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To my husband. Dana Wesson who pasted in 1998.
You are on my mind hard today, so I wanted to write this out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTKZ-GUefVM

Ani DiFranco - Pulse

you crawled into my bed that night
like some sort of giant insect
and i found myself spellbound
at the sight of you,
beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff
bluffing your way into my mouth
behind my teeth, reaching for my scars-
that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home

that night you leaned over
and threw up into your hair
and i held you there, thinking-
i would offer you my.....pulse
if i thought it would be useful
i would give you my breath,
except,
the problem with death
is that we have some hundred years
and then they can build buildings on our only bones
100 years, and then your grave is not your own
and we lie in out beds, and our graves
unable to save ourselves
from the quaint tragedies we invent- and undo,
from the stupid circumstances we slalom through

and i realized that night that the hall light,
which seemed so bright when you turned it on,
is nothing-
compared to the dawn
which is nothing-
compared to the light
which seeps from you while you're sleeping,
cocooned in my room-
beautiful and grotesque,
resting

that night we got kicked out of two bars
and laughed our way home

i thought-
i would offer you my pulse,
i would give you my breath
i would offer you my pulse,
i would give you my breath

Just a thought. Has anyone one of you ever really thought about the changes we all go through? Like how all of our hearts change with experience. This song by Evanescence, makes me think. Read this and go into deep thought for me and really try to remember things. Things that really only our innocent side of ourselves remember. Real forgiveness. Get back in touch with our inner child.


Fields Of Innocence

I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now

Where has my heart gone
An uneven trade for the real world
oh I...
I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back
Somehow it seems colder now

Where has my heart gone
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
oh why...
I want to go back to
Believing in everything


Ever just feel like you have lost some of your heart by cold truths of the world. Ever want to find your heart. I want to try to go back to when it was taken and find ways of slowly making it return to me. I often wonder where my own heart has gone. I try to go back to when I felt I lost it, and I am still trapped in unknowns. I am the stranger within myself. So I need to remember where my heart is and get it back, and I would help anyone else who wants to do this very same thing. Anyone ever feel like this? I am trying to remember...... why I am afraid to fight back really anymore. I need to stop trying to escape my problems by burying them instead of facing them. Lets face them together. It will help me still see the good in people, and some of you as well. I wonder if I am alone in how I feel...... Lets see how this turn of events go. I hate feeling like a stranger, I want to believe in everything.

I have this feeling like I was put on this earth to do something big to fight for a cause to make a differance to help people. I know many people have such delusions of granduer but what seperates them from the people who do make a differance? For every Nat Turner there a million nameless dead revolutionarys who made fuck all of a differance. I see this country falling farther and farther towards facism and I feel compelled to make a stand draw that line in the sand I dont even necessarily mean violently but I also am beginning to understand that violence and power is all that many humans understand as Moa said power is derived from the barrel of a gun. I know there is something to be said about being a good person and helping those around you as best you can and just trying to weather the storm of things that seem to be out of your control but, at the same time I feel as if its a copout. It seems we are living in a transitional time and its very possible that what we choose to do today will have reprocussions on the very fate of humanity.

edit wanted to make clear that I am not advocating unprovoked violence.

I've been putting off writing this blog, even though I know I need to. Everytime I go to write it, it's like I get a mental block or something. But I'm going to force myself to write it anyways, since it's the reason I might be disappearing for short (but random) periods of time.

Most of you already know I suffered a minor concussion 3 weeks ago. Something happened Friday night that I've been shying away from talking about it for obvious reasons. My best friend of 6 years, Giselle, knew I had a concussion and was still recovering. After coming back from the party we were at, I went to her bathroom to lay down on the tile. She came in after a while, saying her boyfriend needed to use it. I told her to give me a minute. She made some stupid comment about me wanting to see her boyfriend in the bathroom and said "Get the fuck up now." I told her she was acting like a bitch, she grabbed me by the hair, I bit her leg to try to get her to let go, she starting pounding my head in, and I don't remember anything after that. Except I came to at one point and felt something wet coming out of my ear, and hearing small snatches of "I'm going to fucking kill you", "Fucking bitch", etc. Some part of my brain registered that I was bleeding out of my ear, and that this was bad. I said something along the lines of, "There's blood coming out of my ear, I need someone to call an ambulance." I noticed her start focusing on hitting that ear and my original concussion site before I lost consciousness again; the bitch was literally trying to kill me. I don't remember anything else, the things I do remember (which isn't much during or after the attack), seem far away and blurry.

