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I love how people have no idea that I know anything about drugs. My coworkers are always making jokes about drugs, but I can tell no one has actually done anything before because of how un-knowledgeable they are about it.

My one coworker got cough syrup with codeine in it, then everyone is talking about opiates. I'm trying to keep quiet - I can't say much. So my coworker comes up to me, telling me about codeine, he's like "you know it's an opiate, right?" aha ... just like I had no clue what it was.

It bugs me when they get the facts wrong, like "omg weed is so addictive and so bad for you" etc. And same with acid, cuz apparently it kills everyone.

I wish that there wasn't so much at risk and I could tell them the facts. Although I do find it amusing that they think I know absolutely nothing about it. Just cuz I'm quiet, you know, and I don't look "crazy" or anything. It's amusing

i think i'll start using this

I'm starting to get back to lifting more.. This time I want to see maximum results. So for six weeks I'll be doing this routine:

http://www.freedomfly.net/workouts/workout2.htm

I've been on that routine before quite some time ago and I liked it.


In addition to this I've laid out a nutrition plan to go with it.
On lifting days this is how I'm doing things

Meal 1: bowl of plain oatmeal (before workout)

about an hour later I start getting ready for the gym. I take a scoop and a half of Jack3d before.

After workout: Shake with 40 grams of protein and a tablespoon of creatine. With a 500mg chewable vitamin C .

Meal 2: Fruit, usually a banana, apple, or pear. And a cup or so of plain low fat yogurt. Multivitamin, slice of whole wheat bread.

Meal 3: can of tuna, serving of veggies

Meal 4: can of tuna, fruit, slice of whole wheat bread with peanut butter

Meal 5: can of tuna, serving of veggies

Meal 6: shake with 40 grams of protein, handful of almonds. 500mg chewable vitamin C.


I have a good quality whey protein, I use creatine on lifting days, I also use glutamine.. Tyrosine a few times a week. Also stacking T-Bol with E-Bol.. Haven't used those two before but I'll try it out. I'm drinking around a gallon of water daily. Taking one omega 3 soft gel daily as well.

stolen from animal_cookie

Do you still talk to your FIRST love? good god, no.
What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? peach schnapps
What was your FIRST job? dishwasher at a pizza and chicken restaurant. i ended up there for 3 years.
What was your FIRST car? white 91 ford escort
Who was the FIRST person to text you today? no texts today
Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? kitty (she's people too)
Who was your FIRST grade teacher? mrs jorgenson. i loved her.
Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? des moines or omaha. i don't remember, i was a baby.
Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? susan. we're friends on fb and occasionally like each other's statuses or wish each other a happy birthday.
Where was your FIRST sleep over? either susan's or a cousin's house
Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? boyfriend.
Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? aunt's
What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? try to get my kitty to cuddle with me.
What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? bruce springsteen and the e street band. i was 4.
FIRST broken bone? thumb. i locked it in a car door.
FIRST piercing? other than ears, belly button
FIRST foreign country you've gone to? canada
FIRST movie you remember seeing? in a theater..i think it was the little mermaid, all dogs go to heaven, or batman (the first one).
When was your FIRST detention? 6th grade
Who was your FIRST roommate? rachael.
Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage/ you asked to marry? never been asked
What was the FIRST sport you were involved in? soccer i think
What were the FIRST lessons you ever took? swim lessons..then ballet.
What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home? take off shoes

A - Age: 31
B - Bed size: queen
C - Chinese Food Dish: egg fu yung
D - Dentist name: kimball
E - Early Bird or Night Owl? night owl
F - Favorite color: blue
G - Gold or Silver: silver
H - Height: 5' 6". i thought i was 5' 8" til my last dr appt.
I - Ink as in tatto's you have: infinity lizards on my back.
J - Job title: ughhh...
K - Kitchen Meal or Restaurant?depends on the restaurant and my mood.
L - Living arrangements: apartment with boyfriend and kitty cat.
M - Month of birth: january
N - Nicknames: i have a few. kerrbear is the most common and was given to me by my mother.
O - On time or late: usually early
P - Pet Peeve: backpacks on wheels
Q - Quote from a movie: "run, forest, run" that's the first one that popped in my head.
R - Right or left handed: right
S - Siblings: none
T - Time you wake up: usually between 8 and 9
U - Urgent thing on your to do list: grocery shopping
V - Vegetable you dislike: alfalfa sprouts
W - Wishing for: a better job
X - X-rays you've had: skull, thumb, ankle (several times), knee (several times)
Y - Yummy food you make: banana nut bread
Z - Zoo Favorite: giraffes

hello everyone,

im starting my second cycle tommorrow i was going to start tren ace at 75mg eod and test cyp at 600mg a week. Im going to be running test cyp for 12 weeks and start the tren from week 1 to week 10. What do you guys think, should i change up anything or is this ok ?

Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Sadly no.
What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Cider
What was your FIRST job? Tea girl at a Radio Station.
What was your FIRST car? Fiesta 1.1 Ghia
Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Shona
Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? F.
Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mrs Lees. She was really strict.
Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? I've never been on one.
Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Kay. We still talk, albeit intermittently, I really need to make more effort.
Where was your FIRST sleep over? Cousin Kay's house probably.
Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Shona
Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? My sister's.
What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Made coffee while watching the sunrise.
What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Traquair Fair when I was a toddler.
FIRST broken bone? Toe.
FIRST piercing? Other than ears, my lip.
FIRST foreign country you've gone to? France
FIRST movie you remember seeing? The Land Before Time.
When was your FIRST detention? Second last year of high school.
Who was your FIRST roommate? Shelli. She was crazy.
Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage/ you asked to marry? Thankfully, no. Ross was a dick.
What was the FIRST sport you were involved in? Field hockey.
What were the FIRST lessons you ever took? Horse riding.
What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home? Go for a wee.

A - Age: 30
B - Bed size: King
C - Chinese Food Dish: Sweet and Sour Chicken
D - Dentist name: None
E - Early Bird or Night Owl? Bit of both.
F - Favorite color: Red
G - Gold or Silver: Silver
H - Height: 5' 6" or thereabouts
I - Ink as in tatto's you have: Infinity symbol, swallow, inverse stars, normal stars, clouds, flower, leaf, musical notation, "true to you" on right forearm, "I can rain" on left forearm, "shine reflect glitter angel" on shoulder, sun, triple goddess.
J - Job title: Contact Centre "executive"
K - Kitchen Meal or Restaurant? Kitchen meal.
L - Living arrangements: On my own
M - Month of birth: July
N - Nicknames: Not anymore.
O - On time or late: Mostly early.
P - Pet Peeve: Small-minded and shallow people.
Q - Quote from a movie: "Why don't you just light your tampon, blow your box apart? Because it's the only bang you're ever gonna get, sweetheart!"
R - Right or left handed: Righty
S - Siblings: Big sis.
T - Time you wake up: 7am-ish
U - Urgent thing on your to do list: Nothing much.
V - Vegetable you dislike: Mushrooms
W - Wishing for: Romance
X - X-rays you've had: Chest
Y - Yummy food you make: Three bean chilli.
Z - Zoo Favorite: I dislike zoos.

