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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.
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
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.
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.
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!)
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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Getting busted by the feds is never a good thing.. especially for making drugs. You are made to feel like the title of this blog. Worthless and evil. 
My friend is experiencing this right now. I grew up with him his entire life. He has served his time, and now can't find a job that justifies the cost of getting in his car. On top of that, he is in court for custody related matters at least once a month as his sons mother skipped town with his son not long after his release, the child and father have a close bond, and they keep in contact but the last time he has held his son was a week over Christmas.. he feels like a digital dad at this point, trying to maintain that bond over Skype is simply not acceptable. However, the judge has allowed it, despite an existing court order. I do not know how to console my friend. He is a good guy, loves his son, whom was born after his arrest. I fear that if his son is not in his life, his love for phenethylamine and tryptamine chemistry will resurface.. he seems very firm on never breaking the law again, but dont you need to make controlled intermediates to get to a vast majority of the rc's of current popularity? Im just worried about him, he has a big heart, and loves everyone, which is likely his problem.
My friend is experiencing this right now. I grew up with him his entire life. He has served his time, and now can't find a job that justifies the cost of getting in his car. On top of that, he is in court for custody related matters at least once a month as his sons mother skipped town with his son not long after his release, the child and father have a close bond, and they keep in contact but the last time he has held his son was a week over Christmas.. he feels like a digital dad at this point, trying to maintain that bond over Skype is simply not acceptable. However, the judge has allowed it, despite an existing court order. I do not know how to console my friend. He is a good guy, loves his son, whom was born after his arrest. I fear that if his son is not in his life, his love for phenethylamine and tryptamine chemistry will resurface.. he seems very firm on never breaking the law again, but dont you need to make controlled intermediates to get to a vast majority of the rc's of current popularity? Im just worried about him, he has a big heart, and loves everyone, which is likely his problem.
Thankfully my best friend seems to have put all thoughts of South Korea to one side for the moment.
There was a moment where I was worried that my feelings went beyond that of friendship but the more I think about it the more I'm sure that they don't.
I'm just a bit protective of him, because he is so similar to me, when he is vulnerable.
I am suffering from frenzied insomnia tonight. I wish I had the energy to write about the things that are keeping me awake, but I can't quite find the words and they would only make me cry.
I'm so very lonely, and I'm so very scared of life, and although I'm thankful for what I have... I wish for that little something more. Overblown passionate gusts to blow the cobwebs away.
It's nights like this that spirit me away on yearning clouds to thoughts of my ex, 1.2, and I play out the happy times like a film. So long ago. So fucking long ago. Will I ever love again? Will I ever be loved again?
There was a moment where I was worried that my feelings went beyond that of friendship but the more I think about it the more I'm sure that they don't.
I'm just a bit protective of him, because he is so similar to me, when he is vulnerable.
I am suffering from frenzied insomnia tonight. I wish I had the energy to write about the things that are keeping me awake, but I can't quite find the words and they would only make me cry.
I'm so very lonely, and I'm so very scared of life, and although I'm thankful for what I have... I wish for that little something more. Overblown passionate gusts to blow the cobwebs away.
It's nights like this that spirit me away on yearning clouds to thoughts of my ex, 1.2, and I play out the happy times like a film. So long ago. So fucking long ago. Will I ever love again? Will I ever be loved again?
So I am 5 days sober and had the urge to document my struggle. I wrote this in one sitting and never intended it to be this long. This was written on a notepad text document and is taken directly from there with no proofreading or editing. So I apologize for all grammatical spelling and other errors to those who choose to read.
-----Part 2-----
Eventually and obviously it caught up to me a few months later. Nobody knew what was going on even my best friend or family I hid it ell. But I stopped paying rent and caring about anything really but scoring. I still stood at the register of my crappy gas station job like a zombie but it was only to punch a clock and collect a check to hand over to some dealer for another day of bliss. But even though I did not consider consequences that does not mean that there were none. When you stop paying rent you get evicted. That is bad enough personally to fail at even the most basic of things but I also let my roomate and best friend down. He suffered for my mistakes. He never even touched the stuff(at least he did not at the time. A short time later I turned him onto it and he is just as bad as me to this day and I will always carry that guilt as well) So he was forced to move back in with his parents for a while. After that I lost my job. I do not even remember why I was probably nodding out at the register or something. I stayed at the girls house I was seeing or random friends for a while. Then the girl realized I was a not good for her and my hook up got tired of giving me freebies when I no longer had income. So I moved back in with my parents but they still did not really know what was going on. The day I moved back in with them I think was the first time I did not have a daily fix since that first night. And that night and the following days were the first time I experienced withdraws.
