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It is a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon. A peaceful tranquility hums off of the side walk. The grass waves with a steady breeze, flowing up and into my window. My lunch is warm and my drink is cold. Simple thoughts no longer carry any weight. It is as if the world has lost its luster. Perhaps I need to take a break.

I continue down a path of happiness and fear. My face and body may not resemble my practices, however my eyes do. As I stare into the mirror I see an empty shell of belonged to my soul.

There are yin and yang. There are GHB and methamphetamine. The two counteract each other like water does a fire. I sit here alternating between two worlds.

In the world of GHB, I feel slow, goofy and unafraid of the consequences of my actions. It is in this world that I desire the fast paced, aggressive aspects of methamphetamine. Therefore, I dose the speed.

The room begins to sharpen. My mind no longer feels at ease. I begin to rapidly theorize, execute and communicate ideas in which I would have never spoken aloud; racing thoughts plague this mindset. Now it feels as if death, both physical and spiritual are very real things. Soon enough my thoughts dive into those of panic. Looking like an idiot, I take my blood pressure, temperature and heart rate every ten minutes as if I expect an undiagnosed health condition to manifest itself and take my life during my state of high stress.

As I end this manic behavior with GHB, I feel my heart slowly come to a regular pace. I remember my mother talking about listening to my heart beat for the first time while I was in her womb. Thump Thump

The heart beat is a reassuring sound to still be alive after a panic. To think in my teenage years I felt depressed, suicidal. After a dozen attacks, the saddened mind no longer wishes for eternal sleep, rather, quite the opposite.

I find myself looking back in the mirror. I found the cure for depression.

It's been a few days since I have seen Ron, and I think it a few more months before we meet again. Like that crazy best friend we all had growing up, he reappears out of nowhere, and it is as if we never missed a beat. Ron's not so bad, and he has a way worse reputation than he should. I mean, there are plenty others that are just like him, but since they present themselves a little better, they don't have the stigma that Ron carries.

It was a few months ago that I ran into Ron again. We hung out on weekends, but he grew on me like he always has, and we were hanging out more frequently as the months went on. It's pretty obvious when he is around, as my friends surely notice and say "Tommyboy isn't answering his phone... Ron must be back in town," and "he hasn't come out in a month, he must be choosing Ron over us again...."

There's only so much time that one can hang out with Ron before getting sick of him, and there is only a few people that you can introduce him to. It's kind of odd that Ron hangs out with me these days, because after all, he is a very accomplished older man, and is well traveled. He's been all over the world, and hung out with all different crowds. He recently moved to the suburbs, which is how we met. His cousin Oscar had become pretty popular around these ways, so it was only natural that I started hanging out with Ron, since the two are very similar, yet Ron is around to hang out more often.

It's a relief to take a break from hanging out with Ron. I always get a little sick after partying with him for a while, but I welcome the sickness as a means of symbolizing change. Promise of a better day, promise of a new tomorrow, when all the restrictions that have been put on me by Ron are suddenly lifted, and I can live free again. The problem is, living free from Ron is only so good when you long for the day that you can hang out again. You know some people that still see him, so he's never more than a phone call or two away, but it's sometimes best to keep that door shut for as long as possible before reopening it.

So here I sit during the bittersweet farewell to Ron. It's the same as anybodies farewell to that crazy friend they had while growing up, or in college. Your family and friends can only stand him so much before they tell you that you have to stop seeing him or they will stop talking to you.

Well Ron, we had a good run but it's time we part ways. Hopefully I will use this time apart to make even more money to blow with you when we meet again. Tis the ebb and tide of our relationship after all. Oh, and one more thing. Next time we hang out, try not to burn such holes in my pockets! A mans gotta eat, ya know.

"Birds flying high you know how I feel / Sun in the sky you know how I feel / Breeze drifting on by you know how I feel.
It's a new dawn / It's a new day / It's a new life, for me / ...oOOoOo
And I'm feelin good."

12 days clean. 1 day at a time.

Nothing beats the original Nina Simone version but Muse is pretty damn close in my book. Today I am 12 days clean from opiates and those almost two weeks feel like it could have been easily over two months. Time just seems to slow down and at times come to a complete stop when you are feeling miserable. Today started out as one of those days as well. Days 10 and 11 I almost felt like I was regressing back into physical withdraw symptoms. Nothing serious just some hot/cold flashes, RLS, and some stomach issues. Still that seemed strange I had never experienced any of those symptoms coming back after they passed. It may have been some virus I was mistaking for w/d but I treated it anyways with just Loperamide(Imodium) and Tylenol PM and lots of sleep and hydration. To make matters worse during that probably day 9 or 10 I had a very tricky situation come up. While I was looking for my keys and run across one of those little round black film holders that I used to use to keep my stash in. I picked it up and instinctively shook it. I cringed a little and admittedly felt a lot of excitement when I heard the *clak clak clak* that indicated goodies were inside. I didnt even think about it before I popped it open and dumped the contents into my hand. 4 yellow perc 10/325's and 2 tiny blue Roxy 30's along with several blue xanax. Man that was a difficult thing to be staring me in the face. Luckily my brother is staying with me and was home so I snatch out the the blue footballs(I have admittedly been using benzos to help with the psychological aspects of withdrawl; hey nobody is perfect right?) and take the rest into the kitchen where he was sitting and plopped them down on the table in front of him. He is aware of my situation and has been a big help. He swiped them off the side of the table with one hand into the other and walked to the toilet and unceremoniously flushed them without even asking any questions. Man the pain when I heard that toilet flush. I am just glad he was there or I could easily see that have being a set back in my recovery. I am still very weak when it comes to these dammed things but I was proud of myself for being able to give them up after finding them since my brother was only 10 feet away from me.