Over the last three months, ive been suffering from a horrific itchy sensation all over my body. At first it just affected my arms, and the back of my neck, but then it spread down to my ass and legs. I'd been taking ungodly amounts of Benadryl everyday to try and bring some peace to my screaming flesh, but after a while, that stopped working, and instead they just made me enter horrifying realms of delirium.

In the last two weeks my condition seemed to be getting much worse. I would wake up in the morning, and find that my bed sheets as well as my legs were crusted with dry blood, and open soares were forming above my ass, and on the inside of my thighs. Similarly the skin beneath my fingers began to suffer from a burning sensation, and after about an hour of itching, the skin started to just flake off, and tiny droplets of blood pooled between my thumb and index finger. After doing some research online, I became terrified that this "rash" was possibly a manifestation of the staph infection that brought me to my knees four and a half months ago. I decided it was time to call up the doctor, and deal with this problem head on, before being condemned to another month long stay at a fucking hospital.

So I go to my doctor yesterday after lunch, and she took a pretty thorough look at my "problem", and then began photographing it with her iPhone, to send to her sister, who's a dermatologist. My doctor thought that it could possibly be eczema or psoriasis, but once she got in touch with her sister, she seemed pretty certain that it was scabies.

So last night I picked up the necessairy medication, 5% Permethrin, and took a shower. My body has become so raw, that it is incredibly sensitive to temperature, and several times while washing myself, I felt as if I might feint. I then got out of the tub, and looked in the mirror. A pale, emaciated freak, with pealing skin and bleeding soars stared back at me. I kind of groaned and then proceded to apply 30 grams of this permethrin on to my body. When I covered the areas that were open and raw, I experienced a very unpleasant feeling, as if grains of sand had been rubbed into my open flesh. Once I was finished, I stood for about half an hour in my bathroom until the medication dried, and then I laid down and watched Rescue Me until I fell asleep.

The other day I was having lunch with a friend who commented on my face and asked to touch it. She's 62 and still an amazingly sharp woman. We drank and ate sashimi for hours and she asked to hold my cock. I'm no ageist so I agreed. Since I have stopped shooting eating oxy many women seem to approach me. I think I'm abhorrent. They see my paintings, and ask pity questions and then unblouse. I don't need this shit. I \ have never had this happen in such ranging ages prior. I feel like a louse, a cad and a lucky fool. I asked a woman on the street the other day if she was a model or would model for me and she agreed. Has it always been that simple and i have just been too self-absorbed and drug addled to recognize? I don't feel lucky of fortunate. I feel sweaty and tired and slightly sick all the time. Drinking is not the cure although I keep going back to that ulterior elixir.

Horribly rude awakening this morning.

There's a guy that I used to hang out with sometimes in a totally non-sexual sense last year who uses me as his shrink. I've never minded because I seem to be able to help him and he's a really funny guy when he's not having problems. He turned up at 5am and banged on my window and door until I got up and answered. He came in, totally drunk, and had a bit of a vent about stuff on his mind and then fell asleep on my sofa. I had to throw him out. He started getting a little close for comfort and I had to tell him that I was absolutely not interested in being anything other than his friend. Awkward. I managed to get back to sleep though, although I was having really fucked up dreams.

I didn't do much today. Went down the street earlier and got some shopping in. My back is playing up something chronic and the doctor won't prescribe me any more valium as apparently it's "not for regular use" which is what she put on the notes with my prescription. I was a bit pissed off because I've not asked for it for a couple of months. It's 2mg dosage which stops my back from spasming and it helps me to sleep and my back is so sore that I'm getting increasingly grumpy and tired. I might try another doctor and get a second opinion. One problem with this being a small town is getting judged on my appearance and between her and the bitch pharmacist at Tesco I've had just about enough. If I had enough money I would just buy some weed but I can't afford it and it tends to make me get paranoid if I smoke it consistently. That leaves me with co-dydramol which I always have a stash of, but that makes me so sleepy and I can get a bit aggressive when it's coming out of my system.

I went to see my tattoo artist today. STILL haven't got his name! He showed me the design for the first tattoo again and suggested I come in next Saturday to get it started. The guy is a total legend. He quoted me £50 an hour which is cheap, as Kaya charges £70, and he said she'd given him shit for not bringing enough money in so he was having to up his prices. I asked him to let me know how much he'd be charging so I could have the money put aside and he said that if I pay £60 an hour for two hours, that leaves me £30 of the £150 I had saved for other things. He said he'd put two hours in the book but that he'd work for longer than that. So bloody decent of him. I really like the guy. It's not a romantic thing, I just really enjoy having a guy that is on my wavelength to talk to, cos it's so rare. The two of us have discussed loads of stuff that we probably wouldn't normally tell someone we didn't know that well but I think we're quite similar and I feel safe, in that I don't think he has an ulterior motive, so I'm comfortable with it and if I make a new friend out of it then I am happy. One thing I like is that he likes amphetamines too, it's been SO LONG since I had anyone to talk about speed with. Debbie likes them but she's younger and doesn't use them creatively like I do.

I mentioned a few blog entries ago that I'd been speaking to a guy, F, that I had hung out with in past and who I thought might have had potential as a romantic interest. Well, that's definitely not on the cards. I've got this weird psychic ability to know when people are going to get together with someone before it happens, and it's rare that I'm wrong about it. He's friends with a girl I know, and I can just feel that it's going to happen. I actually saw him at the bus stop yesterday and he, well, he didn't blank me... but he doesn't speak to me when other people are there. He'll tell me all sorts of deep, dark and dirty things when it's just the two of us but when others are around I can't get a peep out of him. I can't be fucking bothered with it and to be honest he's really not like he used to be. He used to be all about cool jeans, converse, band tshirts, hoodies. I like a guy that doesn't feel the need to wear designer clothes but that looks clean and comfy. He's started wearing narrow jeans and those horrible worker style boots that are worn on the outside of the jeans with the laces undone. They look ridiculous. I know it's a really shallow thing, but I'm proper picky about things like that. Saying that, who am I to talk, I wear the same style of Dr Martens constantly!!! I know how to work them though

I've had indian takeaway for dinner two nights in a row so my stomach is hurting. That means my abdomen is miserable as my digestive system is sore as well as my back, everything feels swollen and horrible. I'll be back on the porridge diet as of Monday I think... I don't like feeling this way.

