Blogs

My new schedule has been fucking me up. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that my unwillingness to be responsible and change my routine in order to adapt to the new schedule has been fucking me up.

I hate these thoughts, man. I fucking HATE them. It always gets like this, I get tired and I get fucked in the head with real bad shit. I get hungry, same thing happens.

Its difficult to determine if the things and motives happening around me are real or just my fucked up, fantastical thoughts.

It bothers me that my default 'escape' no longer centers on getting high (I haven't used drugs in over a year). Now my default response is fantasy. I fantasize about taking myself out or I fantasize about hurting myself.

I fucking hate it. I know if I can get some sleep that these thoughts will start to go away but the more I think, the less I can sleep.

It'll pass and its entirely my fault that I'm like this. Just gotta man the fuck up I suppose

Muammar Gaddafi
Kim Jong Il
Viktor Bout
Barack Obama

it's not.

Somethings are crazy about being me. Everyday is an internal struggle with things that, oddly, seem to be constantly coming at me from the outside. My experiences sound very similar to paranoid schizophrenia. Though, usually, when your a paranoid schizophrenic, all your friends and the people around you don't usually bear witness to the cross of your hallucinations and delusions. I guess they may see it, see it in you..People must be effected by your thoughts and their resultant actions..Crazy or not. But this is ironic..Its ironic to have your paranoid delusions scare other people, for them to see it too and agree and be worried by it. This is quite the burden at times. A lesser man might not be quite so well adjusted..I told a friend of mine recently, that if I'm mad, I'd be like the guy from a beautiful mind. Battling the demons of his insanity, solving his problems..And more. If anything, I aspire to have these hallucinations and delusions become something more positive, to be a facilitation of my reality rather than a destructive interference. I look at it like a reality over-lay. Ideally, it should help, not hurt. So this is my goal.

Last night, I decided to get drunk with some friends. I'm a psychospiritual mess. Evidently people of like mind cluster around me, at that. A friend of mine, one I believe who has tried to harm me magickally, was with us this night. I made my peace with him, I believe, thought, not in words per se...And did some chakra and energy work while watching manswers with my friends. I live in a different reality than most, its true. But he's more in tune with my reality tunnel than some of the others.

Later another friend came by. Came to drink with us. Recently, I did some energy work on him. I have no idea at all what I'm doing, basically I was experimenting on him, it may have been a really bad idea. I sent my energy into his chakras, with the intention that he may become more aware of their locations and what they feel like. My energy is apparently powerful, I can't resist the urge to use it. He suffers depression, I've been trying to help him lately. Its my crazy shaman vibe going; though, there's an interesting dynamic here, an exchange is taking place. Evidently, either my charles manson vibe is hitting him..i've done shrooms with him, and I'm the man on shrooms, for some reason I turn into charles manson, brain wash people and shit, its really quite intense and scary the charisma and magickal vibe I give off in groups of people on shrooms..somehow convincing him of a cultish idea of energy and magickal powers...Or, somehow I've awakened something in him by doing this. He appears to have developed the power of energy vampirism.

While smoking pot with him and a friend, all hell broke loose. He began to use his new found awareness. It was not exactly positive energy. He leeched one of my friends and attempted to give it to me. He also tried leeching me, but, I gave him something bad. This was not the time for me to be involved in magickal duels. I had taken a klonopin, much smirnoff and smoked a blunt. Nevermind I can't seem to smoke pot anymore without having crazy spiritual visions and hallucinations. I feel like dark forces try to possess me and shit as well. Its not very fun. You'd think the klonopin would've helped me out as they often prescribe it for HPPD, of which, marijuana most certainly intensifies, if that is even what this is.

I didn't see any auras; but neither was I looking for them. I describe it like this; I did alot of shrooms, trying to get into contact with something, and something I did contact indeed. Call it madness if you want; call it a spiritual awakening if that makes you feel better. The insanity that I preach is worse than many's sanity. Its not fun. If you knew what I knew, you probably wouldn't like it either.

I've done alot of drugs. This is karmic here. They all came back to me at once. A sense of dissassociation and doom, very salvia like set upon me. Almost acid trip like, almost shroomy, and even almost DXM like, almost datura like even, all at once. This was not fun. I felt like I had taken a step out of the world. Out of body experience. I'd use this metaphor, I stepped back stage and had a talk with all the actors involved, who, taking the forms of my friends who were with me, told me I take in too much bad from everyone, and give so much. That I feel like I don't get anything in return, but I do and I am appreciated. Nice messages from persons claiming to be mostly evil; but they like me evidently.