My friend said her boyfriend pulled her off of me shortly after I said that... I guess he finally decided to take note of the fact that I was already unconscious. It pisses me the fuck off that they were watching and didn't do anything. She was pounding my head in for about 10 minutes before anyone did anything, and it was only because I was able to come to for a few seconds and say that I needed medical attention. I cannot wrap my head around this. I feel a lot of rage lapping at the surface though, but I'm shying away from it. My friend also told me later that she pushed me into a glass table, which broke. He also mentioned she almost killed me, and I had to bite my tongue from asking him why the fuck he let it go on for so long then. Honestly, I want to know what she had to prove by doing this to someone ten times smaller than her. The crazy bitch is 22, almost 23 years old. It's not high school. In the adult/professional world, things like this just make you look trashy. I'm really little - everyone knows I wouldn't win most fights, and I'll be the first to admit it - so what the fuck is the point of attacking me?

The ambulance took me to the ER and the police came, both of which I don't remember. I have a ruptured eardrum, hearing loss in my left ear, a concussion on top of a concussion & all of the post-concussive symptoms that come with it x 10, bruises and cuts all over my body (from the table?), my entire face is swollen, my jaw is fucked up and I can't chew or open my mouth without being in excruciating pain, bumps all over my head and forehead, and scratches all over my face and neck. As far as the actions I'm taking against her: I'm pressing charges - it's being sent up to the D.A. and treated as an attempted murder case and suing the shit out of her. She also works for my therapist, so I called him to let him know what happened and that I refused to continue seeing him if she worked there. He said he would speak to her about it, but he wants to hear her side of the story first. BTW, I don't know what the fuck he needs to speak to her about - she almost killed one of his clients - that should be grounds for termination in and of itself. IT'S A GODDAMN PSYCHOLOGIST'S OFFICE. Why would you let someone work there who has caused one of your clients extreme physical and PSYCHOLOGICAL trauma? I don't get it. And right now, I really need to talk to him more than ever. What the FUCK.

See, this is why I haven't been talking about it. Because when I talk about it, I have to think about it. And when I think about it, I have to acknowledge it actually happened... which means acknowledging how close I was to dying that night... that my best friend is the one who almost caused it... that no one watching cared enough to act sooner... and that it's highly possible no one else cares whether I live or die either. I don't want to accept these things or deal with those feelings yet. But I know that at some point, I'm going to have to allow myself to truly accept these things... the fact that I almost died is the big one that keeps trying to push through, but I'm not letting myself go there yet. It's also hard knowing that no one really cares what I'm dealing with. My family isn't being supportive at all. I'm just putting it off, I guess because I know that it's going to completely pull me under and I'm going to be in a very dark and lonely place. Last time I dealt with something traumatic, it took me a year, and I came out of it with a whole new set of distrust towards people and pretty severe PTSD. And that's what pulled me into addiction in the first place; I'm barely just getting my life back on track. I think that's why I'm putting it off for so long. I have no idea how this is truly going to affect me and I'm scared to find out.

But at least I have Bluelight this time. I feel more comfortable here right now. Probably because I know I can't trust anyone. People in my life say they care, but I don't believe them anymore. How do I know that everyone isn't harboring some sort of secret, irrational resentment towards me, and they're not all just waiting for the perfect opportunity to act on it? I mean, I didn't know that my "best friend" of 6 years secretly hated me so much as to not care that she was literally killing me... all because she was irrationally jealous. If anything, I was extra careful around him - I've been walking on eggshells around him for two years, ever since she punched me in the face for accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom two years ago when I was drunk. I've been more careful than I should have had to be around my "best friend's" boyfriend, even though she knows perfectly well that I have never in my life gone after ANY of my friend's boyfriends (even though she's done it to me twice). And yet her other friends slap his ass and she doesn't do shit. WTF.

But she's really pretty too... if you take away her ugly personality... so I don't understand it. People have always said I'm prettier than her, but never around her, and I always thought we were equal as far as looks go. I never said or did anything to make her feel like I thought I was better than her in any way. I always complimented her and stuff. Even if I did think that, I'm not a stuck up bitch and wouldn't show it (although she is), because looks aren't everything (obviously). So I can't understand her jealousy, although I keep trying to. I've never gone after any of my friend's boyfriends, never gave her a reason to feel jealous or insecure... idk her jealousy regarding me and her boyfriend is just completely fucking irrational to me.