There are many feelings in life that are difficult to describe to someone else who has never felt that particular thing before. To try to explain opiate withdraw to someone who has never experienced it might be one of the most extreme. Over the years I have had to explain why I was sick to friends or family when it was one of the many times I had run out money and charity or just was trying to kick and they never understand nor could they. Withdrawing from opiates is one of the most painful experiences I myself have had to go through. I have had dry socket from wisdom teeth, kidney stones etc., I would take any of those things twofold over withdraw. Because withdraw is not just about the physical pain... and there is physical pain. But the drastic change in body temperature; one minute you have to cover up with 3 blankets because you feel like you just came in from a snowstorm and the very next minute you are lying in bed in nothing but your underwear with your whole body and bed covered in sweat. The excruciating head aches. The nausea and vomiting. The nagging and ever persistant muscle twitching and restless leg syndrome that seems to simply not allow you to fall asleep. Worst of all, at least for me, is the diarrhea if you want to call it that. That word is way to pleasant to even come close to explaining it. I could only describe it as molten lava shooting from my rectum. And I am not talking once or twice a day you almost have the urge to go constantly and as much as you try not to go because you think you can not possibly subject yourself to that pain again. Your body will not cooperate and you will be on the toilet with your ass hole in seering pain at least 6 times a day(on a good day) Dante himself could not have dreamt up a more torturous state for even the deepest levels of hell.
So after experiencing the personal hell of withdraw and staying in my parents guest room for a week straight drinking water and eating barely anything with only cold medicine and tylenol to help with the wd symptoms because I had pawned it off to my parents as just being "the flu or something". So after I got past those horrible first days I realized that as great as it was to get high nothing was worth ever going through that again. So I swore I would never touch them again, and I didnt... for a while. I went to college like I had planned to and was doing well. I still thought about getting high every day and longed for that feeling again but through sheer terror of having to withdraw again combined with being a broke college student with no hook ups. I was able to abstain and not do anything. Eventually that feeling of longing subsided and I was able to go about life without spending every waking second thinking about it. For almost 2 years I never so much as ate a Tylenol 3.
Everything was going well with school and life was back to normal. Around this time I met a girl who I was really into. We had a film appreciation class together and we would flirt with each other and eventually we started hanging out. Well when things got serious and I started staying at her place occasionally I find out that she is addicted to Percoset. She is very embarassed about it she had some car accident and was prescribed them and started taking more than the rec. dose, liked the feeling, and it grew from there to eventually she was running through her 120 10/325's in a week or less. So surprisingly what happend next is I help her kick. She stopped going to the pain clinic (she no longer had any real chronic pain but was still going and lying to score the script.) I had read some things about easing withdraw since I had gone through it before. We tried to taper her a little with her last script but she still ended up wd's but it was made much easier by me setting her up with everything she needed for the Thomas method
and just being there with her for moral support. It was fairly painless considering how bad that it can be cold turkey with no treatment of individual symptoms. So she kicks and does not even seem to have the same desire that I had to get high after the initial symptoms are gone. We are both clean and have that experience in common. It ends up being maybe the best relationship I have ever had in my life to this point.
Somewhere around 9 months later I had gotten a pretty good job and was still taking classes in the evenings. The girlfriend is still a full-time student and the relationship with her is great. I had just bought a new car and was selling my old 92 Subaru Legacy. I put an ad in the local ad bulletin for $1000 firm. Few days later I get a call from someone who is interested. Turns out it is someone I knew from my hometown he knows the car has low miles and has seen it around and knows it is in good condition and agrees it is a fair price. We arrange for him to come pick up the car the next day. The next day he shows up to pick up the car but he says there is a small problem. He could only get $800 cash today. I do not even remember why. He could however give me the $800 today and bring me the rest on Monday(this was on a Saturday if I remember correctly) OR... and this is another one of those moments in time I wish I could time travel back to and slap myself right in the face point my index finger firmly in my past selfs face and loudly and sternly just say "NO!" ...Or he will give me 20 oxy 40's right now. I only thought about how good of a deal that was and nothing else. I mean at this time I could probably get $40 each out of these if I wanted to just sell a few at a time and could have them all gone in faster than I could get a pizza delivered for $30 each. So that is an extra $400 conervatively that I would be getting for my car. So I barely even hesitate I take the $800 and the oxy and sign over the title. The worst part is right before he is about to leave he turns to me and says something to the effect of "If you ever want any more of those I have as many as you need."
So I actually think about who might want these because I really could use the extra money with just buying the new car and the down payment has put a pretty big dent in my savings. -The one useful thing I learned from this particular chain of events/life experience was that an addict will always be an addict.- After I get back up to the apartment nobody is home not sure where Amy was but I was alone in my apartment with 20 oxy 40's. I somehow decide it is a good idea and not a big deal if I just do one. I mean at this point I have only had one significant stint with losing control and it was only for like 3 months and has been almost 3 years ago. So in my mind at this point it was never even a real problem. I mean I was young that 3 months was just a product of my enviroment and I was experimenting, thats what kids are suppose to do at that age right? And any other imaginable justification going through my head. Anyways the devil on the left shoulder overpowers the angel on the right and I crush a 40 and blow it all by myself in one line. Unlike the last time however, after 20 minutes or so of feeling great I get sick. Run to the restroom puke several times in the toilet.
