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Trying to pass the time is getting harder and harder. My life is pretty much the same everyday. Wake up pop my pills, smoke a joint, do the shit i need to get done that day then smoke weed and take benzos and opiates with my seroquel until i pass out. When the one thing you have to look forward to in your day is your first shot of morphine or hydromorphone ya know your life is fucked 8(

My moods have been going up and down alot but the clonazepam, wellbutrin, lamotrigine and seroquel I'm on seem to keep the worst of it at bay usually. Enough meds for ya? . I wish i didn't have bipolar to deal with but i have to accept that I'm going to have to deal with it my whole life. It's a depressing thought that I'm going to have to take mood stabilizers and maybe anti-psychotics my whole life but it's no different then someone with high BP taking their meds. Thankfully i haven't inherited the high blood pressure that runs on both sides of my family. I did get the mental illness and addiction traits so that's quite enough

Part of me wants to go clean and i have been slacking off on the IVing as of late. The other part of me wants to load up a syringe with hydromorphone and cocaine and do a proper speedball. Part of me wants to say fuckit and do it all the other doesn't want to give into it. Be a good boy and stay on my meds and not get fucked up or go off them and start doing coke again and drinking alot.

But I always stop and start over or get distracted. I've been off of opiates for around 2 weeks now. I told my therapist everything about my history of drug use and abuse. He wasn't exactly shocked, but I could tell he was worried about the state of my mind and how suicidal I am. This is weird because I like the sense of being worried about, but I know it's artificial and I don't want people to worry about me. What the fuck, right?

It's kind of like with heroin. Heroin tells me everything in my life is fine and I'm a rockstar and I'm doing what needs to be done, but really I'm mostly sleeping during the day and nodded out in front of this computer at night. If I do decide to go out, I have to be high as shit or at least going to buy drugs, which, for me, is a high in itself. The chase of the drugs for me is almost as good as using the drugs.

I love that shit so much. Scoring. I know there's bullshit that comes with it, but it's like an adventure to me. I live for adventures and experiences of all sorts. I don't have too much shame about getting arrested, using heroin, tripping on LSD or any of those "drug user" stigmas as I am very open with it to almost everyone in my life except for my brother. He's the only one I try to hide my use from and I don't know why. I guess I don't want him to be ashamed of his sister and what she's become, especially since he has no mother or father. He's 23 years old physically, but emotionally and intellectually he's around 14 or 15, possibly less. I've become almost a mother figure to him and I don't want to ruin that for him and have him lose another mother figure. I personally never had a true mother or father figure emotionally nor authoritatively because, when I turned around 15, no one could tell me what to do. I just did whatever the fuck I wanted without much resistance from my parents. I was never "grounded" or punished in any way. My parents were in huge denial about my drug use and up till I was about 15, my grades in school reflected a good student with lots of potential. But I felt stupid and isolated and scared and antisocial and wasn't truly accepted by my peers save for a few close friends not at my school.

It was this emotional isolation and extreme shyness and low self-esteem that make me seek other states of mind and being. There were also a few traumas I suffered during this period that could have attributed to my stereotypically teenage rebellious response to adults and authority, but that's besides the point. I didn't care to try and make friends or socialize outside of the few friends I'd had. I still don't really make too many friends outside of drug buddies and contacts. It's not a terribly bad thing, because sometimes these people become good friends, but we can't help but use when we're around these people, so if either of us wish to get clean, it would be the end of the friendship/contact.

I'm looking for work but I don't seem to be finding anything. I'm probably not looking hard enough or letting my pride get in the way with certain things. I sabotaged myself because I'd found a job in around December (although who knows if I would have been kept past the Christmas season) and just stopped going once again. And once again I self-sabotaged my school work and would get an A in one class and an F or WU in another class for two semesters in a row. So now there are no options for me but to find work instead of relying on my brother and girlfriend. Shit sucks. I suck as a person. I am not present. I might as well not be here. Anything little scam I can pull off or drug-related thing I can do I get really excited about and I am waiting and waiting to relapse as soon as I can.

It's so stupid to throw all of this away but I feel like I will. Currently, I'm pretty fucking stoned. Shit, so that's about it...

I don't know what the fuck to think or say or do.