During those bad days I had been trying to rewatch some movies. I started watching "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy to occupy my mind and found myself comparing the entire story with opiate addiction and withdraw. I mean maybe I would see it in everything with it being pretty much constantly at the forefront of my mind. But the whole thing with the way that the ring draws you to it and then basically enslaves you to it. The way the longer you possess the ring the harder it is to let it go. Just the general pain and suffering the ring would inevitably cause the one who carried the burden of holding onto it. I found myself wishing I could walk to some mythical "morder" and toss my addiction into the heart of the mountain and watch it burn away in the flames and be done with it. But alas, "One does not simply walk into Mordor."

So today day 12 I wake up and I am still not feeling great not to mention PAWS definitely in full effect. I despised the thought of even getting out of bed. Well at this point I am pretty much at my wits end with letting this thing kick me in the ass. I gave it its time to get out of my system and I cooperated with laying around resting drinking lots of fluids and generally feeling sorry for myself. I just made a decision that I was done with it. I popped a couple Imodium tabs and an Ibuprofen 800 and jumped in the shower. The shower is purely to slap some awareness in myself as I had just showered no more than four hours ago, and again no more than four hours before that. In fact in these past 10 days or so I have taken no less than 4-5 showers a day. It just feels good and is of the few pleasures available to someone in that state and if you have had those sweats you know that putrid smell. It is like no body odor you would experience normally except when secreting the poisons of a drug from your system. Most drugs have their own unique but poignant stink but they all have them when your body dispels them. So you want to rid yourself of it as often as possible. Anyways I get washed up and go through my typical morning ritual (this happens to be at about 6:30am) of brushing my teeth and getting "courtin clean" as my grandfather used to call it. I am not goin' courtin however so I throw on some ragged shorts and an old T-shirt, slap on my well worn running shoes and scoop up my iPod along with my keys and a small satchel on the way out the door.

Running just seems to be good for your soul. Not to discount all the good it does your body especially for a former junkie whos body is probably craving those endorphins(or whatever chemical or process they are crediting for that "runners high" these days.). The aggression of it seems to help to burn away the sting of any issues biting at your mind and if you run with music like I do; you seem to lose your self in the act itself and clear your mind fairly well. There is no excuse not to get outside and exercise in the state I live in either. For all of it's perceived(some legit others unfair stereotypes) shortcomings it is definitely beautiful here, in some places breathtakingly so. In the southern part of the state are some of the most amazing scenery you will see anywhere in the country. Some even say it is "Almost Heaven". Even in my part of the state which happens to be the "big" city. I jog the half mile to the boulevard that runs along the river to begin my trek and begin to get lost in my music and the view of the river and the mountains. I wave instinctively to passerby's of other runners and dog walkers(where I am from we dont look down and ignore each other when passing on the street) as they nod kindly or wave back in return but my mind is clear for the first time in a while. It feels great to escape from my own head even if only for a little while. I run/jog/walk/run again long enough that I went through an entire playlist of Sublime, OTEP, Johnny Cash, Muse, Foo Fighters, Tool, Pink Floyd, Hendrix, Nirvana and Eminem just to name a few(I have pretty broad tastes when it comes to music) that is a little over 90 minutes long. I look up and am just about to the Capitol building that is on almost the entirely other side of town from where I started. I pop into a gas station for a G2 and to catch my breath and rehydrate at the nearby bus stop awaiting my ride. I hop on the bus and take the public transportation up the hill that is about 3 miles that I was not about to attempt to run. I am not in that kind of shape and even if I was my body is still pretty depleted. I hope off at my stop grab a water from another gas station and jog on toward my destination.

The State Forest Park entrance is probably less than a half mile from here but I have a good mile and a half to get to the hiking trails that I am heading to. I have gone through my running playlist so I just switch it to all and shuffle it. I ran or at least jogged the whole way to the trails but after I got there I mostly walked or power walked at best through the nature of the trails. Taking in the beauty and the fresh air and the sun, especially the sun, it had been a while since I had taken time to appreciate its energizing warmth. I came to a clearing at the top of a small hill with one lone picnic table and a limited, but still gorgeous view of my surroundings. Nothing but mountains and trees as far as the mountains would allow me see. I took a seat on the picnic table and pulled out the satchel I had grabbed when leaving the house. I pulled from inside a little metal pill bottle opened it and dumped the two round white 2mg Clonazepam into my hand.(now some people at say some meeting may say that using any drug could be harmful to my path to sobriety. In my case though total sobriety is not really my main goal at this stage just breaking this hold that opiates had taken on my life. I will add that I do not use benzo's regularly but they are very helpful with the depression that opiate withdraw causes) I popped one and chased it down with my now lukewarm water and stuck the other under my tongue. Threw the metal container back into the satchel and pulled out my small glass piece already packed with some kush I had scored from a friend a few days earlier. I just sat there and sometimes laid flat across the top of the table on my back staring at the clouds taking the occasional hit from my piece.