I worried for a while I wouldn't come back..Stepping out of the world, I didn't feel like I was on earth anymore. I totally lost touch with this world. I ripped one of the posters off my wall, convinced it was charmed with an evil spell, and threw out my friends coat in a delirious state believing it to have some bad hoojoo as well. This was totally silly, and very not the shaman thing to do, I must be braver and stronger than this if I ever hope to survive the transition, even if I was really drunk, high and on klonpin, but then again, my friends eyes were glowing green and shit, and I felt like it wasn't really him. It may not have been, sometimes I feel a strong presence follows me around and is talking to me through others now. Its not fun.

I woke up this morning, dug through the trash of my building and found my boys coat; made right a terrible wrong I did while delirious under the influence of a variety of drugs, sick horrible flashbacks and perhaps even spiritual presences, probably bad ones. I may have got it bad, but my friends bore witness to this shit as well, so I'm not alone in this. This doesn't help. If I was just mad, I'd take drugs, talk to a therapist and hopefully feel better..But when everyone else sees it too. Well, what do you do?

not an hour goes by that i don't think about you....really.

So I was a week clean off benzos, and about 3 weeks sober, and tonight I gave up and drank a bottle of wine after I got home from a friend's wedding. This is the longest I've been clean and sober in a very long time, and it felt good but also scary and overwhelming and .... hard. Not having mind and emotion-numbing substances in my life is a new one. And tonight I just blocked every potential consequence from mind and decided to drink. I didn't even want alcohol. But it was the only available drug. At least it's somewhat numbing. Oh the good old days when alcohol was all it took to sooth me.

The other night I went into my desk drawer to look for a credit card. This was a drawer I put needles and bags in. Before I knew it I was searching frantically through all the drawers around my apartment and under the couch where maaaaaaaaaaaaybe by some miracle (curse) I had left a bag (yeah right). Of course I found nothing, and I ended the night frustrated and upset with myself.

In theory I really want to get clean. In actuality, I want to be a crazy addict locked up in some facility because I don't think what I want will ever come and the pain is just too much to deal with. I'm fairly numb right now but I wait for the numbness to wane and then the bomb will drop. Then what?

And my bottle of wine is almost done. Now what?

What is this stuff? I know it is a Cathinone but which one. Does anyone know?

At least make a comment.

Thanks

http://www.junkysays.blogspot.com/

I'm very firmilar with the 12 steps of AA and NA, I work the NA program, but I get a lot from AA in it's self. If you go to a meeting about resentment, or anger (topics) you will hear "patience love and tolerance", what does this mean, and why the fuck should I do it?
When I'm mad at someone, I tend to stretch that anger out, and build a resentment. why? I can't fully answer that, I can say it makes me feel diffrent inside. The anger and hate towards an individual starts the gears turning in my brain, and I start "Thinking". I shouldn't be thinking anyway about acting out on anger and resentments. I've herd it enough in meetings that it will get you drunk and high.
Why I choose to blog about this??
I'm dealing with Anger right now, it's a little bit better because I was able to talk to someone about it. No not my sponsor. Just a good friend of mind that has 31+ years of soberity/clean time, and "old timer" you may say.
Why am I angry?
I'm angry because my room mate will not lock the door,(i wanted to cuss and say fuck so bad in that sentince but i'm trying to refrain rehatching that feeling right now).
I've talked with him about this when he first moved in, and he agreed to lock the door.. It happened the next day, he left the door unlock with no where to be around, so I talked with him again. Within that night, I came home from a meeting and the door was unlocked... OK this time I told him to PLEASE LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR,exact words, and he's like "DONT THREATN ME BRO" I said, I'm not dude just lock the FUCKING DOOR!.
Not even a day later I come home from class and the door is once again unlocked with him no where to be around.. OK i'm pissd, so I go and talk to staff, and told him what I felt, the emotions because thats really what i'm worried about.. my feelings have caused me to do things.. that I normally wouldn'tve done in the first place.(this was yesterday). so the staff I talked with it about passed it along to one of the owners of the halfway house i live in, and he talked to my room mate, and me. I thought everything was going to be good.
now today, today hasnt been good for me anyway.. and I come home already upset to find the door unlocked AGAIN WITH HIM NOOOO WHERE TO BE FOUND! WHAT THE $#@%! this is the final straw, I'm ready to smash, I'm star power bitch, my anger meeter was beyond special move mode, It was at like the street fighter level when u can use super special moves, yeah that mad.
So how did I controll this anger??
I went to talk to the staff(the guy with 30+ years), and he was nice enough to lend a ear, and listen while I exploded. then I felt better. well not 100% better, like 50%.. the hostile part of my anger went away, and the only lingering anger was mainly wanting to exchange words with my room mate. So staff printed out these sheets of paper that say LOCK THE DOOR (name withheld) THIS IS NOT A JOKE!. so I put em up all over the door on the inside, and outside. hoping he will start locking the door.
He just came and apoligized to me, he didn't make eye contact when he did it, but i accepted it anyway because i'm trying to practice "patience love and tolerance of others", regardless of the situation.

