: morgie...kind of embarrassed to admit that
O - On time or late: at least 10mn early
P - Pet Peeve: people who make slurping noises when they eat/drink
Q - Quote from a movie: that long quote from the beginning of Trainspotting
R - Right or left handed: right
S - Siblings: younger brother, younger sister
T - Time you wake up: it varies between 7 and 10:30 depending on when I have class
U - Urgent thing on your to do list: laundry, homework
V - Vegetable you dislike: brussel sprouts, oignons
W - Wishing for: a lot of things
X - X-rays you've had: ankle, shin, elbow, neck, thumb, wrist, various toes...most of those multiple times
Y - Yummy food you make: my cream cheese brownies are famous
Z - Zoo Favorite: bears, especially if they're polar bears
Well that was fun definitely going to start posting in here, but back to my essay now
But right now it's 1 am, I got back from the gym not long ago and I've been writing a philosophy paper for the past couple of hours, so I can't come up with much. Which is why it's time to indulge in my favorite time-killer, ie. SURVEY TIME
Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Nooo
What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Lord Richmond whiskey
What was your FIRST job? French teacher
What was your FIRST car? Don't have one yet
Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Friend G
Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? Mmh. Friend D perhaps
Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mme. Solassol
Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Seattle
Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Sarah, and we still see each other regularly
Where was your FIRST sleep over? Probably at Sarah's
Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Friend G
Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? Never been to a wedding
What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Made coffee
What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Guns'n Roses
FIRST broken bone? Ankle I think? I've broken a dozen, not quite sure which came first
FIRST piercing? Ears
FIRST foreign country you've gone to? Either Spain or Ireland
FIRST movie you remember seeing? No idea
When was your FIRST detention? 7th grade
Who was your FIRST roommate? Never had one
Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage/ you asked to marry? I'm 19 and happy to say that hasn't happened yet
What was the FIRST sport you were involved in? Judo
What were the FIRST lessons you ever took? Either swimming lessons or cello lessons
What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home? Turn on my laptop
A - Age: 19
B - Bed size: absolutely minuscule
C - Chinese Food Dish: don't like Chinese food
D - Dentist name: Dr. Naveau
E - Early Bird or Night Owl? night owl
F - Favorite color: black
G - Gold or Silver: silver
H - Height: 168cm
I - Ink as in tatto's you have: Led Zeppelin symbols on my right shoulder
J - Job title: well I'm a student
K - Kitchen Meal or Restaurant? restaurant
L - Living arrangements: college dorm
M - Month of birth: december
N - Nicknames: morgie...kind of embarrassed to admit that
O - On time or late: at least 10mn early
P - Pet Peeve: people who make slurping noises when they eat/drink
Q - Quote from a movie: that long quote from the beginning of Trainspotting
R - Right or left handed: right
S - Siblings: younger brother, younger sister
T - Time you wake up: it varies between 7 and 10:30 depending on when I have class
U - Urgent thing on your to do list: laundry, homework
V - Vegetable you dislike: brussel sprouts, oignons
W - Wishing for: a lot of things
X - X-rays you've had: ankle, shin, elbow, neck, thumb, wrist, various toes...most of those multiple times
Y - Yummy food you make: my cream cheese brownies are famous
Z - Zoo Favorite: bears, especially if they're polar bears
Well that was fun
definitely going to start posting in here, but back to my essay now
I thought I'd share this short story I wrote a few months ago. I wrote it for an online contest which I got first place for, which was really nice. I think I posted it in Words a while back but thought I may as well put it here too! Hope anyone who reads it'll like it, please feel free to give me your opinion. The prompt was 'love'
The heat is bubbling in my veins. Sweet and poisonous, it oozes through my body, trickling out of a little cut here or there. Stinging me. Every inch of my skin is on fire, but it's a good fire, it's a good fire and I encourage it by thinking about it, obsessing over it, shutting my eyes and seeing the heat run through them, because that way I make sure I don't stop feeling it. I'm outside, but the buildings all around me seem meaningless, a mixture of idiocy and hate, the one tied up in the other, never letting go. I don't see the buildings really - I see the fiery red in the veins of my eyelids because it's burning, it's so hot and it's so good. I don't even want to see the buildings. My target is a bit further, I still need to walk a while before getting there. But I can't forget the heat, or it'll all have been for nothing. Yes, yes the pain, the burning, the visceral assembly of overwhelming emotions, that's what I need right now. At least until I get there, until I get there and do what I have to do, and then it'll be done, and the heat will be gone, it'll get cold again, too cold, just like the other times. I just need to get there, quickly. One foot in front of the other, again, and again, and again, but never thinking about it too much, because if I think about it too much then the heat will go away. The people near the buildings, they're meaningless to me too, going about their pointless and redundant lives, pretending that they're happy, settling with what others imposed on them and convincing themselves that they have the life they've always wished for. But I know what they really want, because I've found it. I've found what we all want, and it's the heat, and the pain, and then to be released from it.