At some point while I was sitting there alone toking and staring off into space listening to my music thinking about nothing in particular. That Nina Simone version of the song "Feelin' Good" that I quoted in the beginning of this story shuffled its way to the top. As it played I thought this moment in time could not have a better soundtrack. I just felt a little bit of peace for the first time in what felt like a long time. Nina almost spoke for me it seemed "And this old world is a new world / and a bold world / ...for me..!" I almost did not recognize the feeling. It had been so long or at least felt like it had been so long since I had experienced what I was experiencing right now. A good day. I was in fact "Feelin' Good".

Ah, it is like fine wine and gourmet cheese blended together into a thick, decadent, royal purple smoothie. Sitting on the precipice of temptation, I stare the possibility of relapsing in the eyes - our first honest confrontation in months. The air is thin up here and the sun shines bright. As a confidence man of some pedigree, I can appreciate the strategically disarming honesty of heroin's offer to make time disappear. And yet here I am, still debating on whether or not to take that much desired vacation from reality later this week. I've always had perspective, but it was superficial. My mind would pay lip service to its existence and then almost categorically deny its influence. But now, my consciousness is fully marinated in the data from past mistakes and their subsequent timelines. I find myself drawn by less gravity to the black hole, although I still recognize that my jets need to be focused consistently on steering clear of the most powerful parts of the well. The ultimate test will come later this week.

yea i have TERRIBLE anxiety.

about anyting.
about social situations.
about work.
about school when i was in it.
about, again, anything.

i get so nervous and worked up i can't breathe sometimes.
i dont have the best relationship with my boyfriend so anytime we argue i get really upset and almost pass out from crying and breathing so hard. . .

i know i need help with it but its just really embarrasing to say i have a problem with it. and i don't wanna take pills for it..

Another day in thee life of mwah consists of me going to work 12-8 at mcdonalds. maybe visit my boyfriend at his work and well get into an arguement about something. Then after 8 i get home by 8:15. I change into my pjs and sit on my bed playing online games until its time for dinner. Just before dinner i usually snork my perks and pree much anything i had gotten ahold of that day..(not weed of course)..but you know??.. then i tell people that i am not hungry because i dont want to sober up yet. We eat about 1am everynight. But not before we argue a MINIMUM of 5 times, after we get done with our perks. Before dinner gets started we usually go to the casino and get mad that we didn't win or we lost a lot of money..so we argue and blame eachother for that too..usually around bedtime we lay down with our big lug of a dog by our side, smoking sum of the finest weed you will ever smoke...drift off to sleep holding eachother tightly.. i think thats what i like the most about in the life of mwah..being held, falling fast asleep without a care in the world with the lone that you love, like theres nothing wrong in the world and i can just...breathe...

I have a drug test in 5 days and i havent smoked for about 3, but i took 2 1/2 klonopins (2 milligrams each) and i need to know how to detox myself asap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

My boyfriend and I have been going out for 3 years now. When we first met i was 16 and he was 18. It was amazing! Until, about 3 months into the relationship he started to get really jelouse and controlling. He would ask me things like " Why the fuck are you getting so ready for? Who are you going to see?" . Id say nobody just getting ready for school..then after awhile my Best friend at the time told me that if i didnt break up with him she wouldn't be my friend anymore..i was devastated. I didn't know what to do. But i was also wondering what friend would make me choose??? I was so stupid back then I can't even live with myself..I chose to be with him...

So, the next day nobody would talk to me accept for the one friend i had left....

A month later, the only friend i had told me that my boyfriend was stupid and she wished i would break up with him. She said i would be a lot happier..

Then, he told me that he was going to break up with me unless i didn't talk to her!!!! So when she texted one day I didnt text back and haven't talked to her since...

Ive always had bad self esteem even though i have been told i was really pretty...I dont ever feel like i am...

And so we stayed togther.. One day we were at his friends house and i was looking through my phone to see if my mom texted and there was all these text messages of him talking to this girl from pensylvania. They were talking about having sex together and were sending pics back and forth. Bad pics, not just his face or her face!!!!!!! I was so mad and sad!!!! I ran out of the house screaming at him and got in my car...but i couldn't seem to leave!!!!!!!! I don't know why!!!!!! I just loved him too much!!!!!!!!

And i didn't even do anything about it !!!! We just got in the car with his friends and went on a "burn cruise" ( burn cruise= Smoking weed while driving) . And he was living with me at the time so it made it extra hard because he had no where else to go!!!!!!!!!

So after that was forgivin BUT never FORGOTTEN!!!

A few months later we had moved in with my grandma because the rent was cheap...

My aunt had also lived there and she invited over on of her friends...

Her friend just so happen to be someone i knew in middle school..
I haven't seen her since middle school so she really changed a lot. She used to be the dorky girl back then!!!!
Now she said she was a model. Bla Bla Bla!!!