So I'm sitting listening to Morrissey on Spotify and drinking some Strongbow cider. It's become a bit of an addiction, I never realised how much I like cider. Two cans and I'm pretty drunk though, cos I'm not a big drinker. I figure if I have a couple then go to bed I should be relatively fresh tomorrow. My friend Shona recently had a baby who I haven't met yet so I need to go and see them. I saw her boyfriend Rory down the street earlier, he was looking really tired but seems really happy. I'm really pleased things worked out for them. It wasn't always that way, but that's a story for another time.

Anyway I'm gonna go and find a movie to watch on Netflix when I go to bed.

I can't believe I'm turning twenty four on Thursday.

To older member's, this might sound trivial and lame, but I feel like I'm getting to that point where my age is starting to depress me. I guess it's not the age so much, but more of the place I'm at compared to those around me, who are as old, or younger. I've never even had my owne appartment, I've dropped out of college more times than I can count, and as of thursday I will have been smoking for nine year's straight. I guess it could be worse, I could be an amputee with hepatitus C, HIV, and no place to call home. My scabies could come back too, that would suck.

Today I went to school and it was boring as shit. My biology teacher act's like he's some fan of knowledge, and asks us to question him if he's not explaining something clearly, or to give suggestions on how to make the class more understandable. Of course some stupid girl immediately raised her hand and began complaining about how the guy format's the class. My teacher then interrupted her and went on an hour long tirade of righteousness in his own defense. So much for having an open mind.

I tried to draw on the train today, but my mind felt sort of foggy and confused, and the line's just weren't coming out right.

I bought this new type of Arnolds bread, "sweet potato bread". I was real excited to try it as I love potato bread, and I thought this might be some type of exotic spin off. It tasted just like Arnold's regular potato bread, and that kind of bothered me too.

So what good came of the day?

Well I stood in front of my mirror. and realized that I'm a pretty boy, and I got some crazy weird arms that are super flexible. Double jointed like a porn star.

The Sequel is never as good...Unless we're talking about Aliens or Evil Dead 2.

I woke up in the morning with a thunderous headache for the third day in a row. The arteries in my neck were visibly throbbing, and felt puffy and constricted, like Day 5 of a massive MDPV binge. I went downstairs and made myself some coffee, then sipped on it while hugging a klonopin under my tongue. The caffeine alleviated my headache, but it intensified the mild buprenorphine withdrawals I experience every morning before I dose. My legs felt as though the thin layer of adipose that resides beneath my epidermis had turned into a lubricated form of sand paper, which is an uncofortable sensation. So I cut off a piece of suboxone and stuck the film under my tongue. I sat down in a recliner as it dissolved, and felt the events of the previous night sweep over me, and I felt sad so I put on Sweet Jane by the velvet underground. Once the film was gone, I got dressed and left for school. I was sure this week to bring my P.E. shorts.

The Auditorium was empty when I arrived, and for a split second I was elated at the possibility that my class might have been canceled. However, upon surveying the set-up net's I realized that yes, I would be playing volleyball.

Once I got changed, I laid down on the cold wooden floor, and did this thing where I squeezed the front and back of my torso with my hand. I could feel my finger's touching eachother through the organs and the flesh, and it sort of freaked me out, but then I thought "whatever". Our coach read off the attendance and then divided the class into four groups, two to a net. We were instructed to practice our over and under hand serves. The coach did a demonstration for the overhand, where he bent his right arm behind his neck, and with his left, threw the ball into the air at a perfect ninety degree angle. As the ball plummeted back towards the earth, he extended his right arm, in a seemingly effortless way, and hit the ball with the heel of his palm. The contact sound was a sattisfying "thump"" and the ball arched perfectly as it was propelled back into the air. His form was exquisite, like a Greek statue showing off a beautiful Contro-Posto; I admired the man.

I'll do a brief segway here: one thing that I've come to find really fascinating, is that in nature, for certain things there does seem to be a "right" and a "wrong" way to do it. It's easily explainable with art, for instance, perspective is a solid mathematical tool that works, period. There is no if and but's about it. With music it's the same, you have scales and time signitures, applied rules that serve as a guideline to making something wonderful and creative. You have to be original of course to make great art, whether your a master draftsman or a guitar virtuoso, skill doesn't necesairrily mean talent. But the most talented artists always follow some kind of pattern or blueprint, from which within they make something unique. However, this doesn't really just apply to creative art. With sports it's the same thing, there are correct ways to do something, ways that are always "the best", some of them just havn't been found yet, but they exist out there...weird thought, but anyways...

So after the demonstration, we practiced our volleys for about 45 minutes. My underhand serve was pretty bad ass, but my over hand left a lot to be desired. I also tend to do this lame thing where I sort of leap on one leg and flap my wrist upon making contact with the ball, and it really doesnt look too cool. Eventually we were instructed to join up into two teams for a few real games. At this point, the suboxone I had taken earlier seemed to be coming on full force, and I was actually getting a little bit buzzed off of it, which was nice, but the timing wasn't too perfect.

All in all, I played my positions rather well, and even scored a few points for my team, and pulled off some daring (or as daring as can be in volleyball) dives to save a loss. A few time's though, I ran once again into the problem where the ball was heading in a questionable direction, where it could have been mine, or any of the two girls to the side of myself. I would try to say "I got it", but like I said in my last post pertaining to this subject, I have a real problem raising my voice, so what came out was more of a mumble. Once again, this agressive girl became annoyed at my percieved apathy regarding the game and shouted "YOU GOT TO CALL IT!!!", which pissed me off. I imagined myself screaming FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU-FUCK THIS STUPID GAME! I kept my cool though, as I comforted myself by the fact that this individual was obviously inferior to me artistically and intellectually.

As the game wrapped up, the suboxone was really coming on hard. For those who dont know, less is more people. I felt like my limbs had been wrapped snuggly in a warm blanket and my eyes were having trouble focusing. I thought about the second Human Centipede movie, a truely sick and depraved piece of cinema, and I started toying with my own perverse idea's. Since I was experiencing an abnormally strong reaction to my buprenorphine, I started wondering if everyone was connected to my blood through a long interconnected network of I.V's, if they would all get stoned, like a Human Junky Centipede..Just one of those things..

So the game ended, my team one, and I went back into the locker room to change back into my clothes, went outside and rewarded my two hours of physical excersize with a ciggarette.