-----End part 2-----
-----Part 2-----
Eventually and obviously it caught up to me a few months later. Nobody knew what was going on even my best friend or family I hid it ell. But I stopped paying rent and caring about anything really but scoring. I still stood at the register of my crappy gas station job like a zombie but it was only to punch a clock and collect a check to hand over to some dealer for another day of bliss. But even though I did not consider consequences that does not mean that there were none. When you stop paying rent you get evicted. That is bad enough personally to fail at even the most basic of things but I also let my roomate and best friend down. He suffered for my mistakes. He never even touched the stuff(at least he did not at the time. A short time later I turned him onto it and he is just as bad as me to this day and I will always carry that guilt as well) So he was forced to move back in with his parents for a while. After that I lost my job. I do not even remember why I was probably nodding out at the register or something. I stayed at the girls house I was seeing or random friends for a while. Then the girl realized I was a not good for her and my hook up got tired of giving me freebies when I no longer had income. So I moved back in with my parents but they still did not really know what was going on. The day I moved back in with them I think was the first time I did not have a daily fix since that first night. And that night and the following days were the first time I experienced withdraws.
There are many feelings in life that are difficult to describe to someone else who has never felt that particular thing before. To try to explain opiate withdraw to someone who has never experienced it might be one of the most extreme. Over the years I have had to explain why I was sick to friends or family when it was one of the many times I had run out money and charity or just was trying to kick and they never understand nor could they. Withdrawing from opiates is one of the most painful experiences I myself have had to go through. I have had dry socket from wisdom teeth, kidney stones etc., I would take any of those things twofold over withdraw. Because withdraw is not just about the physical pain... and there is physical pain. But the drastic change in body temperature; one minute you have to cover up with 3 blankets because you feel like you just came in from a snowstorm and the very next minute you are lying in bed in nothing but your underwear with your whole body and bed covered in sweat. The excruciating head aches. The nausea and vomiting. The nagging and ever persistant muscle twitching and restless leg syndrome that seems to simply not allow you to fall asleep. Worst of all, at least for me, is the diarrhea if you want to call it that. That word is way to pleasant to even come close to explaining it. I could only describe it as molten lava shooting from my rectum. And I am not talking once or twice a day you almost have the urge to go constantly and as much as you try not to go because you think you can not possibly subject yourself to that pain again. Your body will not cooperate and you will be on the toilet with your ass hole in seering pain at least 6 times a day(on a good day) Dante himself could not have dreamt up a more torturous state for even the deepest levels of hell.
So after experiencing the personal hell of withdraw and staying in my parents guest room for a week straight drinking water and eating barely anything with only cold medicine and tylenol to help with the wd symptoms because I had pawned it off to my parents as just being "the flu or something". So after I got past those horrible first days I realized that as great as it was to get high nothing was worth ever going through that again. So I swore I would never touch them again, and I didnt... for a while. I went to college like I had planned to and was doing well. I still thought about getting high every day and longed for that feeling again but through sheer terror of having to withdraw again combined with being a broke college student with no hook ups. I was able to abstain and not do anything. Eventually that feeling of longing subsided and I was able to go about life without spending every waking second thinking about it. For almost 2 years I never so much as ate a Tylenol 3.
Everything was going well with school and life was back to normal. Around this time I met a girl who I was really into. We had a film appreciation class together and we would flirt with each other and eventually we started hanging out. Well when things got serious and I started staying at her place occasionally I find out that she is addicted to Percoset. She is very embarassed about it she had some car accident and was prescribed them and started taking more than the rec. dose, liked the feeling, and it grew from there to eventually she was running through her 120 10/325's in a week or less. So surprisingly what happend next is I help her kick. She stopped going to the pain clinic (she no longer had any real chronic pain but was still going and lying to score the script.) I had read some things about easing withdraw since I had gone through it before. We tried to taper her a little with her last script but she still ended up wd's but it was made much easier by me setting her up with everything she needed for the Thomas method
and just being there with her for moral support. It was fairly painless considering how bad that it can be cold turkey with no treatment of individual symptoms. So she kicks and does not even seem to have the same desire that I had to get high after the initial symptoms are gone. We are both clean and have that experience in common. It ends up being maybe the best relationship I have ever had in my life to this point.
Somewhere around 9 months later I had gotten a pretty good job and was still taking classes in the evenings. The girlfriend is still a full-time student and the relationship with her is great. I had just bought a new car and was selling my old 92 Subaru Legacy. I put an ad in the local ad bulletin for $1000 firm. Few days later I get a call from someone who is interested. Turns out it is someone I knew from my hometown he knows the car has low miles and has seen it around and knows it is in good condition and agrees it is a fair price. We arrange for him to come pick up the car the next day. The next day he shows up to pick up the car but he says there is a small problem. He could only get $800 cash today. I do not even remember why. He could however give me the $800 today and bring me the rest on Monday(this was on a Saturday if I remember correctly) OR... and this is another one of those moments in time I wish I could time travel back to and slap myself right in the face point my index finger firmly in my past selfs face and loudly and sternly just say "NO!" ...Or he will give me 20 oxy 40's right now. I only thought about how good of a deal that was and nothing else. I mean at this time I could probably get $40 each out of these if I wanted to just sell a few at a time and could have them all gone in faster than I could get a pizza delivered for $30 each. So that is an extra $400 conervatively that I would be getting for my car. So I barely even hesitate I take the $800 and the oxy and sign over the title. The worst part is right before he is about to leave he turns to me and says something to the effect of "If you ever want any more of those I have as many as you need."