We were all sitting at the dining table. Me, My boyfriend, My aunts friend.

He asked me " Can you please go and roll a cigarette? I really need one."

And I said. "No, can you please do it? Its so hard to do because the roller is like half broken"

My aunts friend. " Here..you can have one of mine."

My boyfriend. "I love you!!!!!!"






HE SAID I LOVE YOU!!!!! TO HER !!!!!

HE SAID IT MEANT NOTHING BUT THAT VERY NIGHT AFTER SHE LEFT HE WAS TEXTING SOMEONE.. I ASKED WHO AND HE HID THE PHONE IN HIS HAND AND SAID NOBODY!!!

THEN AWHILE AFTER THAT I HAD TO USE THE PHONE TO CALL MY MOM.

I had the kind of phone from sprint where you could see who and from deleted messages came from but not the message.

THERE WAS ALL THESE DELETED MESSAGES GOING BACK AND FORTH FROM THEM BOTH!!!!!

HE DENIED THE ENTIRE THING!!!

EVEN AFTER I ASKED HER AND SHE ADMITTED TO IT!!!!!

That was about a year ago now...and that i know of he hasn't cheated on me since....
But, does that even count as cheating??
I am so god damn confused!!
And i haven't felt pretty ever since he did these things to me!!!
I love him so much...
That now i am living with him and have NO WHERE else to go now!!!!
No friends.
No life.
No...NOTHING!!!
Nothing but working at a fast food resturaunt!!!!!!!!!!!!

i dont know what to do !!!!!!!!!!!! I always think he is going to cheat on me again!!!!

He also told me that the only reason he did it was because i was talking to my ex RIGHT when we were first dating.

Please help me i don't know what to do !! i just joined because this very moment i am sitting in my room by myself and he's out with HIS FRIENDS!!!! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY FRIENDS!?!?!?!? AND WHY THE FUCK CAN HE GO OUT AND DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS AND I HAVE TO STAY HOME ALL THE DAMN TIME@!!!!!!!!! I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO !!!!!!!!!

it may seem like im always depressed in my blogs but, i really mostly just come here to vent. And to try and feel better. I cant keep a journal anywhere since my boyfriend goes through all my stuff and really...no privacy whatsoever...but...idk maybe it not such a bad thing??? idk...im kind of feeling really good right now off these perks....

At least for that...

i keep having to close out of this page because im scared my boyfriend will think im weird and/or think i am talking to other guys...hes SO paranoid about that...

Its fuckin horrible and over the last year it has gotten worse and worse. I still try to be normal and do normal things but it just doesnt work. Tonight I went to a party with this dude im cool with I knew I probaly wasnt going to know anyone there but I went anyway. I lasted like 10 mintes before I had to leave real bad negative thoughts and a panic sensation. Well im sure dude I went wth thinks im an asshole I didnt even go find him to tell him I was leaving. He txted me and I made up some BS. Fuck my life. I dont know what im gonna do but this cannot continue. I dont want to be alone my whole life.

What can be done to stop effects of mdma after ingested??

So I live most of my life downtown, working, now, and my opinions about things like poverty and apathy are being formed practically - I wish I could fall back on my abstract idealism, believe me. I make minimum wage plus tips in the heart of the business district. I'm a well-liked character who runs the shop on my own 90% of the week, so people know my name and get a kick out of my quirks. I am fond of inventing customized drinks based on listening intently to my customers, and I never thought my life would lead me to a place where I am happy to be developing a cult around that.

But back to the poverty and apathy, which, in varying degrees, I witness every day. And I'm proud to say that I don't have a philosophy (or even presumptive observations) about "these people" (the homeless, the beggars), and I likely never will - although I frequently humor my favorite customers by making a convincing stand that if only "these people" just did something society demanded, the world would open up to them, concluding with the red-herring aside (which is actually my faux thesis) that giving cash away to the beggars doesn't do anyone any good - ever. And there is solid logic to that perspective - it is a valid argument - which is why it works so well as a conversation piece.

Like I said before, however, I will purposefully remain on the fence about these down-trodden individuals for the simple fact that they are individuals with unique circumstances. A macro-economic argument cannot be applied in good conscience by anyone with good conscience to this group as if their similarly stratified situations define "them."

Today I was walking through the court district - civil, criminal, family - and there was a black man lying on the ground on a street corner. He could have been passed out, he could have been dead. But the observation that stuck with me is that two police cars passed by without even slowing down. I walked by him and he didn't budge at the presence of the wooden clacking of my beautiful dress shoes. Another man, this one white and two blocks further toward the business district, was making animated gyrations and attempting to interact with the passing professionals. Once again the police, who are centralized around this area, ignored him.

I spoke to a black woman who rides the bus with me every night about this, with the dishonest intent of conveying that I was in favor of having these individuals detained. But I couldn’t help it half-way through my typically dishonest conversation and complained that the duty of the police is to protect and serve.