-on a not about the drawing, I don't like the tear, it's corny, but it was commisioned, so there's nothing I can do about it. I'm really loving using inkwashes though, they're fun as hell

Back home I kissed P goodbye for the evening and went in to fix up some a light dinner and wash down my 2CB. I practised guitar a bit and read, before having a nice warm bath, gradually becoming pleasantly befuddled in a warm soggy way to the sound of Keth Jarret on the hifi. Whilst soaking away the labours of the earlier day and noting my gentle inebriation, I decided to swallow down the first dose of Methylone. I had been sensing that I was leaning too much on M1 for my jollys. My tolerance for it had been growing over the month, and the initial strong effects were becoming harder to reach with larger doses. I decided I would finish what I had and not buy again for a good while. This policy has worked reasonably for me in the past few years. I haven't noticed any serious long term negative effects from these occasional semi binge type phases. Thus I took 300mg as the first dose. I drained the bath a litle and added some very hot water. I was enjoying the sensation of the almost-too hot water, the methylone, and letting my mind wander through the altered permutations of thoughts with the M1. I even sparked up a bathtime spliff. It was all at the upper end of blissfullness.

That was the moment my front doorbell rang. Irritated, I raised myself up to have a peek out the bathroom window. 'Hello. I'm in the bath. Who is it?', says I assuming a door to door sales call or parcel delivery. Nope, there's my buddy on the drive -'You up to much?'. 'no, I suppose. Hang on a minute.'I quicky dried, gowned up and went to get the door. I explained to him that he was welcome for a quick smoke before I 'had to go out'. This was the best I could offer. I did not want to spend my peak high in this way particularly, but thought it would be mean to turn him away.
I made us some tea and conversed fairly coherently with him. I don't think it was too obvious that I was extremely high, although he looked a little confused when I started rambling on about the virtues of my EMU hardware sampler at one point. I sat and rolled a couple of quite strong joints. With Methylone, I frequently load my joints rather heavily and these two were of that variety. In my geek shed we sparked up and I fiddled about on my guitar, not feeling very talkative. Obviously neither was he particularly. I was resentfully determined to continue fiddling musically despite his pressence, and got lost in a world of practising odd riffs and musical ideas to myself. I was probably at it for about ten minutes, oblivious to my guest, when suddenly I heard the word 'Sorry' and a flurry of activity. Distracted from my reverie, I looked over in time to witness my pal, 'J---Y' jumping up and bolting unsuccesfully for the double-glaze doors which did not cooperate in time to prevent him violently throwing up a primary blast of vomit down them, over the door handles and splattering onto the floor. A second door opening attempt met with greater success whereupon he stood at the door and heaved up maybe four or five more noisy wretches onto and down the steps outside. I discerned from that point that my evening was not likely to go as I'd planned.
I am used to smoking silly amounts of weed, to the point where I sometimes have to lie down to gain composure. I cannot recall the last time I threw up as a result though, perhaps when I was a student in my early twenties. I would have considered it slightly bad form to have thrown up in such a spectacular fashion in someone elses house as a guest, I'll say that much. I just assumed that he was wise to the potency of my joints. And that as a previous chronic user, he would be well able to gauge when to pass the spliff and have a break.

My mind flicked into a damage limitation mode surprisingly. I calmly told him not to worry about it and relax. Sit down and let me take care of it. I was accutely aware of how embarassed I'd feel in his shoes and wanted to spare him additional discomfort on top of where he was already at. I say this not trying to be some kind of saint. At the same time part of me was extremely miffed on numerous levels. There was the cleanup operation now entailing, which would have to be pretty damned thorough. I mean, having to deal with ones own vomit is repulsive enough, but with that of someone else - who I was feeling a little ill-disposed towards, well you can imagine, I am sure. Also, there was no way I could just turf him out in the state he had gotten to. I suppose I maybe bore some responsibility for the situation. They were exceedingly strong joints. I find that pure weed joints don't smoke well. A small core of tobacco seems to smooth out the smoke though, and that is the policy I generally adopt when building a strong one.
The first difficulty was getting out of the shed and down the steps without slipping up in the foul mess. I managed OK while he sat panting in a sorry fashion on the easy chair. I managed to get out without mishap and retrieved buckets of water which I used to sluice down the steps. I guess he was lucky Methylone is an empathogen, because I did my utmost to deal with the situation calmly and discretely. I remember one irrational moment of horror when I realised I was still wearing my favorite pair of Nike Air Max 1 trainers. I went into the house and put my work boots on instead so as not to blemish them with another man's puke. I retrieved more cleaning stuff and returned to the scene of crime to get on with the unpleasant business. I was also conscious that his sickly barking was probably audible at least two doors either way down the street.

As his equilibrium returned, I had to ask him to stop appologising, and told him that I really felt for him, and not to worry. I remember saying he should just relax and that I wasn't the sort to start laying bad vibes on him when he was already feeling pretty ropey. This half assed attempt at sympathy seemed to chill him out. I told him he could stay until he felt up to going home and that I'd sort the rest of the mess out tomorrow. I left him in the shed for a while with a glass of water, while I went to have a quick wash, which turned into a full shower. When I returned with two cups of tea and some biscuits ten minutes later, he looked a bit more perky. It took him another two hours to muster up the energy to leave though, during which time I started craving another joint. In the end I asked if he was OK with me sparking up again, to which he agreed, but I didn't pass it to him this time. It was just a small one for me.
When he finally left, I thought about resuming my musical intentions for the evening, but my shed had lost it's charm and gained a rank aroma not conducive to artistic creativity. I did swallow my second Methylone dose after he'd gone, and instead practiced my accoustic guitar sat on the sofa by the dining room window with the lights dimmed so I could look out at the gloom down the garden as night drew on.

Something really quite positive did arise from the evenings'events. That is, I resolved to completely strip down, sort out, clean, clear and generally overhaul my shed/studio area. Initially a modest plan to remove all trace of my friends mishap, it turned into an operation which has reorganised everything into a much improved set up. I have improved my grow room, and made it more discreet. I dismantled my PC and gave it a thoroughoverhaul. Threw out lots of rubbish, and fitted shelves. Dehumidified. Cleaned the walls. Etc. The space is better used now. It's better for musical stuff. Room to sit three people and record, even record real drums. I also dug out and set up my old EMU hardware sampler (which I had been thinking about earlier that fateful evening. It is an EMU ESi32, a truly cool piece of kit which, before computer software virtual instruments came on the scene, I used to have hours of fun messing with. I love it to bits and will probably write some kind of homage to it one day).
I wished I'd got round to doing all this sooner, although it would have been a real shame if my buddy had come around and blown his chunks all over a nice freshly cleaned studio. Somehow I can persuade myself that all this has been rather fortuitous. Power of positive whatnot or somesuch. Nowadays, it is a clean and pleasant place, smelling of orange essential oil when the air is not filled with the fragrance of flowering hash plants or indeed one of my spliffs.
I continued to avoid by friend for a few weeks after that, but he began to visit again later, though thankfully I think he perceived that twice a week was more often than I was comfortable with. Recently I have been showing him how to use Cubase on my PC so that at least when he is round and I'm doing music, he can make himself usefull by pressing the record button for me. His moment of crisis was as much a surprise to him as it was to me. I didn't tell hime that I was chemically inebriated at that moment. But I kind of resented wasting good drugs that evening.
Peace Pipp

A few years ago I made a weed based aquaintance at work. I'm not really sure how the connection started but for some reason my radar sensed that he was a smoker like myself. A friend who sometimes bought through him asked me if I could spare a couple of buds of homegrown for both of them until their regular supply resumed. I was secretly quite proud of my produce, and at the time was experiencing a post harvest season of plenitude, so I was only too happy to share a bit with them. I didn't want to sell it though, because I did not want to become anyone's direct supplier except for myself. Also, if the shit were to hit the fan one day, I could honestly claim the supply was purely mine. Whether this would have any bearing on things in court, I doubt, but it's a conscience thing on some level. I don't break the law in any other way except with regard to weed, and occasional exotic powders from China.