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I keep finding myself here, and every time I always end up writing about how I keep finding myself here.
I don't know why I keep coming. I never wanna leave though once I'm here.

An empty brain, stupid, sporadic, non-linear, ugly, depraved, but more or less without a coherent thought.
I try to avoid cliches and literary melodrama but they feel so profound on dope. So I'm going to abandon restraint.

I've experienced heaven, it's a lot like this: my brain and body feel spectacular. Heaven is so much more colorful and vivid though. There are people too. People who like me for me, who aren't rundown, people who are intelligent. The architecture in heaven is much better too. Ionian columns laced with vines or illuminated warehouse rafters tend to be the norm. There's warmth in heaven, "love", intellect building in complexity and meaning, until it comes to a point. Disolving and rebuilding. Patterns. Connectivity.

I've experience hell too, it's a lot like this: my brain and body although rundown and dirty and tired are occasionally blessed with interludes of feelings of rapturous relief and euphoria. Much like this. People don't like me though. They don't know me. I appear to them as a transient idiot trashy junkie, and while I may prove myself useful (and god do i get used) they despise me and judge me. There is no architecture. A run down toolshed, a bridge, a matress, poverty and graffiti. There is no warmth, no love, ignorance and violence. Shame, euphoria, and a shaky numbness are the only states of mind.

Where I am now though; this is purgatory. My body and brain feel spectacular. It's wasted though. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. People here tolerate me. I have one person here who loves me, but he's locked in his room. Experiencing the same thing I am. We exchange messages on Facebook and meet only to do more drugs. It's a small apartment. Filthy. Cups filled with cigarette ashes all over. Scum and dirt and food everywhere. It doesn't matter though, it's just a small apartment. Nothing interesting. My brain is empty. Pornography and Bluelight are my main staples. Tomorrow everytime I close my eyes I'll see the pretty, young, blonde, shamed and dishonered. Two penises in her, ejaculate in her face and mouth. She cracks very briefly and I can see the pain in her eyes. This will be burned on my eyelids for days.

Wasted night, painful day tomorrow.
Heaven and hell come and go, outside of my control. Inevitable.
This purgatory though, I intentionally come here. I walk off the path and come here to waste my mind and waste my time.

I'm getting a better idea of why.
Unless it's heaven, or hell, or purgatory I feel nothing.
I can't function on earth.
Having encountered the other planes, earth is a silly dull place.
I don't hate it, it is what it is, but i belong above it or below it or hovering over the ground.

All this celestial travel isn't practical though, I need to spend some good quality time here. Doing human things. Working, loving, appreciating, thinking, bettering. But how?

How do I make myself want life?



Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go smoke some more stimulants in a dirty stoner bathroom, fry my mind with degradation and sex and then experience the emptiness. I need some real life friends or some shit

met her on bluelight.
five years older than me, kind of crazy, kind of smart, sexy as hell.

she asked for a shot of meth, she couldn't hit herself and hadn't shot in a year.
i made our shot, asked her to put music on.

she put on tom petty, held her soft, pale, arm straight across my lap.
registered. pushed the plunger down, watched her eyes get big, her skin flush, and she began to speak in the cutest voice and in that moment she was the most gorgeous creature i'd ever laid eyes on.

i injected myself, we talked frantically excitedly, and she asked me to kiss her.
and our lips were dry and i've never kissed a girl on meth. it's hard.
but it was the most beautiful kiss.
it was nothing sick and depraved like what usually would have happened on meth.
it was heartfelt and rapturous and when i was done i rushed and stared in to her eyes in awe of her beauty.

i love her.

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... is some other beginning's end. The line is cheesy as all fuck, but it is completely true.

As I've mentioned in a reply to animal_cookie's announcement that she's going back to school-- grats once again, by the way -- I've also recently decided to go back to school. I suspect that I'm a bit less along in the application/admissions process as she is, as I'm still compiling my applications package and figuring out the details of how each school handles applications.

But Dave, you're a professional in your field, working in an exciting young company at a critical time, and are actually earning a salary! A salary that will only continue to increase in time! Why on earth would you want to go back to school?