So I actually think about who might want these because I really could use the extra money with just buying the new car and the down payment has put a pretty big dent in my savings. -The one useful thing I learned from this particular chain of events/life experience was that an addict will always be an addict.- After I get back up to the apartment nobody is home not sure where Amy was but I was alone in my apartment with 20 oxy 40's. I somehow decide it is a good idea and not a big deal if I just do one. I mean at this point I have only had one significant stint with losing control and it was only for like 3 months and has been almost 3 years ago. So in my mind at this point it was never even a real problem. I mean I was young that 3 months was just a product of my enviroment and I was experimenting, thats what kids are suppose to do at that age right? And any other imaginable justification going through my head. Anyways the devil on the left shoulder overpowers the angel on the right and I crush a 40 and blow it all by myself in one line. Unlike the last time however, after 20 minutes or so of feeling great I get sick. Run to the restroom puke several times in the toilet.
-----End part 2-----
For the past week, I've been off opiates (except for very low doses of Suboxone that a friend was kind enough to throw me). Today is my first day back on a full-agonist. My last dose of Suboxone was over 24hrs ago and it was only .25mg, so I felt confident enough that I'd be able to feel the oxy. That suicidal sort of depression was creeping up on me... The despondence, the despair, the desire... I just wanted to get high. I needed to get high. I obsessed about it. I dreamt about it. I dreamt about heroin and cocaine and oxy and opana... Stumbling upon some insanely large amount of drugs... chopping lines, grabbing a straw, getting ready to SNIFF... and then waking up. Cold and miserable and FEELING MY FEELINGS. (The horror! The horror!) Those long, long days with no escaping...
So I called up my buddy who I usually grab my stuff from but his usual guys weren't around. So we tried a backup. This backup guy was definitely a trip. My buddy, his girlfriend, my girlfriend and myself all jumped in this tiny car and drove to meet up with the dude who was supposed to have the pills. Only, he didn't have the pills. He told us thought he dropped them in this other guy's car. This other guy was a complete fucking dick... and we were all fairly certain he did have this guy's pills. Mr. "I didn't steal your pills" got into his car and sped off after Mr. "I lost my pills" confronted him about it. So Mr. "I lost my pills" jumps in the car with us and we drive to at least 5 different locations where he could have possibly dropped his pills. He searched in quite a few places, let me tell you. Each more illogical than the next. (This kid, in all fairness, was fucking keyed up on a bunch of coke and probably on the tail end of a binge and not thinking rationally in the slightest.) In the end, we ended up going to someone else entirely. But we all really felt bad for this guy, because he has a legit script and this fucker probably stole them. Denied, denied, denied. This guy also called some other fucking scumbag to do his fighting for him... but it was all chest puffing and talk, talk, talk. My buddy was ready to have his back, too. I'm fairly certain our guys would have won... but luckily nothing violent went down...
Hopefully Mr. "I didn't steal your pills" karma will come knocking quite soon.
<---- My new favorite BL smiley.
So, like 3 hours later we finally get what we all came for and I can go home and use my drugs.
I crushed up a 30mg Oxycodone IR -- otherwise known as Roxies, Blues or... well, that's pretty much the only terms I use for them. And sniffed that shit up!
I think I'm just as addicted to chasing down and scoring the drugs as I am to the actual drugs.
It's a sick and twisted sort of fun, trying to score. I like having a regular, go-to guy who I can call or text and meet up with and get my shit, but it's also kind of an adventure to drive around and find new connects...
Blah, I'm rambling. I have to see a psychiatrist tomorrow so I am debating whether or not I should sleep... I need to score some more shit too... but I'm already hemorrhaging money as it is... I don't want to end up in Housing Court again. Sigh. When will I learn???
Anyway, I think I'll do another half of a pill... Schniffffff.
So I called up my buddy who I usually grab my stuff from but his usual guys weren't around. So we tried a backup. This backup guy was definitely a trip. My buddy, his girlfriend, my girlfriend and myself all jumped in this tiny car and drove to meet up with the dude who was supposed to have the pills. Only, he didn't have the pills. He told us thought he dropped them in this other guy's car. This other guy was a complete fucking dick... and we were all fairly certain he did have this guy's pills. Mr. "I didn't steal your pills" got into his car and sped off after Mr. "I lost my pills" confronted him about it. So Mr. "I lost my pills" jumps in the car with us and we drive to at least 5 different locations where he could have possibly dropped his pills. He searched in quite a few places, let me tell you. Each more illogical than the next. (This kid, in all fairness, was fucking keyed up on a bunch of coke and probably on the tail end of a binge and not thinking rationally in the slightest.) In the end, we ended up going to someone else entirely. But we all really felt bad for this guy, because he has a legit script and this fucker probably stole them. Denied, denied, denied. This guy also called some other fucking scumbag to do his fighting for him... but it was all chest puffing and talk, talk, talk. My buddy was ready to have his back, too. I'm fairly certain our guys would have won... but luckily nothing violent went down...