Anyway, I would occasionally buy through him for the few weeks between running out of one grow and harvesting the next. I usually bought a decent chunk to minimise running around and visiting dubious locations. I didn't like to score and run tooabruptly, it seeming like bad manners, so we would often share smokes and chat for a bit. I got to know him reasonably well through these small sessions, and from a shy start, he began to tell me more and more about himself.
He lives with his mother in a spacious semi not too far from me. When I visited his, his mother would usually be talking at a quiz show on the tv, while smoking fairly rank smelling superkingsize cigarettes. She appeared to pay very little emotional attention to her 37yr son except to tell him when she needed him to pick up groceries, lend her money or provide her with a lift. He told me that they would move house every few years after a few renovations, and downsize to free up capital and service her debts. She rarely worked. Some of her time was spent painting or pastelling rather kitsch pictures of peoples pets, or idealised animals which she sold from time to time.

The two of them coexisted in this situation, she tolerating his weed smoking in order to keep him at hand, mainly for practical and economic reasons, although he confided in me that she would probably have some kind of neurotic crises were he to leave home. He stays for a variety of reasons. He obviously has a feeling of loyalty towards her despite her generally abrasive attitude towards him. It made economic sense for him while he spent large amounts of income on marijuana. However, his weed habit has made him slightly insular, and his confidence is not great on a social level.
As he bounced his thoughts off me about such matters, he disclosed details about his parents' split up, his lack of significant other for over a decade, and various other things. I'm not a bad listener, and tried to make encouraging noises. He also told me about his fairly unpleasant dental problems originating from a nasty kicking he received in his early twenties. These also contributed to his poor confidence.
Last year, his dentist referred him to a dental training school where he might receive free treatments that would usually cost a fortune to comission privately. He wasn't convinced due to the fact it was a teaching college rather than normal dentist, but I nudged him towards taking the opportunity and he went for it. He was convinced after his first appointment where they perhaps dazzled him with plans for what might result. Also, the student whose case he would become was a beautiful young Asian girl, with whom he was quite smitten. He confided that he was unused to a woman smiling at him while looking at him directly in the eye. I worried that he might become too attached, but kept my counsel. He is utterly polite and despite his at times disheartening biographical details, is actually quite well adjusted overall. Some people become mysogynistic, violent or cynical through parental difficulties such as his, but he is a gentle man of considerable integrity and decency.

One of the first demands of his treatment was to quit smoking. Obviously, this is no easy task, and is maybe doubly hard if you are partial to weed. I was massively impressed that within a week or two he had made the decision to quit, and proceded to abruptly do so to a large extent. A first move is too get rid of toacco (and weed) from your lifes routine. Not easy with his mother chainsmoking consistently, and actually offering him cigarettes! I couldn't help thinking that the beautiful trainee dentist was somehow at work here. He asked me if he could occasionally join me for a smoke sometimes, and I agreed recluctantly, in the sense that I did not want to erode his resolve, but I could see how it would be hard to completely give up weed.
This is how I subsequently obtained a new buddy who thus began to come round on a weekly basis to share a joint with me. I didn't mind paricularly to start with, but as time passed, it became a twice weekly session. My problem was that he would install himself for a couple of hours on an evening, wanting to browse eBay, and chew the cud, with a few smokes. A lot of my free time is spent practising guitar, making music or reading, and of course smoking. The smoking, we had in common, but as for the other activities, well I began to resent a little my not being so free to indulge in them when he was round. I wasn't bothered about sharing the weed too much, until my stash began to run low, but he was happy to score for me when I did run out, and gave me a generous quarter bag as recompense for what he'd smoked of mine. It was the time thing. Also, we smoked in my converted garage/shed/studio/hydro zone, away from my Mrs, and frankly, I wanted to be around her more often. I realised I was not managing the situation well when I started ignoring afternoon phonecalls in case it was him wanting to visit. One afternoon, the phone rang four times from him. I had dropped 20mg of 2CB and was not in the right frame of mind for providing the usual therapy. I then proceded to shut downstairs curtains and creep about until my Mrs returned from work. Stupid, I know, but it's how I'd got with it that afternoon. I was glad that I have no mobile phone, or I would probably had little excuse not to answer. At least a landline means I have a few possible excuses for unavailability.

One particular Saturday mid summer last year, again when my Mrs was going away tok her sister's for the night, I decided to have a bit of a blow out with myself. I had obtained a good quantity of Methylone and been using it while composing/recording music on an evening at the weekend. I had used moderate doses (for me!) of 150-200mgs to give me a nice euphoric stimulation that gave me a kind of methodical but freewheeling frame of mind. During these music sessions, I recorded some covers of classic blues tracks that I'd always liked. I had got to the point where I had pretty decent realisations of the originals, only lacking vocals. Now I'd put down slide guitar, normal guitar, organ, bass, drum parts etc, but I am not a singer. I can pitch and hold a note, it's just that my voice sounds riduculously Yorkshire, and makes 'Good Golly Miss Molly' or 'Shake Your Money Maker" sound preposterous. That particular Saturday I lined up two biggish doses of Methylone, to be ingested once an initial 15mg 2CB dose had made itself known to my synapses. I had finished work at 2.30 pm and was looking forward to having a looser and more uninhibited shot at singing. I'd done instrumentals of Canned Heat's 'Going Up The Country', Fleetwood Mac's take on "Shake Your Money Maker", the Creedence version of Little Richard's "Good Golly Miss Molly" and en epic take of Led Zeps "Bring It On Home". I planned to get really high and tackle them all. Cont. . .

Wow, amazing.

Let me start with some background:

I am a young Japanese male weighing about 80kg and 5'7. I used Adderall (dextro-amphetamine salts) during highschool recreationally as it got me so incredibly euphoric and social, hard working, alert, etc. It eventually became an addiction and I ended up parting ways with it. I would use alprazolam for the comedowns and used it every day until I weighed almost 110lbs. I'm now in college, and have been looking for something to help me in school.