Well, it's been something that I've been turning over in my head for a while now, and I've wanted to put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper in order to more closely examine my motivations. Yes, I'm working as a professional chemist, at a job where there is at least the semblance of research, with only a bachelor's degree in chemistry. That is, frankly, all but unheard of where I am. Due to a number of factors, including: dominance of engineering as a profession in virtually all technical fields, the increasing popularity of applied 'degrees', and the watering down of both admissions and undergrad programs (in order to increase admissions, to have enough tuition to stay afloat, due to the government's policy of incremental defunding of education); a bachelor's degree in science is considered to be equivalent to a 2-year applied technician's diploma in industry. In many cases, it is actually considered to be less attractive than a diploma, as fewer practical skills are taught, as there is still a focus on theory and research at the undergrad level.

Due to this, it took me a year to get the job that I currently have, and even then I was only able to find it because I was connected to the founder of the startup. And it was not a pleasant job to start. Poorly paid, with little to do, and what little there was to do could have been done by a high-school student. Not grad. Student. Still, I slogged along for a bit, and in time -- partly due to said founder leaving the company, and taking various invisible hierarchies and prejudices along -- the job improved somewhat. Late last year, I'd almost say that I was even working close to the level to which my education had prepared me: doing some self-directed research, experimental design and execution, and writing technical reports. They weren't ever going to see the light of day outside the company, much less be reviewed and published, but it was something.

But there have been philosophical issues with industry, that have bothered me from the start. Research is based, by and large, on a gift economy. I borrow use of so-and-so's spectrophotometer, and down the road they may ask to 'borrow' some of an esoteric compound that I used to use. Reciprocity is implied, but not necessarily expected. A big part of this is publication; people are paid nothing when they submit to a journal. They are giving away the information, putting it into the public domain-- albeit behind paywalls these days, but the principle is there. Why give it away? So that others can build on it. Simple as that. That is how research is able to progress.

Now, while the following may not be true of every situation in industry, it is certainly true as a broad-stroke generalization: industry is by and large parasitic on this gift economy. Businesses operate on the idea that any money spent needs to have a monetary return, else it is wasted. Since much of research involves failure, it is anathema to this principle. So rather than funding original research, most industrial outfits will take what academics have given to the public domain, tweak it just enough to be patentable, and then lock it up. Once locked, they'll squeeze as much utility out of the idea as possible, while spending as little as possible to develop the underlying concepts further. Any new developments are kept internal, locked away from other eyes that might use it, even if the application has nothing to do with what the company in question is doing. Knowing what advances that have been made during my tenure, and knowing that it'll never be published, makes me really wonder at what amazing things have been found in industry, but are rotting in some tech's lab notebook, never to be seen.

Never mind the fact that for many companies, the only 'research' that is done is funded externally, while holding on to all rights to the IP. That's a screed for another day. To sum that up in one sentence: it is wrong for shareholders to expect to have exclusive rights to the fruits of research, unless they are willing to fund the work that produced it exclusively. This is rarely done-- not just in the company in which I work, but several others across industry. But since most people in government (at least where I am) were business people first and foremost, they're all about channeling wealth from public coffers into private industry.

So that is why I am going back to school. Because I am sick of spending my days trying to attach a clock to someone else's radio and call that a new idea, and because I am sick of having to go begging to public institutions to pay for the privilege of doing so, despite the fact that the bulk of the financial reward of the work will go to a bunch of rich fat old men.

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The past 5 days have been interminable. I miss spending my days in blissful oblivion. I don't even remember much during the times I was using heroin. My memory is shit. This fucking Klonopin is a curse, but I can't function without it and I am not ready for benzo withdrawal.

I've done nothing to get outside of my head. I had my first dream in God knows how long. It was more of a nightmare, really. I was a red headed man, for some reason. (I think I've been listening to too much Queens of the Stone Age.) I worked at my old job, with my old manager. All of a sudden, we were in the hospital. I think my red headed male counterpart self was injured. Shot maybe, possibly an animal bite, some kind of garish flesh wound. They worked on me and worked on me and I think they shot me with Dilaudid. The cravings are so hard to overcome. They come in my sleep. They never leave my waking mind. I can't even think about anything besides the 19th, when I get my Percocet script refilled... 600mg of oxycodone and thousands and thousands of milligrams of Tylenol. Last month, I took at least 15 a day without even cold water extracting. I didn't give a shit. I just wanted to be fucking high. Possibly overdose on Tylenol and be dead in 10 days time, with liver failure. I'm still having some stomach pains and whatever. The NA Meeting I was supposed to go to started 10 minutes ago, but I don't really want to be around other addicts right now.