Hopefully Mr. "I didn't steal your pills" karma will come knocking quite soon.
<---- My new favorite BL smiley. So, like 3 hours later we finally get what we all came for and I can go home and use my drugs.
I crushed up a 30mg Oxycodone IR -- otherwise known as Roxies, Blues or... well, that's pretty much the only terms I use for them. And sniffed that shit up!
I think I'm just as addicted to chasing down and scoring the drugs as I am to the actual drugs.
It's a sick and twisted sort of fun, trying to score. I like having a regular, go-to guy who I can call or text and meet up with and get my shit, but it's also kind of an adventure to drive around and find new connects...
Blah, I'm rambling. I have to see a psychiatrist tomorrow so I am debating whether or not I should sleep... I need to score some more shit too... but I'm already hemorrhaging money as it is... I don't want to end up in Housing Court again. Sigh. When will I learn???
Anyway, I think I'll do another half of a pill... Schniffffff.
It took me a while to realise why I am feeling pretty good tonight.
It is because tomorrow is my psycho ex's sentencing and I (fingers crossed) get my restraining order. 3 years of hell, a year of fighting and now i'm gunna be free! I will have my life back tomorrow.
WOOOO!!
It is because tomorrow is my psycho ex's sentencing and I (fingers crossed) get my restraining order. 3 years of hell, a year of fighting and now i'm gunna be free! I will have my life back tomorrow.
WOOOO!!
There we were . . I was high on coke and there were other people a little buzzed. Other people came over to smoke and enjoy the pre party before they ventured into the Hawaii nightlife. I played the music because I like to control the music. I played Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody and it was a non stop moment in life when all people just stopped and listened. Second verse came in to and the entire group without thought rocked out to a magnificent event. I was looking up while rocking out and saw everyone in a trance state of enjoying the moment. It no other thought was bothering them. They were all in the moment. I was the observer but I also was in the moment. Times like this will never happen again. With friends, with strangers, life comes together with nothing more than music.
I have just been released again from jail and am getting tired of this life style. I wish it was easier to just say no to that sweet lady H. I guess if it was so easy though it wouldn't have been such a good drug. Anyway, so I had a little relapse and got caught walking down a street with a sack in my pocket that I forgot about. Whoops. I wish I could blame the police for just stopping me without probable cause or being smart enough to stick the sack up my ass or carrying it my mouth but you can't change the past. What's done is done. It has cost me another 6 months of my life.
Also, at this time my girl was on the run from the law and her parents (they have family in law enforcement). She bailed me out of my position case but I or we didn't get to spend more than a week till her family sent the cops. I got re-arrested on some made up violation. She got to go to rehab. I thought with all the over crowding in California prisons and jails I would get to go to a program too, but the DA figured differently since I left one once.
I wrote to my beloved while she was in rehab and I was in the county jail. It got me through being being stuck in a shitty place. Than only three months into the sentence her letters stopped. I heard from the grapevine that her overly protective parents found out I wrote to her. They sent her someplace far away now, I guess. I wish I knew where. I wish I could get her back. I am now just depressed.
So now I am free. I lost my wife of ten years. I have no one to talk to. I have to get shit off my chest by posting to a Blog, but what a great website to do it on
. (a little ass kissing never hurts). I think the most shittiest thing though is that I really want a shot. Even though it has cost me everything, and I do mean every-fucking-thing.
Ah fuck it.
Also, at this time my girl was on the run from the law and her parents (they have family in law enforcement). She bailed me out of my position case but I or we didn't get to spend more than a week till her family sent the cops. I got re-arrested on some made up violation. She got to go to rehab. I thought with all the over crowding in California prisons and jails I would get to go to a program too, but the DA figured differently since I left one once.
I wrote to my beloved while she was in rehab and I was in the county jail. It got me through being being stuck in a shitty place. Than only three months into the sentence her letters stopped. I heard from the grapevine that her overly protective parents found out I wrote to her. They sent her someplace far away now, I guess. I wish I knew where. I wish I could get her back. I am now just depressed.
So now I am free. I lost my wife of ten years. I have no one to talk to. I have to get shit off my chest by posting to a Blog, but what a great website to do it on
. (a little ass kissing never hurts). I think the most shittiest thing though is that I really want a shot. Even though it has cost me everything, and I do mean every-fucking-thing. Ah fuck it.