I found the RC scene to seem pretty sketchy, so didn't give it much thought at first, as opiates weere my drug of choice at the time. Then, opioids no longer had any desirable effects on me, so i decided a change in DOC was needed so my tolerance could at least go down for a few months.

The amphetamine RC's seemed like my best choice as I wanted something like dextro-amphetamine, so I decided to try para/ortho-fluoroamphetamine. While ortho-fluoroamp was better for functional effects, 4fa was easier to obtain, so I ordered it. As I often get panic attacks accompanied by severe tachycardia on stims like this, I somehow obtained 100mg etilozam from a vendor that immediately vanished forever after I got my order...too bad, I wanted to buy more.

So today, I picked up my 4fa, stuck my index finger in the powder and put it under my tongue. It burned like HFl acid, and my tongue has chemical burns underneath it now, it hurts a lot. I went to class and 30 minutes after I ingested the 4fa, I felt a slight increase in energy and mood. i also had to urge to take notes. I took my heart rate and it was only 88bpm, my resting bpm is usually 76bpm. An amount of Adderall that would be required to achievve these same effects on my mind would also cause heart rates over 100 and hypertension, along with many other nasty side effects...all absent with 4fa.

When class was over, I went back to my dorm room and took twice as much as i did the first time along with approximately 1-2mg of etizolam in case panic attacks manifest. 30 minutes later, I was high, really euphoric. I enjoyed my work, my heart rate was still barely elevated, and more than anything, I had the desire to communicate with people.

Today, I made a mere acquaintance into a friend with whom I plan to hang out with. The 4fa allowed me to fulfill my social potential, I truly love myself this way. Friendly, outgoing, empathetic, clever, humorous, and not awkward at all.

I am still high, and have not comedown yet orhave any negative feelings, but so far I love this stuff. The euphoria is strong, and that desire to communicate and help others is amazing. This characteristic is absent in Adderall.

Comparing 4fa to Adderall, I'd say it's a smoother, less negative side effecty, more social (like MDMA), stimulant. However, you don't act like a manic rambling speed freak either, just nice, natural, friendly behavior.

I'd take 4fa over Adderall any day, it's perfect, and the high is not so strong that you fiend for more. I think it is my favorite stim hands down, but i may change my mind if the come down is hell.

Overall: 8.8/10.0
Euphoria: 6.4/10.0
Absence of Bad Effects: 9.7/10.0
Social Effects: 8.6/10.0
Comedown: -.-/10.0
Duration: -.-/10.0

-.- means to be determined

The last thing I wrote was ??????? I have been on a bender for two weeks and can't remember going to work. I have decided to move back to China next month and it's been tough on the family.

i just joined this blog, tve heard lots about these an interested in joining. take lots of meds an need cheaper ways to get my medicine. if anyone can help let me know

Any1 know of any raves goin down on the east coat within the next couple of months?

So i'm a month at home, after quitting college. Taking serouel 50 mg but it's not doing much. I have three job interviews in the next two days, so getting a job will mean income and something to do. I had five goals, and number 1 is to get help for my bi polar disorder, and to find out if i do, as my phychiatrist believs, have PTSD. I'm currently doing good there. Number two was to find a job, and so far it looks that by friday i'll have a full time job, either at verizon or at the company my mom works at.

I haven't talked to anybody except my family. I've been damn lonely and spend most of my time watching X Files, eating and trolling Yahoo answers. I also have been staying clean, almost 1 month. I'll keep moving on and i'm hopefull something good will happen soon to uplift my spirits.

a continuation...

The 50 year old American was a union elevator repairman, a very well paid blue collar profession. An Italian American, he lived in his childhood home in the same town he was born in, a stone's throw from the homes of both his parents and his sister. Though he wasn't forthcoming about it, he had had a failed marriage decades earlier and had a grown son older than the Filipina he now set his sights upon. While most cyber Lotharios take as long as a year or more before dropping $2,500 on a trip to the other side of the world to meet what could be a terrible nightmare, our intrepid elevator mechanic arrived in Manila a little more than two months after first messaging the young Filipina.

Meanwhile...though stunningly beautiful, the 25 year old Filipina had never even had a boyfriend. Growing up in a nipa, the bamboo framed palm leaf thatched hut that serves as the average home for rural folk here, she could barely imagine the ways in which her life was about to drastically change. Never having been more than 50km from her seaside village she was accompanied by both parents as she rode an inter-island ferry two days north to the nation's capital Manila, on the island of Luzon.

Too nervous to appreciate the sights and sounds offered by Manila the young Filipina and her parents met the middle aged American, who, at 50, was older than both of the girls' parents. After two days of talking the American proposed marriage. Giddily, innocently, neigh, ignorantly the Filipina accepted at once as her parents smiled, dreaming of the materiel improvements about to enter their lives. Unfortunatly for the newly engaged couple, it was time for the man to return to America, but he did get the ball rolling with an application for a K3 Visa, a Fiance Visa that would allow the Filipina to travel to the US where, according to their plans, they would marry in Maryland.

Away the American flew as his young Filipina fiancee began to sail for Mindanao accompanied by her beaming parents. More than a year later the now 26 year old Filipina stepped off of her flight at Dulles Airport in Washington DC and into the arms of her 51 year old husband to be. Settling into a life she had never even dared to imagine the young lady was ecstatic. From a life of hand washing her clothes in a creek and eating two meals of boiled white rice and bitter melon twice a day...and a piece of dried fish when fortunate...she suddenly found herself immersed into a life of Walmart and Target...washing machines and driers. The novelty quickly wore off though, after a month when she naively asked her fiance about assisting her family as he had pomised in Manila the year before.

After a two day running argument in which his parents and sister berated her for being materielistic and full of avarice, her fiance grudgingly agreed to pay the family's utility bills, roughly $30 every four weeks. A week later, desperate to cash in on his long term "investment," he cajoled the young lady into losing her virginity by vowing to include college tuition for all four of her sisters, roughly $220 per semester for one sister at a time and any emergency medical expences that might arise within her immediate family. Deal closed he now stopped his previously vague talk of marriage. By 2008 the now 27 year old live in girlfriend had begun nagging her boyfriend about a promise he had made back in Manila. Taken by the moment he had grandly vowed to build the family a house to replace their grass hut. After umpteenth knock down drag em' out fights that had the Filipina packing her still meagre possesions, the boyfriend made an oh so grand gesture and told the Filipina that he would allow her to get a job with which SHE could fund her parents' new home.

After quickly discovering that a K3 Visa barred the obtainment of a Work Permit, he took the plunge and finaly honoured his commitment by marrying her at a rural Maryland courthouse. Gaining her Work Permit the Filipina quickly found a position as a receptionist at a health clinic for the indigent. Ironicaly, she would later tell her family that the poorest of her patients were much better off than any middle class Filipino. In any event, her take home salary of $220.00 after taxes went to fund the family's dream home. In the end they built the most palatial home in the village, costing nearly P1 Million ($22,000).