Right now, addicts disgust me. Because I am an addict. I disgust myself. I don't want to be a part of any club that would have me as a member, as the saying goes. The funny thing is anyone can be a member of this shitty addict club. I guess I've been a poly-drug abusing addict for nearly 10 years now. I'm 25. You do the math. I haven't learned how to self-soothe. Without chemicals.

I have therapy on Friday and a psychiatrist appointment on Saturday. I'm going to ask for Ambien and Xanax. I don't give a shit. This new guy sucks about as bad as my old guy. Psychiatrists and Therapists are so different. I think I like therapists more, even though most can't write those yummy prescriptions everyone loves. They just fucking listen and bounce back what you tell them...

I stare at the scars on my arm from old self-harm episodes and want to open them up with the razors I use to chop my dope and pills. I want to jump out of my window. I want to walk in front of a speeding train. I know exactly where and when. Just sit at the train station and wait for that deafening BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP of the horn of an express train.

My mood changes -- sometimes hourly or more -- from relief that I am not longer opioid dependent, depression that I have no money or job right now nor any school prospects until I can start working again, wanting to move out of this godforsaken apartment, out of the Bronx, out of New York. Also, the cravings. I've been using NyQuil and Ambien and my Klonopin to try and sleep. 2 and a half more weeks until we get some money, or until my old job fucking replaces my check with a new one because I'd never cashed it & it expired. It's like, literally, $XX.XX dollars. From one night's work. It's chump change, but right now it's sounding like some roxies to me. What the fuck good is a few roxies going to do for me? It's also sounding like a nice number of bags of dope. That might be better. I'm obsessing over drugs constantly as well as money. Texting all my drug buddies to see "what's up", and even if anything WAS UP, I don't have any fucking money. Plus, I'm no good for a front right now. Hell, I owe a good friend $XX bucks for some stuff I was supposed to pick up for her. I've never scammed anyone out of anything, but shit happens when you're in the middle of opioid addiction and money gets crossed and then you fuck up, majorly. I owe another friend a great deal more money, because he was kind enough to give me money for my rent that I so selfishly spent on drugs.

All he wanted me to do was go to church with him on Sunday, but I couldn't, because I was dope sick. He's a really good guy and one of the last people I would have thought would come through, not because he's a bad guy, but because I'm not anything to him. I've known him peripherally through my girlfriend, when he was best friends with her ex, but I had the feeling he didn't think much of me because I used drugs and drank so much. Then he got involved with some guy, everything was pretty fucked up for him, drank quite a bit. Then he joined the Navy, found God and became one of those born again Christians. He even bought me a bible in purple paisley leather... my favorite fucking color and pattern. He even drove me and my girlfriend to the cemetery where my mom and aunt are buried and I finally got to see her after 5 and a half years for me mom and 12 years for my aunt.

It was a crazy experience. The day was rainy and gloomy, but when we found my mom's headstone, the clouds above us seemed to have parted. I put some stones I'd found on top of her headstone, as Jews do, because flowers aren't what we do. Flowers are pretty for a while, but in the end, they are dead, when not growing in the ground of course. But stones and rocks are more permanent. One grave nearby was covered in seashells and a lot of them had bushes growing in front of the headstones. I kind of know what it all means, but I kind of don't.

Then I saw this weeping willow tree, so I thought we'd go over to it. Not 25 feet away was my aunt Ida's gravestone. I figured I'd go back and find her next time, but we practically tripped over her. I cried a little more and then once again the clouds parted right above us for some sun to shine through.

It's so weird though, because I was born and raised Jewish. I don't want to convert to Christianity. I am content with being "Jew-ish", if you dig.

I think I'd rather not go to church (unless it's in the basement, for an NA meeting) while high or dope sick. It seems so disrespectful.