Flashing images dash through my mind as the heat rises. With each pang a new memory jumps into my brain, blinding me, hiding the buildings and the people and reviving the heat. A face, a face keeps coming back, and I know I've seen that face before, I know that I knew that person well, but I just don't know who that person is, because it doesn't matter anymore, all that matters is the heat. And yet the face keeps coming back, nagging me, reminding me of some long-lost part of my life that I can't bring back, and that I'm not even sure I want to bring back - and then suddenly, it's gone, it's gone for good and the heat dies down a bit, so I think about it, relentlessly, as my nails dig into my palms and bring the heat pouring out.
But then I see the face. It's standing in front of me, a few meters away. Its symmetry is horrifying, the sheer beauty of it brings my blood to boiling point and suddenly, I don't know what's happening anymore, but I know the heat is now gone and the long-awaited cold is pouring over me, and the face isn't so beautiful now, with the blood all over it. I guess I just gave it the heat. And the dagger that's in my hand, well, it's filling me with ice. The heat, the overwhelming and destructive unrequited love, well it's left me, it's gone, and the face won't make me feel that love again.
The heat is bubbling in my veins. Sweet and poisonous, it oozes through my body, trickling out of a little cut here or there. Stinging me. Every inch of my skin is on fire, but it's a good fire, it's a good fire and I encourage it by thinking about it, obsessing over it, shutting my eyes and seeing the heat run through them, because that way I make sure I don't stop feeling it. I'm outside, but the buildings all around me seem meaningless, a mixture of idiocy and hate, the one tied up in the other, never letting go. I don't see the buildings really - I see the fiery red in the veins of my eyelids because it's burning, it's so hot and it's so good. I don't even want to see the buildings. My target is a bit further, I still need to walk a while before getting there. But I can't forget the heat, or it'll all have been for nothing. Yes, yes the pain, the burning, the visceral assembly of overwhelming emotions, that's what I need right now. At least until I get there, until I get there and do what I have to do, and then it'll be done, and the heat will be gone, it'll get cold again, too cold, just like the other times. I just need to get there, quickly. One foot in front of the other, again, and again, and again, but never thinking about it too much, because if I think about it too much then the heat will go away. The people near the buildings, they're meaningless to me too, going about their pointless and redundant lives, pretending that they're happy, settling with what others imposed on them and convincing themselves that they have the life they've always wished for. But I know what they really want, because I've found it. I've found what we all want, and it's the heat, and the pain, and then to be released from it.
Flashing images dash through my mind as the heat rises. With each pang a new memory jumps into my brain, blinding me, hiding the buildings and the people and reviving the heat. A face, a face keeps coming back, and I know I've seen that face before, I know that I knew that person well, but I just don't know who that person is, because it doesn't matter anymore, all that matters is the heat. And yet the face keeps coming back, nagging me, reminding me of some long-lost part of my life that I can't bring back, and that I'm not even sure I want to bring back - and then suddenly, it's gone, it's gone for good and the heat dies down a bit, so I think about it, relentlessly, as my nails dig into my palms and bring the heat pouring out.
But then I see the face. It's standing in front of me, a few meters away. Its symmetry is horrifying, the sheer beauty of it brings my blood to boiling point and suddenly, I don't know what's happening anymore, but I know the heat is now gone and the long-awaited cold is pouring over me, and the face isn't so beautiful now, with the blood all over it. I guess I just gave it the heat. And the dagger that's in my hand, well, it's filling me with ice. The heat, the overwhelming and destructive unrequited love, well it's left me, it's gone, and the face won't make me feel that love again.