Down the rabbit hole I went and this time it would not be a 3 month binge. You would think this is the part of the story where I tell you my whole life went to shit and everything fell apart. But that is not quite the case. It was really a slow build from there I guess. Like one of those cars from the soap box derby at the top of a big hill where the slope is still gradual, heading for the inevitable stomach wrenching steep part of the hill which there is no return. The leftovers from that night which may have been 8 or so I really do not recall exactly. Lasted me about 3 weeks. I was just gonna do them occasionally I told myself. Why should I not have something that I enjoy? I have a good job where I work hard all week. I will be a weekend warrior I half heartedly reassured myself. Like a well earned treat for myself at the end of a long work week. Then the big game was coming on and this would be so much better with a little buzz. Next it was as long as I never do them two days in a row I will be fine "I will not become physically dependant that way at least." I lied to myself. It all broke down from there but I maintained. Well except for with Amy. I mean we lived together there was no way I could get away with the lies for long. I would have thought the lies alone would be enough to drop me. But no, she wanted to work it out. I made more promises I knew that I would never keep and it all fell apart quickly after that. She was loyal and loving but also very smart. She saw where I was headed and it was either get pulled down with me or walk away. She chose the latter and wiser path. I held my job fine. I guess I was what some people would call a functioning addict for a very long time. I went to work everyday I payed my bills and my taxes and attended social gatherings. After a while the "normal" me that everyone knew was the me on oxy. Being high was my baseline now. I continued this for a very long time. I paid back my old buddy who bought my Subaru back probably 1000 times over if not more. I probably put his kid through college.
I tried to kick several times over the years when I started getting a tolerance level that I thought was too high. And I did kick several times... but not really. I would be off for a week or two maybe a month tops. Then I was right back there giving that guy back his money for that Subaru over and over again. He was an amazing hook up I will say that. He seemed to have as many as I wanted anytime I wanted them day night did not matter. I never knew how or why or where he would get that much oxy. I never asked, I didnt care as long as it was there. I never let myself get to a point where I couldnt feel something off of 120 mg. and I tried to only dose once a day. When that didnt seem like enough I would quit... "for good this time" ...every time. I knew people who were banging 3 times that amount every day maybe more. "I am not as bad as them at least." I told myself. I stopped in a lot of different ways. I just detoxed cold turkey almost as if to punish myself and remind myself of the damage that it must be doing to my body if it hurt that much just to heal. I tapered my dose down to completely nothing by myself with nobody controlling my meds(which if you have ever tried know is a very very difficult thing to do.) I found a source for Suboxin and did that for a while. My thing with myself is I will never put a needle in my arm as long as I never do that I am not a junkie. I was a junkie though I knew it then as clearly as I do right now but I managed to convince myself and always justify it somehow. I was not like those guys banging H on Capital St. I was not a junkie I did not even shoot. But the only thing a needle would have changed was I would have gotten more for my money. I was a junkie all the same.
Still I maintained this lifestyle and continued being a contributing member of society. Sometime around late 2009 or early 2010 though that facade came crashing down as well. A new opiate finally made it's way to my area. It was called OxyMorphone or Opana. It was like it was made for me. 3x stronger than oxy and I didnt even have to shoot it like Hyrdomorphone(Dilaudid). The BA was almost as good insuffilated. The first time it was like falling in love all over again like all those years ago melted into that beat up recliner. I had finally almost chased down that feeling again ... almost. But to quote a popular artist. "No matter how much, too much is never enough." I stopped trying to kick after that and just stopped following all the rules... except the needle. Still no needles, I was no junkie. But now more than ever I was just that. I spent more and more money on this new better love that I had found. Eventually I "borrowed" some money from petty cash at work and got caught and I no longer had that good job to help me be a functioning sociatal member. I did things after that that make me sick to my stomach as I sit here. I took advantage of trust built over the years by getting large amounts fronted to me with no way to pay it back in the forseeable future. I pawned jewelery that belonged to my deceased grandmother. Near the end when it got really bad I was stealing oxycodone from my grandfather who was dying from Luekemia. My own grandfather who was in incredible pain at the end of his life. I mean he was a terminal cancer patient I am sure he had no trouble getting replaced what I was stealing from him. But if it caused him one day, one hour of extra pain or suffering then I deserve every second of every agonizing moment of withdraw that I experienced in my life and that would not even cover the interest. I was sick. I am sick. I will be sick for the rest of my life. I am an addict. I am a junkie.