Anyway my mind is starting to race and I don't like where it's heading, so I'm done. I didn't mean to turn this into a huge rant. I just wanted to say that between ER visits, doctor visits, figuring out what the fuck I'm going to do about therapy, legal stuff... and I also go over to my grandma's everyday for four hours to watch her in between when her caregivers are there, and her community doesn't have WiFi... things are kind of hectic to say the least.

Also, despite the tone of this blog, I don't want anyone to think I'm suicidal. I know I'm a good person with good intentions, and that I can have a great future ahead of me if I want to. And that's more than enough to keep me going. So please don't freak out and think I'm suicidal. I'm not. I promise.

Anyway. I'm still going to work on my mod stuff whenever I can. I'm not planning on stepping down or needing a break. I like being a mod. It's nice to know that I'm doing something right somewhere, at least, and I like helping people. That's not going to change, no matter how I feel or what's going on in my life. I just wanted everyone to know that.

I've tried to do "talk" therapy a few times since my mother died. My therapists were always older Jewish women. I suppose I saw them as surrogate mother-types. I never really clicked with any of them and stopped going after a few sessions. I did 10 sessions with a counselor at my college a few years ago, right before I started working. The therapist was a younger white woman, someone in my "demographic" but not really from a similar background. She probably was the most helpful out of any of the therapists I've had but it wasn't meant to be a long term thing anyway.

So yesterday I found myself in another therapist's office, telling him my tired old story. Boo hoo, let it out, I can't really cry anymore. I'm just stating facts. A, B and C happened and caused X, Y and Z. Am I hopeless, Doc?

This current therapist happens to work in the same office as my psychiatrist. I'd had an appointment with my psychiatrist on Monday. I went in while I was on 40mgs of Vicodin... not enough to be nodding out but enough for me to be more open with him. As it happened, the therapist was there and my P-doc introduced me to him and we set up an intake appointment then and there. It wasn't until that night I started freaking out about what I got myself into. First of all, this therapist is male. I had reservations about the appointment and wasn't going to go... but in the end I did end up going. I was on 15mg of oxycodone so I wouldn't be w/ding and also just enough to allow me to be more open to this man whom I'd only met 2 days before.

I feel like I will go back on a weekly basis and see if anything comes of it...

I don't know how honest I should be about my drug use because I don't want to lose my clonazepam prescription because, for one, I truly do need it and for two, I don't think I could go through benzo withdrawal at the moment... not strong enough... I guess we'll see in the coming weeks how this all turns out.

Does anyone know where to order tramadol online? I want to find a legit scam-free site but there's so many out there. Not sure if anyone knows a site they can refer me to, thanks!

It takes a lot to suprise me at this point but lo and behold...One of the Infantry Battalions that I work closely with is the 36th. I get a text this morning telling me that the EXO, or 2nd in charge of the 36th, was popped at 2AM earlier this morning. Some guy got kidnapped on Monday and this asshole was part of a family operation. They had gone to pick up P5 million (about 110K American).

The police in Cagayan del Oro City, joined by the police from the victim's hometown, Marawi City, rolled up on the fool. He was in his Mitsubishi sedan, with two cousins, and a corporal riding a Honda XRM, a motorcycle. As the police motioned for the Major to pull over he guns the engine and both cousins pull 45s, began shooting at the police as they speed down Masterson Avenue, this major thoroughfare outside Camp Evangelista, the 4ID Headquarters where this guy lived in the Officer Quarters.

The Major pulled over in front of S and M, a mall, and ended up wounded in the firefight, as did one cousin. His CO, a guy I'm friendly with, Lieutenant Canete, goes to the police station and asshole says he just wanted to treat his cousins to burgers but then they all decided they had a hankering for pizza instead, hence their being at S and M, which is about the only place to get a decent slice here abouts. In his off time he directs the 4ID Band and plays the trombone.

I don't know why militaries dig brass bands. My brigade, NACHAL- usually mistransliterated as "Nahal" in English- is famous in Israel. They forced me to learn to play the Bass Clef Baritone Horn. Our scale is the same as the trombone...Go figure. As soon as I made NCO at age 17 I kissed that semi-retarded shit goodbye.

A big giant brass fart but the IDF takes that shit seriously- or used to. Ahhh young people have no idea how easy they have it hahaha.

It's been a week since I arrived in London. I can't get used to the city. Not that I get lost all the time, it's just the "atmosphere". Something totally unlike Budapest or Prague for instance where I felt like at home.