i'm off to a meeting, love you all
drew

I hate this shit. I hate trying to describe addiction to someone who should know better but somehow doesn't grasp what I'm saying. It's ridiculous that I cannot remember the last time I went 24 hours without using SOMEthing. Legal, or otherwise. Arguing with myself about going to meetings, quitting, pretending I'm fine or just weak-minded, trying to come up with excuse after excuse to use or not use. This is so so so so hard. Shut up with your "choices", shut up with your "will power", get the fuck out of here with your "it's all in your head". You. Don't. Know.

And this is how I have to live the rest of my life.

the occupation is kind of cute. ive never seen so many white kids with dreadlocks! in all seriousness its great to see this happening, but id prefer if they dont refer to themsevles as "99%"

why? cuz im not part of you. im an ally, a sympathizer, but i think your whole system is a joke, not just the parts you want to fix.

corporatism is fascism - Mussolini said this, so did anyone with half a brain in the 30s. the neocons know this, thats why its decorated as freedom so heavily. the dems know this too, and its why its so painfully obvious that bipartisan politics in the usa is a distraction from the same universal goal. that goal, namely, is to turn the West (and, well, the rest of the world) into a giant artificial fish tank.

what we have here is the same parable of old, from Plato's Allegory of the Cave, to the Wachowski's The Matrix. Corporatism has produced a fish tank for their fish to live in. A nice pretty place, complete with rainbow colored plastic sunken pirate ship, glow in the dark neon green skulls, plastic algae, and those really groovy shiny oval rocks. The fish accepted willingly, and for a while it was pretty blissfull to swim around with all the food raining down from heaven and safe playground to live in. What happened outside of the fish bowl? Why should this even be a concern, right? And you could safely ignore the occasional case of Ick or the occasional little tiny fish getting sucked into the air filter, life was pretty A-OK. Corporate gods showered their sexy little gifts, and everything was blissfull.

No one even noticed the slime growing on the side of the fish tank, the excess algae, and the rising Ph level. Some of us did, some of us got vocal, and we were ignored. Some of us got real fucking angry, and were still treated like the oddballs, both by the Big C above and by the fellow fish around us. Some of us have been worshipers of the energies of the life giving essences of the fish tank, and have always decried the death of our natural seaweeds, and these blasphemous plastic green monstrosities erected in their place. Some of us have been saying the pirate ship is a fake toy our whole lives, only to be rejected by at least 99% of the other fish.

Eventually, the plastic seaweed was taken away. Then the cool skulls, followed by the pirate ship. Too hard to clean I suppose. Then the fish food got worse, and worse. Then bodies of other fish got a lot harder to ignore. Then you all started realizing that those bodies were always there, you always lived in immense fish suffering, and these stupid gifts from the corporate fish feeders are what allowed you to ignore it. You were able to pass the buck on, to diffuse your responsibility onto some other fish, or maybe even your oh-so-benevolent fish feeders, and to convince yourself that the fish tank was always getting better.