The house sits on the same quarter hectare, on the shore of the bay but where a one roomed grass hut had stood, a three floored stucco and brick building sat among the towering palm trees. Years earlier the girl's father had become the Barangay Chairman, the village chief, the new home cemented his position as the village's leading citizen. The Filipina had every right to be proud of having fufilled her duty as the eldest daughter of the family. Grateful to her American husband for having brought her to the US and then giving her permission to work and send virtually all her earnings home to her family, the Filipina eventually setttled into a routine, content that she was now finally able to help provide for her family.. This gratitude led to the happiest period in their marriage. However, as is often said, all things come to an end.

The huge new house in Barangay Punta sat almost entirely empty and left the family unable to even obtain the most basic of furnishings, nor even able to pay their increased monthly bills. The dutiful daughter continued wiring home virtually 100% of her meagre earnings

a continuation...


After finally picking up Manesses, Rizza's brother, from his late arriving ferry in Nasipit we drove the fifteen minutes it took to reach a quiet village, Punta. Southeast Asian municipalities are structured very differently than their Western counterparts. In this part of the world the basic unit of governance is the village. In Cambodia they call it the "commune," while in Malaysia it is the "kampong," and here, in the Philippines, it is the "barangay." A number of villages compose a single municipality even if there are great distances between villages.

Barangay Punta, or Punta Village, is nestled along a small palmtree lined bay filled with the turquoise and azure waters one finds all over postcards and travel brochures. Each village is seperately governed by a Barangay Chairman, or Barangay Captain and a Council all of whom are elected in extremely violent campaigns. The propetier of the cellphone store had been the Barangay Chairman but had reached the 9 year limit and had to step down in the September 2010 Election. Usually, such politicians will place a spouse or child in that position as a seat warmer since incumbency is virtually guaranteed at the village level due to the tribal nature of ethnicities here.

Unfortunately for the man, he set his sights upon a Municipal Councilor seat and instead of placing his wife into the Barangay Chairmanship, he simply nodded his assent as she staked herself in a campaign for Barangay Councilor, not wanting to deal with the inherent violence and organised criminality one must deal with as Barangay Chairperson. Well as luck would have it both failed in their campaigns though one daughter- one of the two I had seen walking into the shoppe- did emerge victoriously in that campaign, winning the SK Election.

SK, or Sangguniang Kabataan, translates loosely as "Youth Council." Each village has a parallel government composed of young people ages 15 to 21. The SK Chairperson, in this case the daughter I mentioned, gets an ex oficio seat on the Barangay Council. Guessing most reading this have no knowledge of Latin and far less knowledge about poli sci, the term "ex oficio" basically means that they have Observer Status; they can engage in debate but never vote, present to hold forth on the views of the SK constituency, the village youth.

So the daughter, named Apple, busies herself while her parents strategise to regain control of the village in the 2013 Barangay Elections. Aside from the little cellphone shoppe the family has no means of support. The eldest daughter, now 30, also a beauty queen, had gone into the nefarious abyss of cyber dating in 2006, and had quickly met a 49 year old elevator mechanic from Maryland in the US. Though 25 at the time, she quickly agreed to marry the nearly 50 year old American without ever having met him.

I really only learned about cyber dating and its trailer park cousin, Mail Order Brides, after moving here in 2007. It is a bit strange because of course Jews engage in Arranged Marriages which is something similar...except that in that case parents pick who one marries and inevitably it will be one raised exactly the same as you with all the same values and expectations...if not a first cousin or uncle (yes uncles and nieces DO marry in our culture).

In cyber dating though, it seems to me to be a real emotional...AND financial minefield. The really mystifying thing for me, especially vis a vis Western men and Filipinas in the whole shroud of ignorance. I mean, if you are specifically seeking a lover from a foreign culture, how could you not seriously research? In looking at ex pat websites I regularly see Western men make such thought provoking comments as, "Filipinas happily marry 75 year old Western men because Philippine Culture teaches them to respect their elders." Uh...it also teaches them to respect water buffalo but for the life of me I cannot recall ever hearing of any Filipinas riding down the aisle on one..."Filipinas are not at all into Womens Lib and only want to serve their husbands and home." Riiiiight, that is why they struggle to earn their Bachelors before age 20...just to bring you a cold one and serve it to you on her knees." I could easily go on and on about stupid stereotypical misconceptions about Filipinas but alas, my point is that if one aims to go that route, wouldnt it make sense to actually learn about Philippine Culture?

One thing anyone interested in Filipinas absolutely needs to learn is that Filipinos pool their resources and are absolutely dedicated to the welfare of their extended families. Unless you marry a Filipina from a very wealthy family you can count on supporting her siblings, parents, and grandparents. In my own case, Rizza comes from a wealthy family so that I have never had to deal with that but virtually any girl online will be one step removed from what Westerners would see as mind bending poverty.

So it was with this couple, the nearly 50 year old American from Maryland and the 25 year old beauty queen in Nasipit on Mindanao.


to be continued...

Today, i am in the usual predicoment of either having french vinila, or fully cafinated coffee, boaring subject i know, others....
I am 18, i figure i can at least try to make an impression on people first b4 they think somthing bad about me,
truth be told, i experement with alot of dilirants, and hallucinogens, such as, Dxm, Dph, 2c-e, Lsd, Lsa, Mescaline, Ketamine, etc.
I might make an impression that im a druggie, but thats NOT how i see it, its merley an alternative reality!

decide to hook them up with whatever it is their after. I dont know about you but I dont just do it for shits and giggles. I always try to make something out of it. Weather its a hoot, a rail, or a bud. Depending on the circumstances I am able to do very quite well at making myself a worth while reward.. I just got back from doing one of my personal best hussles ive done yet. Buddy (my custy) wanted a quarter oz (2 8balls). He goes what do you pay for a quarter around here $500? and I go Yeah thats what I usually pay. Really I only pay $400 So thats $100 profit in my pocket so far. Before I give him his product I take a half and put it in my pocket. I got the connection, I get him what he wants, I take the risk. So taking that half is....uh brain malfunction...I cant think of the proper statement that would go here but yeah I earned that half. So we get back to his hotel room I throw down buddys product and he says Right on man scores me 2 halves and gives me a $20 bill. So Im putting my shoes on gettin ready to head out and buy a pipe, buddy says You will be up later eh? Cuz ill probably be calling you again if thats ok. I say Yeah man call me any time id be more than happy to help you out.

So what u guys think did I do pretty good er what?

$120 Cash and a gram and a half. Best part is we were in a cab the whole time so that rocks my socks.

Feel free to share similar stories and whatever

and so are you

does this work?