Besides, I can't get any contact for some weed which I desperately need. I would give some methadone for a few joints. Meanwhile, I'm still on my methadone. Well, it's quite interesting I'm almost fine with my regular dose after the recent binge on levorphanol, pentamorphone, and 6-methyldihydromorphine among others. It's probably the pressure and the climate generally. It's over 1020 hPa all the time here and I used to live over 300 meters above sea level and both my BP and my pulse have always been low. Anyway, it still isn't enough to feel good enough to make a few calls to apply for a job...

And, God, everything's here so dirt-cheap when you compare salary / prices, totally unlike Poland where everything is so expensive. But firstly you need to have a job, even some 7-8 pounds an hour.

Oh, and by the way my manic episode ended and I'm depressive again. I wished I knew how long it's going to last for. Really, a few hits of marihuana would help me look more happy on the streets etc. Damned methadone is so dull that no matter the dose I can't get my mood on a normal level. Again, I started popping more clonazepam. I also have some estazolam with me, I know there's no medication in the UK containing it. Besides, I actually can't go to any doctor 'cause my insurance ceases to be valid at the beginning of December.

I'm seriously thinking about going back to that Polish land where all that's left for you is dying. There's no work in Poland, nobody wanted me on the MMT because all 10 programs are full and have long queues. At least my psychiatrist isn't against me and prescribed me as much clonazepam as she might so I'm good for 3 months (well, if I don't overdo it, and I already do).

To sum it up, it was supposed to be much better but hey, this is life, I just had to get this fucking depressive episode just before my flight to London. Shit... I guess I'll visit all the places I wanted to go in London and I will pack my bag and find some cheap ticket back to Poland. I wish I were so successful as some people are here and they don't even speak a word in English. What for do I need my English if I can't use it for a good purpose?! How is it going to help me if this terrible anxiety ruins everything. Sure, I admit my drug usage contributed a lot to my anxiety, I'm not lying to myself.

Sometimes I even think about getting some fix, sometimes I feel so depressed I know I could use some opioid i.v.'ed. It could be even heroin although I'm really fond of it and prefer morphine, levorphanol, or some dextromoramide to it.

Beautiful long black hair flows down to her shoulders while her icy, yet warm, blue eyes captivate you and for a moment even draws from the natural temptation of our gender to stare at their breasts.

She's spent six hours a day texting you for the past month, and now you finally sit across from each other at the Wild Wings down the street from her house but miles from yours. "Why the fuck did I drive all the way to this side of town for a taken woman," you question yourself idly in the back of your mind. "But she's so beautiful, and it seems like he's not doing it for her," responds the dark side of your conscience.

She's got her issues like the rest of them, but she's into dope, she's got her own house, car, job, complete independence. The guy's been hanging around for three and a half years and she's already turned down one wedding proposal.

As you sneak into the mens room after throwing your hoodie over her head to conceal her gender as best as you can to blow a roxy at the sink, you catch your first glimpse of that low hanging but perfectly formed ass, and all of a sudden, every bit of morality about not stealing a taken woman is out the window.

Forbidden fruit hangs low. More as this developing story continues. Wish your boy luck, he's going for the steal.

Hello everyone!

As you may have noticed, our own OverDone has recently been promoted to Administrator (Congratulations by the way!); which is great news for the site, but means that we will be losing him as a moderator. So, we'll be opening up applications for a new moderator, from now until 11 December.

Duties of a Blogs moderator include: reading every post that is, um, posted, and offering comments when they can; checking for spammers, attacks, and other BLUA/Blogs Guidelines violations; contributing content in whatever way they can; and generally making sure that things run smoothly here.

If you're interested, please PM your application to myself, animal_cookie and OverDone. In it, describe why you think that you would be a good mod, number of hours you spend on BL a day, location (timezone is fine), what you would do to improve Blogs if given the opportunity, and anything else that you'd like to share.

We'll be contacting the selected applicant as soon as we've come to a decision after the 11th.

Thank you all; and a special thanks to OverDone for his first-rate work here! It's a shame to lose such a dedicated volunteer, but our loss is BL's gain.

I am new to this but I need information.
What is the best way to try and get a prescription for heavy pain killers such as opana?

Because I was going to enroll in college (system engineering) I decided to make my own party to say goodbye to opioids for a while.

This is the report of what I did:

8 am - 11 am : did 375 mg of Lyrica (Pregabalin) along with 25mg of sodium Naproxen to increase Lyrica bioavailability. Also did 1mg Alprazolam to prevent heart arrhythmia.