Now that your toys are taken away, youre pissed off. Youre assuming everyone else is too. Youre all swimming around in circles, angry at the situation. You want your fish feeders to behave according to some arbitrary moral guidelines, and if they wont, want some force in play to make them. You want your glow in the dark pirate ship back, and you want the groovy voodoo skulls in their same exact positions too. You want the plastic seaweed back pronto. You want to go back to your comfy cozy little womb of peace and quiet, where you can safely ignore the death and suffering in the world around you. You want "fairness," you want control over the fish food, you want to know that the fish feeders have good intentions, and you want someone to make sure they live up to it!

Fuck your fish tank. Ive been occupying their shit since i was 12. Im the worst consumer imaginable. My whole life youve told me I had no style, and my whole life I answered to you that I have no need for someone to sell me style. My whole life Ive Tuned In, Turned On, and Dropped out, and you waited until you went to college and some other fish told you it was cool to do so. My whole life Ive stolen every piece of music I have, from independent artists who enjoy that I do so, because were about destroying your fucking society and everything it stands for \m/. Ive spent a decade making sure I cost the system as much destruction as a kid possibly can do, and Ive spent another decade trying to open up as many people as I possibly can to a new horizon of psychedelic freedom and freedom from the spell of mindless consumerism. Ive been saying the CIA creates the flow of the heroin in your veins, the crack through your streets, and the acid in your brain for ever, and im not the only one either. Ive been screaming CONTROLLED DEMOLITION since 2002, but it wasnt "cool" on twitter back then. Ive been saying Facebook is a CIA datamine since it was conceived, and to this day I am all about anti-social media. Youre told to bown down to the deified Steve Jobs like he were Augustus himself, and you do! Ive been saying human progress is a non linear trap brought on by the unnatural condition of patriarchal control since I was a child, and that we are in an endless cyclical pattern, destined to repeat itself so long as all the fish believe that human social evolution is linear. Ive beein saying organized sports exists to castrate men while convincing them the opposite, that fast food is designed to render us infertile, and that the Western dietary template is purposely out of tune with Nature, and you found this ridiculous. You bought all their lies, for only $0.99.

Im being a bit facetious here, but ive been against modern civilization as a whole ever since I was a young teen. I am a messenger from the cosmos, merely here to say that I was born 10,000 years too early, or too late. Fuck your 99%, we are not the same. I am a barracuda, who was born into the fish tank with you, but chose to swim out. You, on the other hand, want your fish tank restored to working order.

Fuck your fish tank. You want to stop corporate power? Then do it. Dont stand there holding a fucking sign, those fucks hopped on their yachts and private jets, shat on your faces when they took off, and are partying on their private island someplace. STOP BUYING SHIT!!! Its as simple as that. Fuck your fashion, fuck your clothes, fuck your farm factoried foods, fuck biotechnology, fuck the FDA, fuck the cancer conspiracy, fuck all Western medicine, fuck your iGod, fuck your stupid fucking twatter and facebook shit, seriously, just throw the whole fishtank out. Destroy your television. Never watch youtube again. Dont expose your mind to advertisements of any form. GROW YOUR OWN FOOD. Grow your own weed, EVERYWHERE. Dont use plastic. Recycle other people's plastic. Bring a backpack everywhere. Use solar panels on everything. Dont ever use styrofoam. DOnt ever succumb to convenience, "Hoo Rah" your whole fucking life, because youre not a fucking guppie, youre a manta ray, a shark, a whale, whatever, youre not the fish theyre telling you that you are.

Learn Linux. Learn many languages. Learn martial arts. Study classical history. Study military history. Study paleontology. Study sustainable agriculture. Study holistic health care. Study prevention. Learn and do nothing else. Destroy nuclear families. Destroy the patriarchy. Eliminate the need for culture. Ignore borders. Turn your body into a weapon. Every human being out there is capable of crushing a small tree in half with their elbows, all it takes is to loose interest in their fish tank, and gain an interest in yourself. MEDITATE. Nourish your pineal activity. Rest well. Buy as little as you possibly can, reuse everything. Invent your own currency.

DESTROY THE IDENTITY THEYRE FORCING ONTO YOU. YOU ARE A COSMIC, INFINITE, AND POWERFUL CREATURE, AND THE LAST THING THEY WANT YOU TO BE AWARE OF IS THIS.

I am not the 99%. Im not in your fucking fish tank. Im a barracuda, and I belong in free waters. Excuse me, I have some trees to harvest energy from now.