The two individuals I described who live on the fringe of society do have options – a popular argument I regularly apply to homeless individuals who have obvious mental clarity and physical health – but how are the previously mentioned two individuals supposed to deliver themselves to these allegedly readily available options, if the people charged with the task of protecting and serving, backed by state money, do not pick them up and introduce them to the proper intake institutions? I believe that by not even giving the basic attention needed – a quick ride to a facility (other than jail) – the truly lost will forever and ironically be viewed as drains on society, despite the fact that I see none of society’s resources being allocated to them, as these two individuals are too far out in their own perceptions to even successfully panhandle.

Today an obviously impoverished black man, about age 40, came into the shop to thank me for an apparently positive interaction we had previously shared. I told him I didn’t remember, but he assured me that what I told him helped his spirit immensely. Knowing black people’s propensity for religion and Jesus, I told him that Christ still shone in him and wants nothing more than for him to be positive. God is love, I said, and he has a plan for everyone. He loves you, I told him. Then I gave him two dollars. Of course I don’t believe in God or Jesus, but what I do believe is that people in negative situations can be manipulated based on their familial conditioning to not fall completely into apathy. So I have no qualms or embarrassment about preaching the good word to someone whose brain chemistry reacts well to it. My policy on religion will forever remain on the fence for this reason, as it can do good things for people, although I am incapable of honestly being a believer.

I allowed this man to sit in my shop until closing, citing the fact that I knew he was just walking around the streets anyways – and he looked half-way decent still; the trappings of absolute relegation had not yet made his eyes wily and full of fear and contempt. And my feeling about that is that if I can keep him from crossing that line internally, I will have done some good even from a Darwinian perspective – for nurturing pain and loss through boisterous and vocal abandonment will do nothing but create an irate and violent underclass. More important than supporting them financially, by far, is the need to not cast them out with stoic body language and quietly malicious words. They must be fed that which they truly lack, and this has little to do with money.

Some days, I am frustrated with my own lack of a clear path in society’s eternal ladder, and I verbally abuse the droves of beggars who catch me after work only on the days when I am at my least empathetic. But on the balance, I try to do well with what I have to give.

I am sitting here, in a back room, trying to think of something to do with myself. All I got going through my mind is how lovely doing a nice shot of brown would be, but mustn't gratify that want. I think it's just amazing that I lost so much to heroin, but still want to do it. I know that one shot, that I just want to do once, will not be one time. I have done that before.

Heroin has taken me to places so skanless and craptastic. Oh the people I have fucked over. Amazing that my veins still itch for that piercing feeling. (veins that really don't exist anymore, though I did find another one that should work.) I got to come up with a constructive plan. I got to get out of this hole and do something productive. Damn.

It is cold
And achey
And I keep cat stretching
Which is always a sign I'm in early WD

I posted a q about my sub WD intensity (what I should expect)... 150 views and zero responses, I'm impatient but I rarely ask questions on here and I respond to shit so quick so ... Please help me BL-ers!!i


I dun wanna take my sub I wanna kno how bad I'll get. I'm terrified it'll be awful Like 2-3 weeks later. I can't hack that. I can barely hack the week that comes with most opiates of abuse. Never mind the paws which for me are worst than acute cuz of my depression. I have been depressed as long as I can remember ... Anyway paws just make it like double depression and cause suicidal fantasies which is dumb because I'm not suicidal. Just tired of the mental shit every hour of te day. I'm not even getting into it beyond that

Hmmm I have one of my real friends in here I wonder if it's weird that I post all this personal shit. Meh when have I ever cared what anyone thought. Maybe I used to, but being a junkie has given me some perspective on judging people.


I want my damn ketamine and time is moving Sooooo slowewwwllllyyy .... Dopefeind time is slow as molasses. It's not even dope tho(h), it's k, so I should just chill the fuck out. K helps the boredom n shit I just do t too much an fuck up my insides proper. Boo



That is all

so i have been on lope for anout 7 years and my gastro dr informed me that it was causing me too have a fatty liver and i had read that it slows your liver down...right now im off the lope for about 16 days now and i have crazy diarhea...can anyone help me with this..how long the lope withdrawls last..p.s..i know this is a little graphic but there is bile in the d and it has irritated everything under the sun..just wondering if thats normal too...

I'm writing this as a final goodbye. I'd like to say it was nice knowing you all, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I can't trust anyone. Not my best friend, or the people on Bluelight, or even my own family. So I'm not going to sit here and be fake and pretend it was nice knowing you when you're all probably happy I'll be gone, and have probably been waiting for it to happen anyway.

There were a few times when I was inactive because my best friend tried to kill me and my grandma was dying. I made an effort to become more active when senior staff voiced their concern. I decided I wanted to step down from my position on NMI anyways and just moderate Trip Reports - I was told this was fine. Just last night, my grandma passed away, and I made it clear to everyone in all of the modthreads that I would have more time to devote to the site. In the same post, I stuck up for someone that Senior Staff notoriously has a problem with (for no reason, I might add - this person is a really good person and was one of the ONLY people who have truly been there for me these past few months... not a fucked up person the way senior staff makes him out to be.) I was NOT kicked off of staff for inactivity; if that had been an issue, I'd have been kicked off back in November, or even December at the latest. I was never inactive for a period of longer than a week or two. And since around the middle of December, I have made a concentrated effort to log on every day - I was told to stick around to help find NMI a new mod, to stick around to mod Trip Reports...