My sister admitted to me the other day that she told my fucking ex that she loves him, and he has the same feelings for her. According to her they will never be together due to certain factors but I really don't believe that. I'm sure she's fucked around with him already. She will be moving into a house with him and a friend soon. I am speechless. My sister was one of my best friends. Why the fuck would a best friend fall in love with someone who abused you mentally and emotionally for over a year, verbally insulted you, and nearly poisoned you with drugs.
I am tired of being unable to trust anyone in my life. Almost every single person who I have let close to me has fucked me over in some way. Even my family. I was extremely close and trusting of my sister up until last month. I can sadly no longer say that I feel she is my "sister."
My ex once said to me that in life, you can only trust 1% of the people in your life. He said that people change, and that in a few more years my friend circles will have probably changed completely aside from a few people, and those few people will also eventually dwindle until there are only a select few left, the 1%. But I don't believe that anymore. I believe now that I AM that one percent. All that life has taught me in the past few years is that the only person you can trust, is yourself. No one else matters.
Too many of my family, friends, and past boyfriends have lied to me, used me, and hurt me. I'm really fucking sick of it. It's always the people who are closest to you that hurt you the most. So why should I bother to let anyone in from this point onwards. I won't have any of these problems if I push everyone away from me.

When I ordered broadband I promised myself I would start writing in my blog more. At the moment I only tend to write in it when I'm having a particularly emotional and stressful time. I feel like it would be a really good idea to try and document days when things aren't quite so awful... because I feel like I focus only on the hard times.

I'm doing administrative duties at my work which means that I don't have to sit and answer customer queries by telephone. This makes me happy because I'm great at admin and pretty shit at phone calls. My days pass much more quickly than when I'm on the phone which is obviously a good thing. I'm working between 8am and 4pm this week so I get finished up at a decent time which allows me the evening to myself.

Mostly in the evenings I sit and watch films or tv. Sometimes I listen to music or play my guitar and sing. I post things on my Tumblr blog. It's rare that I see anyone during the week unless it's at work, or at the supermarket, or on my way home from work. Some might say it's a bit of a lonely life. I guess to some extent it is but I feel happy this way. If I wanted to see people I could, but I'm very much a lone wolf and I need this time alone to restore myself.

I got a lift with Stephen after work so that was great as I didn't have to get a bus.

Bumped into Colm (my best friend) at the supermarket. He gave me a lift up the road which was great. He went home though, didn't stay, he said his ear is playing up. He's got Menieres and it makes him pretty miserable. He's so vulnerable sometimes, I just want to give him a big hug. He and his fiancee live in seperate towns and they only seem to spend weekends together. They've had a really tough time and it's really affected him. To be honest I'm not really convinced they should be together but I guess he doesn't really share the good times with me, he only really talks about things when they are bad, which has been most of the last two years so I guess my view is biased. Don't get me wrong, I like his fiancee, I was friends with her and it was me that introduced them... but I just feel that if after two years and countless break-ups, and her inability to understand him or emotionally support him... it's just not right. I guess just because things don't look good from the outside doesn't mean they aren't good when you're in the relationship. It's just that I also know that people stay in destructive relationships because they think that love is sometimes enough to salvage things. From experience sometimes love isn't enough and love can destroy just as easily as hatred can. I sometimes think that it can't be right that when he's depressed, when he's ill, all that stuff... he comes to me. I know that I'm his best friend and that's why he does it but sometimes I feel like if I was his fiancee I would hate it if my guy had such a close emotional bond with another female. Colm and I are so close that I always know when there's something wrong even if I haven't seen him. I can tell when he's not sleeping, I know when he's going to have a Meniere's attack. We text each other randomly at the same time. It's me that he texts at 4am when he's feeling shitty about life, not her. And it should be her. But I love him, and he loves me, and we've always looked after each other. I couldn't ever let him down. When I met him I was in a real state and it took tough love from him to bring me back to anything even resembling normality. I'm still what seems a long way from ok but I dread to think what might have happened if we hadn't met. I met him just a few weeks after my ex finished with me, and a week after my friend got killed in an accident. Randomly I started talking to him one night outside a pub when I was out drinking with my friends. We'd all got together to support each other and it felt like drinking was the only way we could try and cope at that point. I started talking to him and it turned out he knew my friend too. In some ways it was almost fate that we met. If it hadn't been for Murray I don't know if Colm and I would be so close. Although I would do just about anything to bring Murray back. He was such a genuinely good person and what happened was so awful, so tragic, and so needless.

I've imposed a bit of a Facebook blackout. I get so sick of it, it seems like such a good way of communicating but it stresses the fuck out of me. I used to love interacting with people through social media, I "know" so many interesting people but now that it's full of people that I have met in real life I just can't stand it. I got rid of it for at least three months but ended up going back on as I do like posting lots of music and photographs from events that I've taken my camera to. I think it's because of F. He's a guy that I hung out with a few times over the last few years. I really liked him but he's given me such short shrift and he only seems to speak to me when it suits him and I can't be bothered with it.

I think I've come to the conclusion that although I'm lonely as fuck I just don't have the ability to deal with a guy at the moment. My heart is so battered and bruised that sometimes I don't know if I will ever be ok again. I've had one great love in my life (Cub) and I don't think anything could ever reach that level of desire and love. I'm blatantly not equipped with the social skills to have a successful relationship. I'm bloody crazy. Guys don't tend to understand me. I push people away. I destroy love. I am not willing to go through that again and maybe I just don't deserve it. I put Cub through so much.

The only salvation that I really have is music. Singing is about the only thing that fills that space in my soul if only for a few minutes. Listening to music that speaks to me, like Morrissey, and the Cure, things like that... they make me feel things and it's ok because it's safe when a song evokes emotion. It's only dangerous when a person evokes emotion.

I suppose I should go and try to get settled for bedtime. I'm having a can of cider and listening to Christina Perri. Bit pop oriented but her song "the lonely" really speaks volumes for how I feel right now. I slept in for work today so I need to be in on time tomorrow as I had my appraisal today and it went much better than I had expected. I don't want to let them down. I need to finish at 4pm so that I can pick up my prescription and drop in to see how my tattoo design is coming along. I feel like once the tattoo is being done that I will start to feel better. Sometimes I feel that when I get tattooed it marks an ending of a time in my life and the start of a new era. It sounds a bit sick but sometimes the pain helps. I used to self harm when I was younger. I couldn't do it now, even if I was tempted, but I have to admit that the pain of a tattoo helps me release a bit of the anger and grief that I feel for some of the things that have got locked up inside of me.

There's things that have happened to me that people don't know about, and that haunt me. I'm starting to learn how to let them go... but I feel so bad about myself that sometimes it's easier to beat myself up with things I couldn't control because I feel like I deserve to be punished for having been a shitty person for so long. I wish I had a chance to absolve my past. There's so much that I'd do differently. I know I can't change the past... but I don't know how to start over.