1 pm - 3 pm: had to go to college to fill some forms, I felt extremely excited and inhibited. I had and incredible urge to smoke (I don't smoke) but I couldn't resist and bought a pack of 10 cigars. I smoke 2 cigars during the travel and felt even more euphoric, that simple nicotine felt awesome, and at the same time I felt more "controlled"

4 pm - 6 pm: did 150 mg Lyrica, 25mg sodium Naproxen, 2mg Alprazolam. Then I fall asleep. I didn't want to, but I just lied on the bed and suddenly I was sleeping like a baby

10 pm: ok, now was the time I was waiting for. I bought a box of 20 50mg pure Tramadol. I bought a Gatorade, a Red Bull, and Pepsi. I drank the Gatorade.

11 pm: already did 400mg Tramadol and 4mg Alprazolam. The Alprazolam it's mostly to prevent seizures. While fighting a little with a new Linux installation, I began to feel pleasure in my legs. I went to Windows and began to write this report while playing with my PS3

12 am: decided to drank a Red Bull with 150mg Tramadol and another 2mg Alprazolam


1 am: Feeling the opioid feeling in my arms. It's lovely. Also I'm very focused in any task I do.

1.15 am: Drank some fresh Coke with 100mg Tramadol and 2mg Alprazolam. Feeling very good and focused. I wonder how works the interaction with all the Lyrica I did today with Tramadol

1.40 am: Feeling very hungry, probably because of the Lyrica. I ate a sandwich, 75mg Lyrica and 100mg Tramadol. Feeling very good, specially in the legs, I can absolutely feel the pleasure of the opioid

2 am: Did 150mg Tramadol and 2mg Alprazolam with Pepsi. This makes 1000mg Tramadol and 12mg Alprazolam. Feeling less focused now, but still ok.

3 am: Feeling more and more pleasure, arms and legs. Playing with my PS3 it's more fun than usually. It's like, because I have no pain at all, I can focus totally in the game.
Side effect: throat dry. Will take some Pepsi.

The next day at morning: Well, I suppose the report ends here. I'm feeling quite "opiated", as in feeling pleasure in my body, specially in my legs, and one thing, maybe it's important: yesterday, at 4 am before sleeping, I did 200mg Tegretol; Tegretol facilitates Tramadol metabolism into M1, and in my body, most of the Tramadol I did was obviously metabolized, so potentiating Tramadol with Tegretol it's cool, but if you fail at the timing, it will kill your Tramadol high.

Well, back to Lyrica. Thanks for reading.

Thinking about the connecting of lasers in the modern day and lasers in the Austin Powers movie.

03/12/11 -
Christmas Shopping is complete. . I am ready to go to Arizona for the holiday season. It will be the first Christmas without snow since my time living in Hawaii - four years ago.

Enjoying the egg nog experience, although I wish there were more choices for Chocolate milk around here.

I feel like it would only be fair to write a nice little entry on the first Research Chemical I ever pursued and experienced...2c-I. 2c-I is probably one of the most popular phenethylamines that still remains unscheduled throughout most of the world. I would have to call this chemical a classic in my overall experiences with psychedelics, having found this member of the 2c-x to be one of the most agreeable compounds from Shulgin's creations, aside from its illicit cousin, 2c-B. I have used and combined this compound many times, almost always yielding positive results. Nowadays, I don't use this compound as frequently, because I am personally a much bigger fan of tryptamines. Anyways, here's some of my commentary on various dosage levels of this compound, ranging from 10-60mg typically.

10-15mg:

• 
  This range of 2c-I is probably my favorite dosage to use with this particular compound. It is able to fulfill my desire for sensory amplification, without riding my body to hard, or interrupting my normal daily routine too heavily. Though the visual, auditory, tactile and mental effects definitely become more prominent at dosages 20mg+, I find this dose the perfect medium for situations such as concerts, or tripping with larger groups of people. It offers a less intrusive, pleasant stimulation, and overall keaner perception. Colours become brighter, and features become more pronounced. Music becomes more enjoyable, and more enticing. I also notice nice patterning in my visual field, and become more creatively explorative. Despite all of this enhancement of stimuli, I still find myself to become immersed in conversation, with a smile usually glued to my face.

20-40mg:

• Still fairly immature in my overall growth in the sense of my views of the psychedelic experience, I found this dosage range to be my favorite upon first discovering this chemical. The visuals become much more intriguing, with long tracers, more movement and manipulation in my visual field. There is a more euphoric push, with more giggling, and a sense of contentment. The negative effects I have noticed in this dosage response, is more difficulty interpretting social situations, often stumbling on my words a little bit more, and having trouble properly digesting the context of dialogue from my friends. I also notice more physical discomfort, with stiffness and muscle tension plaguing the experience moreso. Most of this can be remedied with alcohol or benzo's though. Since there is no vast mental headspace with this compound, I don't really find adding these other substances to muddy up the trip. In fact, I get more enjoyment when adding alcohol (especially) to the mix, because it lowers my inhibitions enough to enhance the euphoria and stimulation of the compound, and relaxes me physically.