What is keeping me here, really? I guess my dad. He's had Parkinson's for over 13 years now. It started with a weird twitch in his left hand and now it leaves him almost completely paralyzed, with dementia and anxiety to go along with it. My father has been suffering for so long. I want him to rest. I don't want him to die, but it's so selfish of me to want him to live as the shell of his former self. The last time I visited him, he thought my brother was his nephew and thought there were microchips implanted in his wrist that he would talk to. I'd bought him a television a few years ago, but the Nursing Home since moved his room and lo and behold, no more television. What the fuck? I just want my dad to have some peace. Keeping him alive is like torture. A few times, he asked me to kill him. I couldn't kill him, but I would want my child to kill me if I asked them. That's fucked up though. I don't want my kid to go to hell for killing me. Maybe they could just get me enough drugs for me to do the job.

I'm so pissed off my girlfriend bought cigarettes. It's the same price as a bag of dope. FUCK! I shouldn't be feeling like this but I do.

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Well, it's late and I don't see anything I want to post on. So I decided to start a blog. I am really happy right now. My pain is controlled and I'm relaxing in bed. My drug of choice is norco 10/325mg. I take 2-3 a day. I think I might need to increase to 4 in a month or 2. I think I either have 2 pinched nerves one in my neck and one in my lower back or I have fibromyalgia. Idk. I still work and can handle it. By 3pm I'm antcy and ready to go home and lay down. I'm only productive a few hrs a day. I find myself reading about Vicodin and researching it. I think I love it. It has brought new pleasures in my life. I am more active and suffer less. I still have flair ups and at times and it brings me down. But over all my quality of life is better. I hate how some people look at you like you are a drug addict if you take narcotics. But I don't care. I know what I am and I know what I'm not. I may be physical dependent or have a tolerance, but a addict no. I would love to just take it for a buzz. That would be amazing. But I hate being in agony. I hate feeling my muscles throbb, and the shooting pain is terrible. I can not stand the feelings in my calfs that I get every freaken day. Well I'm sleepy now so that's all till next time

But it's so fucking hard to sleep.

I've had to rely on NyQuil for the past few nights. I think the worst is over... till the next time, I guess. I don't even feel like writing. I feel like an empty shell of a human being and I want nothing to do with myself or my thoughts. I'm going to lie down on my clean sheets and play my Nintendo DS, hopefully till the Sandman comes...

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Maybe I should start taking my Wellbutrin... Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Interesting stuff! I do alot of reading & research, & genetics/descendants of inbreeding although absolutely taboo in my mind, nevertheless has not blinded me to the fact that even in America regardless of legality occurs alot more frequently than most people care to assume. A friend of mine had been molested repeatedly by her natural father from the time she was 11-13. Her dad had been born and raised in a rural area of the deep south, & while it wasn't talked about, & marriages didnt occur between siblings or parent/child, interbreeding between older brother &/or father rapes on younger sisters/daughters was accepted "in the closet" & went unreported.

Several M.D. coworkers I questioned in the past had told me conceptions resulting between half siblings or parent child unions could in fact often times be free of defects and without apparent consequences to being born healthy and living productive lives. They would, of course need to consult with MD specialist in genetic counseling to get a more reliable answer, as blood work, genetic tests would have to be obtained from each birth parent because each case is unique. Results could potentially fall anywhere from catastrophic, normal, to superior intelligence and/or immunity from diseases many are vulnerable to.

The probability of dimenished health/physical/mental defects becomes greater when interbreeding continues to produce offspring into 2nd, 3rd, 4th + generations--such as European royalty bloodline. King Henry VIII from what I've researched was credited to having been "the most gifted" of England's kings as a young man with superior strength in body, excelled in hunting, jousting, archery, as well as possesing superior intelligence, well educated, and composed beautifal music, songs, poetry, and if I remember correctly, could play some musical instruments very well.

Eventually repeated sports injuries would one day prevent him from exercise, which combined with the excessive consumption of red meats, ale, bread, and wine (veggies were considered peasant food) caused obesity, gout, maybe diabetes that ultimately killed him, not his genes, though some of his wives suffered from dysmennorrhea, difficulty conceiving, and inability to sustain viable pregnancies resulting in miscarriages, stillborns, or not living past 2-3 yrs.