... and now that I actually have the time to do it and made it VERY CLEAR that I had the time to actually moderate every day from now on as opposed to logging on once a day to check the modthreads, I've been wrongfully kicked off staff. Not because of inactivity, but because I had my friend's back. Senior staff has decided to make an example out of me for being a good friend. One minute I'm being told to help the application process along and continue moderating Trip Reports... the next minute I'm telling them there's no need to rush, my grandma has passed and I have more time now... the next minute I'm sticking up for my friend that Senior Staff hates and was talking shit on... and then, BAM! Kicked off of staff. All for trying to be a good friend.

This world disgusts me. I'm literally sick to my stomach. I almost have no words. I wouldn't have any at all, if it weren't for all of the rage and betrayal I'm feeling right now.

So thank you, Bluelight, for finally letting me see how fucked up humanity is. There is no such thing as friends, or support, or understanding. Only selfishness and backstabbing. That's all there is in the world. Bluelight used to be a place where I felt like people cared... the one place where I felt like I didn't have to worry about being stabbed in the back... or have to worry about the people around me suddenly trying to kill me. But the truth is, Bluelight is just as bad. And if Bluelight is that way, a place that claims to be about harm reduction, then the way I see it... there's no hope in the world anywhere. And if that's the case, I no longer want to be a part of it. I've had enough of humanity. I've had enough backstabbing and bullshit to last me a lifetime, and I don't want to deal with it anymore. It's the straw that broke the camel's back, if you will.

Fuck this world. Fuck everyone in it. I'm out.

I can only hope I'll never have to see any of you backstabbing, fake bitches on the other side. That goes for everyone that's hurt me - my socalled best friend who tried to kill me, all the people who sexually abused me as a kid, all of my fake ass friends in the military who didn't have my back when I was raped, the fucking rapist himself, the people in my family who steal money from me, the rapist himself, the so-called "friend" who was hanging my case over my head in order to manipulate me into giving him rides and money, the detective who doesn't believe me, and every single other person who has ever hurt me. Far too many to name, so I'll just leave it at that. This message goes out to every single person in the world, minus the few I can count on one hand.

To the rest of you all, fuck you. Thank God I won't have to deal with it for much longer. If this is life, I don't want to be a part of it anymore. People are too fucked up. Situations are too fucked up. No one ever has your back. What the fuck is the point? There is none. If there's a hell, I've been living in it. Thanks for finally helping me figure that out. It's kind of freeing in a way.

Anyway, you won't be seeing me around anymore. You won't have to worry about me sticking up for people you hate and getting in your way anymore. Seriously, fuck this -- I'm gone for good. I cannot stand living in this shitty, fucked up world anymore that's full of shitty, fucked up people. You bitches got your wish, and then some. Hope you're happy. Good riddance.

I have this feeling that I cant shake that im on a path that is not meant for me. I know that college is not for me with every fiber of my being but at the same time im scared to stop because I have it good right now. My parents fully support me I have food and weed money I have a credit card they pay for life is pretty sweet. But I feel so empty I keep looking for something to fill the void something besides dope but cant seem to find anything. I find myself sinking into this grey depression I isolate myself from everybody and just surf the net and play video games. I see all these people around me at school and they are so happy having the time of there life no doubt but not me I wish I didnt know what I know.

Now I have been depressed all my life I know that I have clinical depression but I refuse to get on SSRIs the pharmacology behind them is far to suspect and the recent studys have shown what I always assumed its a placebo. I have a great therapist that I am good friends with but I feel like I have hit a wall with the talk therapy I just end up rambling in circles about shit that is not going to change. It really all comes down to choice do I want to die or do I want to live? My answer often changes a part of me wants to get back on heroin and ride it for everything its worth as long as possible. A different part wants one last big rush before turning the lights out a one off suicide thing. Finally my rational self wants a good job and a college degree so that I can support my drug habit while living a life.

Now astute readers will notice that no part of me wants off completly and that is not lost on me I know where this road ends I just cant decide how I want to get there. I keep thinking that time will heal this but it really doesnt it just makes the monkey stronger and more desperate. I dunno what to do anymore I find myself feeling real hypocritical on this site giving advice in TDS about how people should quit when in reality I want to jump back on. Its fucked and im fucked and everyone who cares about me is fucked. Damn

Hands are shakey stomach is in a knot dude says he has the k4 ive been waiting a week for praying he gets here soon. Man opiates do the worst things to me especially these days not having a solid connection is hell on my nerves. dude is eating then on his way I hope. David Bowie is blasting his cover of waiting for the man Lou was right you always gotta wait. I think I want to get a daily habit again I miss the ritual and easy access the trips to the city all the interesting crazy shit that happened. Im so nervouse that I ate 1.5mg of xanax and dont feel any relief its fucking crazy. Im fucking crazy.