60mg+

• 
  This particular dosage is where I feel like this drug ruins itself. If you have a day or so to fully recover from the experience, it can be enjoyable, but it becomes taxing enough on the body for it to really seem worth it. The visual activity is unavoidable at this point, with manipulation, tracing, and fractalization becoming a prominent part of the visual field. Overall, I wouldn't recommend anyone avoid dosing this high, but it's just personally not enjoyable enough for me to do on any sort of regular basis. I've also noticed that when you pass 40mg, social situations become fairly franic. In group trip settings, I've noticed there's always going to be one person in the group who will not respond well to the intensity of this drug above 40mg. This always creates a sense of insecurity and unease upon the whole group. At this dosage range, the physical side effects are unable to be remedied in my experience. Drinking does nothing but contribute to the sense of uncomfortability, in my experience. Overall, it can be worth it, but as I said, I personally don't really enjoy this compound much anymore because of dosing in this range in great frequency.

With this compound, please remember moderation is key. If you ignore this truth, the drug will teach you, I can almost guarantee that. I think this chemical is great for sensory enhancement. It's lack of significant qualities in the grand scheme of the what I look to attain in the psychedelic experience has led me to use this compound very sparingly. I find it to be a great introductory psychedelic, a good drug for concerts, and a good drug for social situations (all of which demand conservative use). I still enjoy this compound, though I am very picky about when I decide to use it. One great attribute of this compound though, is how great it combines with other psychedelics, empathogens, and dissocatives. My top 5 combinations with this compound are:

1. 2c-I + Ketamine:
This combination has a great synergy to it. Adding ketamine to the mix greatly enhances my headspace in terms of psychedelia, as well as masks the physical side effects of 2c-I. I would greatly recommend everyone try this combo one day, given you like both drugs on their own already.

2. 2c-I + MDMA:
Really softens the physical tax of the 2c-I, as well as boosts the tactile sensations and overall euphoria of the compound. Very exquisite combo for concerts, raves, or group experiences.

3. 2c-I + 2c-E:
I am not really a fan of 2c-E by itself. I find the compound interesting, but less euphoric and more uncomfortabally stimulating. The proper ratio (which for me is 15mg of 2c-e and 10mg of 2c-I) really offers incredible synergy, and gives me the visual/auditory effects of 2c-E, with the comfortable euphoria and stimulation of low doses of 2c-I

4. 2c-I + Cocaine:
Very euphoric, eliminating my typical sense of discomfort that I get from 2c-I. Very good for social situations, and takes away some of the bite of Cocaine.

5. 2c-I + LSD:
Very interesting combo, though not necessarily better than each of the chemicals on their own. In defnitely lends to the headspace of 2c-I by itself, but I love LSD too much to dirty it with anything most of the time. 2c-B and LSD however, is a wonderful combination. But 2c-B is more friendly to the body and mind than 2c-I. Definitely an interesting combo, nonetheless.

Please take into consideration that every person is different, and that these combos may not be as enjoyable to others. And also remember to get to know any two compounds before you decide to mix them, because they will often potentiate eachother to some extent, demanding proper dose ratios.

Welp, that's my experience with this compound! Hope you all got something out of it!!!

how are your come downs? mine are not so good, any feedback on how to cope??

Why is it so hard to be happy? I have no real reason to be sad but happiness feels unobtainable. I try so hard. I really do. I despair of what is to become of me. Nobody needs me and I feel like I don't have a place in this world. As the months roll by I lose more hope and I don't know what my purpose is. I have managed to fuck up every opportunity I ever had and I only have myself to blame. I am so tired. I wish I could find some meaning and direction.

So ridin around smokin crack this dude tells me im a very genuine guy. What does that even mean? I dunno pass me the fuckin pipe. The last week has been a haze a replay but where everythings a little different its almost like a remake of a classic movie but this shit is my life. My arm has a big ass knot where I missed a whole k4 cause I was too high on crack to feel that I was missing. I am in total self destruct mode you know that scene in fight club where Edward Norton talks about flushing oil tankers onto the pristine beaches he will never visit thats how I feel I wanna destroy something beautiful. Its honestly fucking shameful I am such a leach I just suck the good out of everything till there is only acidic rottenness there I am a taker cause I got nothing to give. But then there is the other side of the coin cause shit there are always 2 sides to every story maybe im just a lost soul looking for redemption? Maybe I just love heroin? I dunno burn me at the fuckin stake its all relative anyway. End xanax babble.