The Hutterites on Nat Geo I could tell immediately they were generations of the practice of interbreeding, as they pretty much all look the same. I had met someone that had been born a hermaphordite years ago that had fathered several children, yet had the capability of having been a mother had he/she chosen by C-section. The docs I questioned had said brother/sister sharing same mother and father would involve the most potential risk, as opposed to parent/child or 1st cousins because full siblings both share the same 2 parents. This got me wondering if a hermaphrodite copulated with itself and produced a child would the risk be even greater than brother-sister equal?

I know thats a strange thing to wonder but Ive always had a mind wondering about things considered surreal by mainstream society no doubt. I havent yet been able to find hypothetical theories or facts to answer my question no doubt because hermaphrdites are rare and the ones I have read about eventually became either male or female in US or Canada, or lived as lady boys in India, Thailand, or Japan but none that I know of, except for a fictional character in a Dean Koontz book. Any thoughts?

Looked back at the entry I posted last night not a good state of affairs... I was stoned and I was hysterical... not a good combo.

Today I feel less like I need to leave this world and more like I need C out of my world. I deleted all the texts he sent, deleted his number, blocked him on Facebook... the only way he can get to me is if he turns up at the door or if he emails my work email address which I don't think he has anymore.

I'm done with him. I'm changing my phone number as soon as I'm able to. I've written to my mobile provider to see if they'll change it or let me upgrade and get a new number a month early.

It's funny how we trust others with the fragility of our hearts. All too often they end up crushed and maimed...

Never again. NEVER AGAIN. I had one big love in my lifetime (Alan) that I won't ever regret despite how it ended... I knew true romance once in my life and I don't ever want to feel it again. It hurt too much.

It took me a long time to get over Alan, and I'm only just getting there now, and despite the bitter-sweet feelings evoked from memories of he and I... I don't regret the time we had... I just regret how it ended. Although it was inevitable that it could end. There was no way that two such passionate, emotional, sensitive souls could stay together. In many ways we were too alike. I used to hate the thought of being like him. But now I catch myself saying or doing things, and smiling. Because I see him in me... and it's something special for me that won't ever go away long after his love for me burned out.

This blip I'm having now with C... it's just a blip... I tried so hard with him and he just doesn't want to be helped. I started changing myself to be what he wanted and I promised myself I'd never be that person. I'm secure in myself. I don't need to adhere to anybody else's standards.

I'd give anything to sit with Alan one more time. He and I, and a few g's of billy... yattering word pictures and deconstructing organised religion.

The heart will never forget. So I celebrate what we had.

Man, i love me some Mexican Coke, in the glass bottle. When I buy it, I freeze it because it gets real slushy - little pieces of ice in every sip.

mane, i just figured out what i already knew: to get the right pair of jeans costs money. you can't mess around and buy the ones that look good enough because they're on sale, you have to buy the ones that are in the display case.

the rules are like this: $80 is the new $50. there are people out there who can afford to get the $300 pairs, but i'm not one of them - living low over here. so my magic number is $90, for a pair that makes the crotch and ass look right for when i'm showing off my goodies, like look at what you can't have, gay men and older women. this booty good.

It has been the slowest but most productive wknd I have had in a long time. Making civil liability legislation my bitch.

Going to ace tomorrow's exam, go back to work the next day and smash it. Life is so much better when you get all that negative bullshit out and fuck off no-good liars. I am too fucking old for mind games.

I don't think I want to be here anymore. He's just sent the most awful texts for the last hour. Just the most horrible, hurtful texts. I want to die. I just want to die and not feel anything anymore. He's pushed me too far this time.

I did EVERYTHING I could to be a good friend to him. And he doesn't see any of it. I wish I'd never met him.

Eh... It has been a boring couple of months.
I'm doing my best at this sobriety thing at the moment. Got some time clean, doesn't feel like I can handle it the rest of my life, definite no-go on never taking MDMA again.

Just got finished with a stint in jail/rehab between December-March. I am so damn tired of jail.