(though, you might catch me at the Occupy Times Square rally tonight )

Im addicted to vicoden and oxycodene but do not have any any ideas to how i can have the same high until i can get more???

I am skipping a class that I really need to pass. The Professor is a hard-ass lady from Jamaica and always calls on me when I have nothing to say. Why do teachers do that? I am paying attention and if I really do have something to say, I will raise my hand. It's not beyond my scope of living.

It's just that my anxiety disorder almost completely clams me up in any sort of public speaking situation. I end up feeling stupid in front of 30 people and it just makes me not want to go. This will be my third time missing the class. It's just a general education requirement so I will be fucking delighted with a C but what's that about 90% of life is just showing up? I know I should talk to her but sometimes I feel like I just need to put on my big girl panties and fucking DO IT and not complain. School is just going to get harder, right? I want to be an English teacher but I'm not sure it's for me...

I also want to go to culinary school. It's been on my mind for quite a while. There are plenty here in NYC but that means I have to start over and get into more debt. My credit is fucked and I have no one to cosign a loan nor do I have a job at the moment. Oh, and say hello to the raging monkey on my back.

I feel like cooking is my passion and I'd love to do it on the level of some of the greats. To be honest, I'd just love to open a restaurant/bar/art space type deal where I can just kind of hang out all day and schmooze. I've always thought when you die and go to heaven, it's kind of like a big, casual dinner party with all the people who went before you where you can talk, catch up, eat, laugh and just be together. Like that scene in Hook where the Lost Boys have that imaginary feast of pastel mush.

It's sad but I do enjoy most films with Robin Williams.

I just can't do anything. I don't have any energy. I have these cysts in my neck that are right near my thyroid that I feel like need to come out. My thyroid levels are completely normal. I have a constant pain in my neck when I am not on an opioid. But I only have Medicaid.

I should have gotten my tonsils out when I had the chance, when I was still working and had decent insurance. Oh well. I'm fucking going out of my mind and I can't leave the house unless I'm completely doped up. I think I'm at the end of my rope and I should just suck it up and get some help. Like, in-patient type shit. But I just can't deal with the stigma even though almost everyone I know has been hospitalized at one point or another.

I could never kill myself and leave my brother like that especially because he's doing so well. I thought he had a delayed grief response but apparently mine is even slower now that I've had the time to sit and wallow in it. Before, I just worked and worked and kept busy but I was burning the candle at both ends and kind of just said fuck it. Now would be the time, wouldn't it, to get my shit together.

Waiting on some percs that couldn't come soon enough. Then some oxy. In a couple of weeks I will be feeling better. And then feeling worse because I'll be sick again.

You know the drill. How awesome is life.

test

Let me just get it out of the way before I start that I'm not doing anything differently. Yeah, I have a concussion, but that happened a week ago. I've been taking all of my meds the same, I've been getting enough sleep and rest, etc.

Anyway I was asleep just now, having a normal dream, I guess. My whole entire family was there, plus my bird (minus my other pets). All of the sudden, out of no where, the dream took on a completely sinister tone. Just really dark and twisted. One by one, each member of my family would turn evil, then just go back to normal out of no where like nothing happened. First, I got a bad feeling about my brother. He was nonchalantly taking things off my dresser and putting them in my purse, not even looking at what he was doing; I was telling him to stop because it was creeping me out, but he kept on going in a sort of rhythmic, mechanical pattern, and I "knew" it was for some sort of really bad purpose. Then he exited the dream completely. Next were my parents, who kept telling me to kill myself and shit like that, as I was crying on my bed. Then they went back to normal. Next it was my bird. One minute he was saying, "Hi, I love you!" and I was telling my mom how excited I was that he was talking, and the next minute, he started attacking me like crazy. Like, I could actually feel him biting me IN my dream, and it fucking HURT. (And yes, he's bit me before, but not as hard as he was in my dream.) It was like the second I would let him go, he would attack me. When I put him in his cage, somehow he knew how to stretch his neck outside of the bars and attack me, no matter how far away I walked. Then he was out of the cage, flying around and being normal again. He landed in what looked like a tub of water, and my mom was like, "Make sure he doesn't land in the water, take him out right now!" So I did, and my bird was gone; the chemical had caused him to combust. I started crying. Then for some reason I started washing my face with the chemical that had just killed my bird, and my ENTIRE family (cousins, etc.) were laughing at me as I rushed to the bathroom to try and wash it off. For some reason, I couldn't. The dream ended with feeling extremely thirsty, like my throat was super dry and fucked up and burning, and that's when I woke up.