Everything in mine is wrong.
Family. "Friends". People in general. Finances. Now, my health. My life altogether.

I can't think of anything that makes me happy anymore. Maybe that's why I like Bluelight and PeeJ and other volunteer work so much. Helping others makes me feel like I'm actually worth something, I guess. Because it's obvious that to the rest of the world, I'm not.My own self-esteem and confidence used to keep me going, but even that's starting to slowly be sucked away.

How can you be happy when every single thing in your life is shit? I feel like I've lost myself. And it scares me, because what if I can't find it again?

And worse... what if I don't want to anymore? :/

I'm so done with you..please just leave my life, I don't think there's anything else you can take away from me..you just took one of the most important people in my life away from me and is that going to be enough now? Have you salvaged all you could from my broken soul yet? leave, you have overstayed your welcome, you have worn me out, I am so tired of this all. so tired of you. You fucked me up, look at what I have been reduced to, a shell of what I once was. stay the fuck away from me

What up guys. Shit still is lame. Keep getting denied for jobs left and right, probation fees stacking up, threat letters coming in. Oh well, at least I got nofx. I wish I was a chick so I could be a hooker.

give it up for workin stiffs and those who sell heir bodies,time and future

the popular people who can shout and spread
a catchy rationalization

lets give a cheer for androids, robots,
servants and their masters

"blind leading the blind" and "slavery is freedom"

starts to resound
everyone knew madison
she came to hollywood
a couple buttons short
couldnt keep her story straight
she had a drawer full of poisons,
punctures, pictures of victims

of course someone asks are they still victims if
they never realize it?

go ask a PA minor
breathing blackness smoking 3 pack camels

loyal americans who love their collar colored
for 40 hours

a spade is still a spade, a collar is still
a collar whether it

be blue or white
its still around your neck, the silk leash nice and tight

your wife helped pick it

out the irony is
that your worked 3 hours for it

you wish you
could ignore it

you're a hooker.

start to realize its true
they sniff their coke you huff your glue
pimps and prostitutes
buisnessmen in monkey suits
on their knees
licking corporate boots
suckin up jumping through hoops
pimps and wall street ho's
work the street in business clothes
blows jobs, rimming, sucking cock,

they're getting laid while you're getting laid off

"Walking Contradiction"

Do as I say not as I do because
The shit's so deep you can't run away
I beg to differ on the contrary
I agree with every word that you say
Talk is cheap and lies are expensive
My wallet's fat and so is my head
Hit and run and then I'll hit you again
I'm a smart ass but I'm playing dumb

Standards set and broken all the time
Control the chaos behind a gun
Call it as I see it even if
I was born deaf, blind and dumb
Losers winning big on the lottery
Rehab rejects still sniffing glue
Constant refutation with myself
I'm a victim of a catch 22

I have no belief
But I believe
I'm a walking contradiction
And I ain't got no right

Do as I say not as I do because
The shit's so deep you can't run away
I beg to differ on the contrary
I agree with every word that you say
Talk is cheap and lies are expensive
My wallet's fat and so is my head
Hit and run and then I'll hit you again
I'm a smart ass but I'm playing dumb

I have no belief
But I believe
I'm a walking contradiction
And I ain't got no right

I have no belief
But I believe
I'm a walking contradiction
And I ain't got no right

I can't deal with this. My whole little stupid world fell apart last week... just in time for my Thanksgiving break to totally fucking suck. It's hard not to resent all the people and factors involved in this -- my buddy, the police, the holidays, my mother's Yarzheit and myself especially. Almost everyone I know is going through something. Even people I don't really know. This goes much deeper than I will ever know. Sometimes I think some sort of ''higher power'' has a hand in this... It's testing me. Usually when I can't score I blame everything and everyone I can possibly think of, up to and sometimes including "God". God is just testing my strength. God wants me to be sober for right now.

I could be that little lab mouse in that little cage, freaking out because I can't pull the meth lever anymore! (Did anyone see that documentary, "World's Most Dangerous Drug" with Lisa Ling about methamphetamine? It scared the fuck out of me!) I had my run with cocaine and I have a fear of seeming crazy to people I don't know, so I get paranoid and think they're talking about me... My anxiety keeps me from completely going off the deep end, I guess? I went off the deep end once, around family and family friends and it was extremely awful.