I sit here having just written all this way too wordy, incredibly long story of the escalation of my sickness in one sitting while I am 5 days sober. I am in the end stages of the physical WD symptoms right now there are still some there but after the first 3 days of hell this feels like a swedish massage. I stopped cold turkey again but this time it was not to punish myself, or perhaps it was on some subconscious level, but consciously something just clicked off or on or whatever and I realized I have to stop. Not because of the damage I have done to myself and my life but because of the damage I have done to others. Not just to any "others" but people I love. People I love very dearly and some who I will never be able to even try to make amends because they are gone now, like my grandfather. So after considering all the peoples lives I have negatively affected I just mentally lost the desire to continue using or maybe I am taking to much credit and my body and brain realised I am killing them and decided to fight back. I dont know what it was but it feels different this time. I was never very spiritual I do not really have a fear of making amends to the things I have done to make peace with any god. I am not even sure I beleive in any god. I just know this time I really want to stop and I am going to reach out to people this time because I now know that I am ill. I have a disease that I can not defeat on my own any more than I could if it was cancer. I also have no disillusion that just because I think it "feels different" this time that I will win. I know that I have a high chance of relapsing at some point but if I do I will dust myself off and fight again. Because I am lucky enough to have family and friends that still love me enough to help me and hold me accountible. That doesnt even mean I will succeed. But it does mean they give me the chance to succeed if I want to badly enough. If anyone ever reads this and you have read this far there is a good chance that you and I either share this sickness or you have conquered it in the past. If you are the the latter I congratulate you. Anyone who has not been an addict of some kind can never truly appreciate your triumph. It is something to be proud of you defeated the toughest opponent at least I personally ever came across in this life. If you are the former and you are readind this and you too are still plagued by this disease I hope you can take at least something from my words. Maybe learn from my mistakes if you have not already made the same ones. I hope you also choose to fight if it has negatively effected your life the way that is has mine. And I hope you are victorious.
I think when I started writing this it was so I could show people that is was not my fault. How unlucky I was. All the small things that happend that if they were a little bit different just one little thing and I would have avoided temptation and just been a normal person. I mean the last thing I should want to do while I am in the middle of detoxing and withdraws is talk about it and bring it more to my own attention. A sane person would be trying to distract themselves from the pain not talk about it. I may not be sane I do not know. But I know I feel more sane now than I have in a while. Again when I started writing this I wanted to blame my old friend from when I was 19 that traded me that first oxy for a little bit of reefer. I wanted to blame the random chance that some guy who saw an ad for a car I was selling had both the drug itself and the gumption to actually offer it to me. I wanted to blame the drugs themselves for being somehow inherently evil. I wanted someone, anyone to see that it was the fault of these people, things, events that have gotten me to where I am now. But over the course of actually writing it I guess it was theraputic in a way because I realized that none of that is true at all. I made every decision that led me to where I am right now. I was in control of my own destiny. I am still in control of my own destiny. I make the decsisons that both positively and negatively effect my life. The results of those decisions for better or worse are of my own doing. I take responsibility for my actions.
I tried to kick several times over the years when I started getting a tolerance level that I thought was too high. And I did kick several times... but not really. I would be off for a week or two maybe a month tops. Then I was right back there giving that guy back his money for that Subaru over and over again. He was an amazing hook up I will say that. He seemed to have as many as I wanted anytime I wanted them day night did not matter. I never knew how or why or where he would get that much oxy. I never asked, I didnt care as long as it was there. I never let myself get to a point where I couldnt feel something off of 120 mg. and I tried to only dose once a day. When that didnt seem like enough I would quit... "for good this time" ...every time. I knew people who were banging 3 times that amount every day maybe more. "I am not as bad as them at least." I told myself. I stopped in a lot of different ways. I just detoxed cold turkey almost as if to punish myself and remind myself of the damage that it must be doing to my body if it hurt that much just to heal. I tapered my dose down to completely nothing by myself with nobody controlling my meds(which if you have ever tried know is a very very difficult thing to do.) I found a source for Suboxin and did that for a while. My thing with myself is I will never put a needle in my arm as long as I never do that I am not a junkie. I was a junkie though I knew it then as clearly as I do right now but I managed to convince myself and always justify it somehow. I was not like those guys banging H on Capital St. I was not a junkie I did not even shoot. But the only thing a needle would have changed was I would have gotten more for my money. I was a junkie all the same.
Still I maintained this lifestyle and continued being a contributing member of society. Sometime around late 2009 or early 2010 though that facade came crashing down as well. A new opiate finally made it's way to my area. It was called OxyMorphone or Opana. It was like it was made for me. 3x stronger than oxy and I didnt even have to shoot it like Hyrdomorphone(Dilaudid). The BA was almost as good insuffilated. The first time it was like falling in love all over again like all those years ago melted into that beat up recliner. I had finally almost chased down that feeling again ... almost. But to quote a popular artist. "No matter how much, too much is never enough." I stopped trying to kick after that and just stopped following all the rules... except the needle. Still no needles, I was no junkie. But now more than ever I was just that. I spent more and more money on this new better love that I had found. Eventually I "borrowed" some money from petty cash at work and got caught and I no longer had that good job to help me be a functioning sociatal member. I did things after that that make me sick to my stomach as I sit here. I took advantage of trust built over the years by getting large amounts fronted to me with no way to pay it back in the forseeable future. I pawned jewelery that belonged to my deceased grandmother. Near the end when it got really bad I was stealing oxycodone from my grandfather who was dying from Luekemia. My own grandfather who was in incredible pain at the end of his life. I mean he was a terminal cancer patient I am sure he had no trouble getting replaced what I was stealing from him. But if it caused him one day, one hour of extra pain or suffering then I deserve every second of every agonizing moment of withdraw that I experienced in my life and that would not even cover the interest. I was sick. I am sick. I will be sick for the rest of my life. I am an addict. I am a junkie.