Its 8 o clock on a sunday night and I cant shake this feeling. I have come to a shitty realization I will never be happy without heroin I have tried for the last year to forget about it Ive given it an honest try I really have. I really hope death is a relief from the burden of reality I just need some rest my soul is tired. Tired of fighting wars it cannot win tired of the expectations placed on it by a society of miserable pricks who believes they know better then me whats best for me. Im tired of feeling like a failure for not achieving things I never gave a fuck about in the first place. I just want a job where I make enough money to buy drugs and have my own place that doesnt seem like too much to ask for. But my generation is fucked there are no jobs so we are funneled into universitys to rack up debts that will keep us enslaved for the rest of our lives. And for what? a piece of paper saying that im smart? I know im smart I dont need a fucking 75 thousand dollar piece of paper to tell me that.

Its frustrating I keep telling myself if I just stick it out things will get better but they dont. Every morning I wake up and im still just me same old ugly ass depressed dude with no chances. Ive never felt so alone in my whole life no one understands why im miserable and when I try to explain I get blank stares and shrugs. Like I know existentially my life isnt bad but that doesnt change how I feel about it. I just think I would be better off dead now I just have to summon the courage to find out. I feel bad cause im going to let everyone down again but Im going to let everyone down anyway at least this way I dont have to be around to hear about it.

Of course there is that part of me that says fuck it just go get strung out and live like you dont give a fuck. Then when its time to go grab the heater and go down in a blaze of glory show them motherfuckers the way to valhalla. And its a tempting thought see I have this rage that burns inside me I have learned to suppress it but it tells me I should buy an assault rifle and take a page out of quentin terrantinos natural born killers. But I resist cause I dont wanna be a violent reactionary thats not the path LSD taught me to take. I dunno I just cant see myself living much longer for this life has become a living hell.

Tall.Killer Legs.Sexual.Brunette.Female.Brown Eyes.Mysterious.Adventurous.Married.Beautiful Smile.Curves in all the Right Places.Shy.Kinky.Loving.

All the above describe me.It took awhile to come to terms with some.Thanks to some who have boosted my self confidence over the years,as it used to be zero.As I have always thought I was just another girl, but apparently I'm something special.Never blogged before so this very new to me.I'm writing about the sex,love,and relationships in my life.

So at 22 I've been married for six months...and just starting to come to terms with a possibility of an open marriage.I have been with my husband for almost seven years and we explored with a threesome here and there and even a foursome.I loved it..still do.But things took a turn for the worse when I found out my husband (boyfriend at the time) had been unfaithful more than once and our sexual exploring was turned off for a bit.But now after regaining and restoring trust it's back on.Been playing with our mutual friend of seven years which we fooled around with before we married.Last month we went all the way and let him perform intercourse on me and all I have to say is WOW. It was amazing. I have felt a few feelings for this friend.."paul," now it's more that we had sex..and my husband knows he loves me but I was thinking we could be in a little love triangle.They both make me feel like a fuckin bombshell.I love the attention they give me.

So Our first sexual episode was when my Husband and I had drove out to see Paul and stay for a few nights,he lives a state away.We are all sitting at his place having drinks and I am being my drunk frisky self,pulling my shirt up to flash and tease them both and it's working well. Then flashing my boy shorts to them and it's working even better. Then we are sitting on the couch and I'm between them and then I start rubbing on paul's leg and I ask,So are we going to have sex of what? They both had a look on their face like,Hell yeah! Then I start making out with Paul,then my husband (Patrick), and then back and forth while rubbing their hard dicks through their jeans.Then I start blowing paul and I'm going really deeep and gagging on him and Patrick is rubbing himself to watching me be a fucking slut and then I start sucking Patrick off while stroking paul..Then my pants get taken off by one of them and then my panties and Patrick is licking my ass from behind and then I sit on paul's lap and grind all over him and command him to put the condom on and then he inserts himself into me and I'm in pure fucking bliss and my alcohol buzz is making it even better.So I am riding him hard while smiling at him and it's driving him crazy...then we slow down a bit and I just look at him and say,Hi.And hes like fuck you're fucking hot! Then I suggest we head to paul's bed and I lay down on my back and hang my head off the bed and paul is fucking my face hard and Patrick is fucking me extremely deep then I order paul to then lay down on on the bed and I get on top of him and ride him and Patrick is fucking my ass and I'm screaming because it hurts so good. Then I switch back to blowing paul and in my head I am thinking this is fucking amazing I am being a whore to my two favorite guys in the world. Then paul cums in my mouth and I swallow it all and look up at him and tell him he tastes good while looking at him and smiling..and he moans,Fuck girl.Patrick is still fucking me and I then reach my climax and cum and my body is shaking a bit then Patrick finishes all over my stomach and I run my fingers over it and then lick it..Then I lay between the two on the bed..we all spoon very lightly..I could tell Patrick wasn't all for the sweet cuddling in a threesome with another guy.The Patrick goes to the bathroom to clean up and I am laying there with paul and I can tell paul wants me for his own for a bit.I am only slightly thinking it. Patrick comes back and I then jump in the shower to clean up and get out and we all sit around and talk about what just happened and how awesome it was.I think to myself...what a fucking good night!