On a more positive note, I finally started getting back in the swing of trying to look for girls to hook up with and date. I've been hanging with this girl quite a bit lately, since I got home from rehab. She has kind of been teasing me around, but this Thursday, the 8th, we ended up having some great sex (I think it was pretty great at least). It was the first sex I have had not blown out on dope in a long long time. And more-so the first sex I've had in-general in the past 7-8 months. It was a good feeling. We went at it for about an hour, then I just had to pass out, it was late and I wasn't about to get off.

Sorry if that is too much information.

This is my life. 50% Smiles and 50% disappointment at the moment. Maybe this is a good equilibrium.

Post again soon bluelight.

Right.




























The abrasive crank is in short circulation, this is not to my liking and creates an abysmal cavern of rank nonsense no fool in his right mind would EVER publish.

I blame the feds. Greedy Cunts never learned to share the wealth.

I'm struggling. I'm really struggling.

For the last few weeks... months? I've been caught in this crazy time with my best male friend. He and his fiancee broke up. That wasn't really a surprise because I've been his emotional mistress all this time. He's admitted himself that when he needs someone it's always me that he wants and that he never wanted to go to her.

When he and I first met there may have been a frisson of attraction between us but the one time we allowed anything to happen it was just not the right situation and we both ended up feeling a bit embarassed. Then life kind of got in the way... and somehow we ended up best friends. He watched my other best male friend break my heart... I never thought that this guy would though.

I'm pretty naive, I'm sure you've noticed.

So now that my friend and his lady have broken up, we've been spending a lot more time together. We tend to go out drinking or get on the powder. It's always been a great time. He started coming onto me when he was wasted, but he always backed out at the last minute until about a month ago when we'd been out drinking, had a great night, and went back to his to drink wine. He was very serious about it, sat me down, made an indecent proposal and I went off for a bath and to have a think about it. I guess the fact that I've been single for over four years kind of got the better of me. That, on top of the fact that I have probably always fancied him and just not been able to admit it.

It was AWESOME... but I was working the next day so I left after he fell asleep and texted to let him know why I'd gone.

So in the weeks after this event we would go out every Thursday night. And every Thursday night would end in drunken arguments. He wants to move to London, he won't talk about what happened between us, stuff like that...

Saturday night last week I was at a Wedding. Early hours of Sunday (it was a hippy wedding, so it was pretty full on, outdoor music etc) he texted and said he missed me. Which he's never said before. Then what followed was the filthiest four hours of texting I've ever seen.

Of course, I was speedy, and he was coked... I'm very truthful when I'm using phet, but I guess the coke just brought out his manipulative side.

Long story short I feel like he's picking me up and dropping me at his whim, now he's moving to London with next to no forward planning. He's got a medical condition that affects his ear and he's suffering badly with depression - it was the blues that bonded us in the first place - as I was pretty much the first person he could open up to.

There's so many little subtle things that I would need to explain for anyone to understand this, but I haven't got the heart to sit here and write them all out as my heart just feels painful.

We're not talking anymore. I've not heard from him since Wednesday. Normally we text each other all day every day unless one of us is having a depressive spell. Even then we still check in. I told him to leave me alone but it was in a fit of anger because he was completely disregarding something that was important to me... which is something he seems to do a LOT. He's always come first, his thoughts, his emotions, his feelings, his situations.

The problem is that I've indulged them for the last four years. I've allowed him to be a certain way with me and he now thinks that he can treat me exactly as he likes and that I'll just take it. I can't take it. I nursed him mentally through some of the hardest times of his life when he had a fiancee that should have done it for him. When he self harmed it was me that cleaned up the blood and made sure he was ok... she turned up with a band aid the next day and claimed she'd done all the work. He gave her expensive jewellery, holidays, got a stunning car for them, he wanted kids and marriage and a beautiful life. And she treated him like SHIT. I've no doubt that he was a dramatic little fucker but she was absolutely psychotic. He's mentally, physically and permanently scarred because of some of the shit that she's done to him. Who picked up the pieces every time?

Me.

I had to take a stand, I just couldn't deal with the arguments or the not knowing if he was just wanting a sexual relationship with me because he's lonely or because he cares about me. I think it's just because he's lonely. He still has her spare toothbrush, makeup bag and deodorant at his flat.