My family (back when my mom was alive and my dad was well enough to travel) went upstate to spend the holidays with our old neighbors/friends. I brought my cocaine and Bacardi 151. My default "best friend" at the time wanted to get drunk, so we drank. I had to find a place to do my coke -- the house was pretty full, like on some Home Alone before they traveled to wherever it was they were going shit. I went out to the lake that was just up the road from them and did a few lines of coke. And then a few more. Before I knew it, I was out of cocaine. I freaked the fuck out and made up this story about how my friend called me and told me my cat got out and I needed to take the next bus home... Lame, right? I was screaming and crying and out of my mind with rage. I am normally quite a level, reserved person when not around my innermost circle of people so I knew I wasn't handling things well. I just needed some space. A person can't always be "on", right? I assume it was my dopamine receptors being fried from all of the cocaine and the panic and depression the comedown always caused.

Anyway, me and my friend ended up getting drunk that night to calm the fuck down and we were going to hop a fence. She pushed me and I fell on my ankle and heard a "pop". My mom and my mom's self-proclaimed best friend didn't really care, as they were drunk too. My ankle was swollen and I could barely move it. Someone wrapped it with some ACE bandage and that was it. My ankle has never been the same but it's alright now I guess...

The point is, from that, I knew I was done with cocaine. I probably used a few more times after but it was the beginning of the end. With oxy, it's not like that. It's a cruel mistress and it always seduces me back to her. I wrote a poem that was very similar to this concept about cocaine years ago and if I find it and it's good enough, I will post it. But I feel that, despite the withdrawals and the great depression is causes after the acute withdrawal phase, I still can see the good in it and that's my trouble. I am not ready to stop but I never know what my mood will be going to the next minute or hour or day or week so I have to toss shit at the wall and see what sticks.

Just now, I was looking up NA Meetings, to at least give one a chance. My girlfriend has a point and I see it now, just a few days removed from the last hit of oxycodone. I took some suboxone on Thursday, Thanksgiving, because I couldn't really eat -- a low dose, way less than even 1mg... it's now 2 days removed from that and my legs are still a bit crazy, my stomach is in knots and I am restless and bored as hell. I guess that's why I am writing in this blog so much too.

I have a sheet of paper here next to me. On one side is a list of NA meetings in my area and on the other is a list of pills and prices for my backup connect... The epitome of irony and a brain in struggle.

A couple of years ago, when I wasn't taking anything on a daily basis except for my scripted meds, I took a class called "Alcohol, Tobacco and Other Drugs" as an elective, given by an older black gentleman Professor who worked/works with addicts and, if I recall correctly, successfully got himself out of the drug lifestyle. It was interesting.

For the class, we were supposed to observe an open AA meeting. I went there with my girlfriend because she'd had a problem with alcohol and plus I didn't feel comfortable going alone. It was an open meeting that catered to gay folks. I was much more uncomfortable about the whole gay thing back then so I stayed away from anyone who might know me. Except, when we walked in, my girlfriend and myself were the only 2 females in the room. Turns out, it was only for gay MALES.

Oops! So we bolted out of there and probably met up with another friend and got some pills or pot or something. Oops! I bullshitted my paper and got my A, as I've been doing for the past couple of years. Sometimes I think my writing is the only thing getting me through college. Even then, my writing isn't that good. I just have a decent grasp of spelling and grammar and I write for the Professor -- that's my secret! Write for your audience, they say. So I write for my Professors... I feel like if I can turn in an interesting paper, I can get an interesting grAAAAAAAde. Ha, try it, it works.

So what the fuck was my point? I don't know. I'm high on sobriety. I am anxious as fuck. I am thinking of actually taking my antidepressants which is fucking crazy. I feel like Cadie/Cassie from SKINS US/UK (Lame show? I don't know... I like it) with a closet full of pills. You know, the ones that mother gives you, the ones that don't do anything at all.

So I think I've come to the end of my rant. I had some whiskey on Thursday and all it gave me was a headache and a stomach ache. My drinking/drug buddy from high school was over and we sat down in my living room to drink but it wasn't the same. Maybe because that was where my mom died? And where I had so many fucked up coke binges and so many bad LSD trips? There's a force field in there that can only be broken by WWE wrestling and opiates... It's a bit of a tomb.

I have to get out of here. The urge to flee has never been stronger. Maybe that's why I don't pay my rent. I don't do anything until there's a figurative gun to my head. I'm lazy and defeated easily. I like being blissfully unaware.

Beg and borrow but never steal. Unless you can get away with it.