Sexual Episode Two:


The second time was the very next night.We were all chilling out, having drinks rubbing paul's neck..then BAM! We are on in no time at all.FYI I do need alcohol to help progress to the 3way.It's just what we do when we chill and helps lighten the mood and makes me even more flirty and frisky. They are both trying to remove my clothes and I am a little reserved about getting naked and they both keep telling me to move my fucking hands because I have nothing to hide..We are now standing while paul and Patrick rip my shirt off and remove my pants and then my panties and we are in the hall and Patrick shoves me against a wall and then I bend down and start blowing paul and it's getting very messy and paul cums partly in my mouth and then on the floor and I lick a little bit up. It drives him nuts...Patrick is then fucking me and I then say Patrick,you can't cum til I do..because I can tell he is already getting to the point because what is going on is hot.....I can tell he is a bit aggravated to hear that because it feels so good and he wants to cum bad..but he is working through it. Then Paul tries to take my bra off and I am fighting him not to and he is yelling to tell me to stop then he chokes me hard and I feel a bit light headed then I get issued to having handcuffs REAL ones..they drag me to the living room and put a pillow down on the floor against a column and I sit down my bra is taken off and my breast are getting licked and kissed..and it's driving me nuts..so I am now completley naked and I am still trying to find ways to cover my body and I got yelled at....and it was fucking great! Getting yelled at to stop squirming and covering my body because I am fucking gorgeous was great. I am blowing Patrick as I am against the wall. Paul gets it up again and I then tell them to release me for just a minute and they are both like why? Fucking tell us you whore!I then say so I can get a drink because my mouth is dry ...then Patrick heads to the fridge and grabs a Blue Moon Beer and pours it in my mouth..then he pours it all over my sweaty cum covered body and keeps doing it..and let me just say this shit was so fucking hot to me and them..I am in heaven! :D. I then am forced to be on all fours as Patrick fucks me and he then moans very loud and cums on my ass while I am blowing Paul and I start using my tounge all over the head of his dick then Patrick starts fingering me hardcore and Paul cums in my mouth again and then I freaking explode! I gushed like crazy ..there a huge puddle in the floor and I was a bit embarrassed but they both were like WOW.While all this went on I was still in handcuffs..which left memorable bruises..good bruises. I smiled after it was over and thought about how lucky I was.. Thank you Blue Moon.

So I wrote a paper on heroin addiction for my extreme deviance class now I have to give a 3 minute presentation. Its a class full of sociology and phycology majors so these people could concievably one day be in position to help or hurt addicts. As a representative of our sub culture I feel a responsibility to give 3 minutes of non bullshit propaganda as I figure it will be the only chance they will ever get to hear our side. The thing is I have no idea what I want to say. So im putting it out to you guys if you could tell the general public something about heroin what would it be? If its good Illinclue it in my presentation

[Don't judge my intelligence by this]

Nobody to talk to. Nothing to do but melt my brain with pornography, as the descent begins.

I keep ending up here, alone and empty and melodramatic and introspective and too stupid to express it in any kind of legitimate artistic form.

I used to be smart, I swear.
I used to want to write, but re-reading my journal of drug induced rants degrades my writing ability so.

Methamphetamine has been a part of my life since birth. I lived in it's shadow growing up. The shadow of destruction and depravity. My first memories are those of my mother, having meth induced sex, involved in violence. It was foreshadowing. A taste of the cold.

21 years have passed since my my conception, and I am my mother's son.
I love dope. I have far surpassed my mom's addiction.
I stick needles in my arm. I can stick fifty dollars in my arm without a second though.
I love dope more than anything in the world. I don't hate it either, even though I should. I hate whatever stands in the way of having more.
Health problems, money problems, no real relationships anymore.
I am a willing slave.

But then moments of clarity strike.
Horrified and ashamed of my life.
The waste. I used to be smart.
My mom had a masters in special education. She taught autistic children. Despite her addiction, she made something of herself.
Only to have it taken away by dope.
I've been spent my entire life seeing and experiencing the consequences of dope, but here I am. On my knees. Before the destroyer. I need to run. But I have nowhere left to run to. Penniless, living in my best friends house rent free on the floor, families turned their back on me.

And I used to be so smart.

Today I'm gonna do something.
I'm gonna go brave the city, coming down. Take it like the hardened drug addict I am. Look for a job.

Now! Before I have time to write any more drug induced shameless self-pity (it's not even well written!)

This is my first time on here. I was hoping to get some feedback on my story and if these feelings will go away. I am happy to say I'm on day 6 of not drinking. I've gone through the withdrawal period which wasn't that bad for me considering I drank a bottle or two of wine at night at least 4 times a week. My only issues are insomnia,agitation,frustration and anxiety. I've always had depression and panic disorder and really bad social anxiety. I'm 31 yrs old. I've been drinking since I was 15. That's when all my friends were drinking and where it started. I amm shy and drinking made me feel popular and outgoing and the life of the party. I always ended up with worse anxiety the day after though. It wasn't until 6 years ago I found myself drinking every night by myself so I didn't have to feel or deal with past and present emotional pain. Id drink if I was happy or depressed mad disappointed you name it. I guess I want to know if this hopelessness and depressed feeling will ever go away? I'm hoping its just the effects of quitting cold turkey? I've had strong urges but I'm staying strong. Also I'm doing this alone. My family and friends have no idea I can't and don't want to tell them. Its embarrasing. I want to do this alone and for myself

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