I sit here having just written all this way too wordy, incredibly long story of the escalation of my sickness in one sitting while I am 5 days sober. I am in the end stages of the physical WD symptoms right now there are still some there but after the first 3 days of hell this feels like a swedish massage. I stopped cold turkey again but this time it was not to punish myself, or perhaps it was on some subconscious level, but consciously something just clicked off or on or whatever and I realized I have to stop. Not because of the damage I have done to myself and my life but because of the damage I have done to others. Not just to any "others" but people I love. People I love very dearly and some who I will never be able to even try to make amends because they are gone now, like my grandfather. So after considering all the peoples lives I have negatively affected I just mentally lost the desire to continue using or maybe I am taking to much credit and my body and brain realised I am killing them and decided to fight back. I dont know what it was but it feels different this time. I was never very spiritual I do not really have a fear of making amends to the things I have done to make peace with any god. I am not even sure I beleive in any god. I just know this time I really want to stop and I am going to reach out to people this time because I now know that I am ill. I have a disease that I can not defeat on my own any more than I could if it was cancer. I also have no disillusion that just because I think it "feels different" this time that I will win. I know that I have a high chance of relapsing at some point but if I do I will dust myself off and fight again. Because I am lucky enough to have family and friends that still love me enough to help me and hold me accountible. That doesnt even mean I will succeed. But it does mean they give me the chance to succeed if I want to badly enough. If anyone ever reads this and you have read this far there is a good chance that you and I either share this sickness or you have conquered it in the past. If you are the the latter I congratulate you. Anyone who has not been an addict of some kind can never truly appreciate your triumph. It is something to be proud of you defeated the toughest opponent at least I personally ever came across in this life. If you are the former and you are readind this and you too are still plagued by this disease I hope you can take at least something from my words. Maybe learn from my mistakes if you have not already made the same ones. I hope you also choose to fight if it has negatively effected your life the way that is has mine. And I hope you are victorious.
I think when I started writing this it was so I could show people that is was not my fault. How unlucky I was. All the small things that happend that if they were a little bit different just one little thing and I would have avoided temptation and just been a normal person. I mean the last thing I should want to do while I am in the middle of detoxing and withdraws is talk about it and bring it more to my own attention. A sane person would be trying to distract themselves from the pain not talk about it. I may not be sane I do not know. But I know I feel more sane now than I have in a while. Again when I started writing this I wanted to blame my old friend from when I was 19 that traded me that first oxy for a little bit of reefer. I wanted to blame the random chance that some guy who saw an ad for a car I was selling had both the drug itself and the gumption to actually offer it to me. I wanted to blame the drugs themselves for being somehow inherently evil. I wanted someone, anyone to see that it was the fault of these people, things, events that have gotten me to where I am now. But over the course of actually writing it I guess it was theraputic in a way because I realized that none of that is true at all. I made every decision that led me to where I am right now. I was in control of my own destiny. I am still in control of my own destiny. I make the decsisons that both positively and negatively effect my life. The results of those decisions for better or worse are of my own doing. I take responsibility for my actions.
my 10 year old son is on Seroquel but 50 2x daily and 200 at night,,, and also is on lamictal 25 in the day and 50 atnight.. was dianosed with pdd-nos , intermitted explosive disorder and a mood disorder-nos... he has maxd out the adderall and the vyvanse... and was on zoloft and abilfy with the other two... this seems to be a lot for a little boy.. but right now he is only on these neds for about a month.. i dont see a big change him him?? still lying and stealing and food hoarding and hitting other kids including his brothers.. and closing himself off.. unless he wants to manipulate the siuation like with the docters and theropists....,mybe SOMEONE can let me know if there is lite at the end of the tunnel????
Its such a horrible pateren, was up for 5 nights last week on puff n juice. Had a blast but I have a fantastic job n need to keep focused.. The only thing is weekends are so boring without drugs.. Tonight i was planing to just watch a relaxing dvd. However instead i didn't even do anything but stayed n a bedroom with one other person puffing all night puffing away.. Now it's almost sunday afternoon and work tomorrow is going to be a bitch.. I had my fun last week n promised myself this wouldn't happened.. I fall into a bad habit last year and now only puff n juice once a month for fun.. However, this is my 4th weekend in a row now so I have broken my promise.. I have a lot more control n will not puff before work, however Life is so fucking boring.. Any suggestion, so I'm not tired for work tomorrow.. I have valliums n xanic however, do you think it's best to naturally fall asleep? This will be my last puff for the day!!! If my job wasn't so hard I wouldn't care, but I need to be 100% focused and being scattered is absolute tourer. Kill mee, why do I even do this to myself??
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