I can't bear to be used like that, hearing my best friend comparing my bedroom skills to that of his ex fiancee was just awful, even though he was comparing me in a favourable light. It's just so wrong... yet the times that I deliberately let my shirt unbutton or dropped something sexy into conversation... it made him hungry... I used to be able to read him better than anyone. Although saying that most guys are lead by their dicks and his reaction would have been a primal response rather than a romantic one.

Anyway, here's me at my parents house, feeling sad and alone and missing him like crazy. I had to get out of the town where we live as it all felt too close for comfort. I can't say I'm forgetting it... the ache in my chest just won't let me forget... but I'm amongst people that I love so that makes me feel better.

I could break, I could contact him, but I cannot fall back into that habit because it means he'll always have the upper hand and I will NOT let myself be controlled that way.

He leaves for London in just under a month. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I might never see him again. And if I make this sacrifice...

Will I ever feel rewarded or will I always feel this empty?

There's no answers.

My only solace is the song "Picking Up The Pieces" by Paloma Faith.

Anyway, that's my rant overwith.

I fucking miss him. So fucking much. But I can't admit that to anyone who knows me.

Ok last paragraph for real this time. I learned a valuable lesson last night. Opiates are different. It's not all sunshine and hippies and flowers. I'd read about the dark side of heroin before and I caught a glimpse that scared the shit out of me. I know I'm in the infancy of my experience with this stuff yet it's already reared it's ugly head for me to see. I can't imagine how hard it would be to deal with a full blown habit. I have read other's experiences where at first H takes away all your worries but eventually you do it and still have a heavy head. It surprised me. I didn't think anything could touch me with my bulletproof vest on. But my vest turned on me last night.

Ok fuck the paragraph count. Thank you BLuelighters for making me aware of what I was getting into and what to watch out for. Had I not stumbled in here first, I would have walked off that cliff blindfolded. But tell me folks, isn't it crazy that opiates walked right into my life immediately after I got my BL education!?

Peace love and prayers to all!

P.S. someone at work told me they thought I'd make a good writer. I didn't write this for that reason, just needed to get it off my chest. There's nobody else I could share it with. But please let me know what you think. Does it flow? Is it somewhat interesting? Thanks!

seriously. the tattoo on my left wrist that reads "DISCIPLINE" that i got maybe 6 months ago definitely has great meaning in my life. i just spent a month doing physical training at an intensity that would make a Marine Corps drill sergeant weep. i literally went from zero to fevered pitch--140 push ups in morning, 5k run, then weight training, and, oddly enough, once i'm burned from that i volunteer at the local humane society to socialize (ie. play) wif kittehs LOL. my goal is to become an amateur boxer in the cruiserweight class, just under 200lbs. if you think i'm too old to do this--AND I'M NOT--then fuck man, i mean, the heavyweight world champ is THIRTY FIVE, but to be FAIR he might not actually be human. i wrote this little piece about him....even if you don't like boxing you might get a LOL
http://surthrival.deviantart.com/journal/The-Heavyweight-World-Champion-is-a-Cyborg-307015212

i may actually write a book about what i've been through recently in my life....like getting Baker Acted while sane because i basically called out this drug treatment place on their bullshit. http://surthrival.deviantart.com/journal/Fragments-from-Hell-303398297

or saving some punkass wannabe gangster 18 year old kid from going back to jail:
http://surthrival.deviantart.com/journal/Saved-Kid-From-Jail-Repays-Favor-With-SHIT-304459315

here is what i look like today, by the way:

http://surthrival.deviantart.com/#/d52yl3h

thought you might appreciate it, bluelight. i try to share my enthusiasm and strength and hope to all i'm able to reach....i mean, life is so fuckin beautiful now! the transformation i went through is truly miraculous, if such a word is ever to have real meaning

i can't fucking wait to be too cut and sexy to ignore. i already see a change in the way people (HOT CHICKS) react to me. i'm sure it has to do with not only looking better, but also feeling a new level of confidence and power and comfort in my own skin that i haven't had.....in......maybe 14 years? getting off psych meds and pwning noobs with my fists = WIN

when my friend Mia told me "you are made of WIN" it was quite accurate, and also one of the sweetest things a s.o. has ever said to me :D