Even though that was easily the most horribly sinister fucked up nightmare I've ever had in my life, it didn't phase me much once I finally woke up, assessed the situation, realized my bird was safe and sound (and peaceful) in his cage next to my bed, and that I was not falling into sleep paralysis. I'm used to nightmares; I have them all the time. So yes, that part was weird, but it was not the weirdest. The WEIRDEST part is what happened when I looked at the pile of clothes on my bed - I saw faces in every. single. fold. of. clothes. Scary, sneering faces. If I stared at one long enough, it would wink. They kept popping up, ones I hadn't noticed before, if I would look over an area a second time. I knew it wasn't real... in fact, I even ruffled my clothes (which didn't make the faces go away), but it was still freaking me out. So I got out of bed and decided to turn on the light and not go back to sleep until the sun starts to come up.

Then shit got even weirder. Immediately after turning the light on, I was FREEZING cold and shivering and chattering my teeth uncontrollably. Even with a sweater, pants, socks, a shirt, the works on. And it's barely 65 degrees outside, maybe take a few. Then I started having really bad tremors in my arms and legs (not unlike when I go took long between Xanax doses... except I didn't do that today, just FYI). I was also really disoriented, and I felt a definite panic attack coming on. I took a Xanax, and I feel better now, but I'm still freaked the hell out by what just happened.

Has anything remotely similar happened to anyone else? What would cause this? The only medication I stopped taking somewhat abruptly was my Tramadol, but I wasn't on a very high dose and I've only been taking it for about 4 days and only when desperately needed. I hate Trams, so I avoid them unless I have to take them for pain.

I did not go to bed stressed out. I had gouda cheese and crackers before I went to sleep. I also drank a lot of water throughout the day. I took my normal medications today: the only one I added in was Vistaril to manage my anxiety while I try to preserve my Xanax so I have just enough to stop withdrawals until Wednesday when I can try to get more. However, I've taken Vistaril in combination with my normal medications before without this happening. I also currently have a concussion, but I've had it for a week now, so I'm not sure that has anything to do with it.

Oh, and the tremors are gone. I still feel freaked out, and sort of on edge, like I don't trust the world right now - I feel like something bad is going to happen. When I close my eyes, I see more sinister images and more creepy, smiling, somewhat-human faces pass before me. Other than that though, I'm fine. Just confused.

So what the hell? Is it a combination of the Xanax, Suboxone, and Vistaril, with around 100 mg of Tramadol added in there today? Is it yet another post-concussive symptom showing up way later than it should? I just want to know. I don't like it; it's preventing me from feeling comfortable enough to go back into my room, let alone go back to sleep... and I am TIRED as SHIT. Plus I don't like these little hallucination-type things that I'm having, they're officially creeping me the hell out. I wish it was possible to cuddle with my bird.

I have a lot of experience with sleep disturbances, mainly nightmares (that are almost as horrific as this one, but not quite) and sleep paralysis. So needless to say, it's weird for this kind of thing to affect me. I've come out of some of the worst SP episodes ever and gone back to sleep within the hour. Something tells me that I'm going to be waiting until it's light outside to attempt sleep again, no matter how hard I have to fight off how tired I feel. I'm trying to avoid both the images I see when I close my eyes, as well as going back into my room... and okay, the idea of letting myself fall asleep and be completely vulnerable is bothering me too, so that's another thing stopping me.

Another thing - I keep seeing things move out of the corner of my eye. Black shapes, other objects (that when I look at head on are in the same place as always of course). I have zero idea what the fuck is going on. Any ideas? Anyone?

Mentally stable for now but seriously discontent with how my life is. This merits a little backdrop info. I was playing a game recently and dealing with a quest for Raul a gun fighting ghoul and hes going into this conversation about how just going around shooting to solve problems never seems to do anything good. Thats when I started this long imaginary lecture centered around the thought that maybe we didnt always solve things too amicably but at least we arent a bunch of cowards hiding inside wishing things would get better. No at least we actually were out there making a difference. Then I realised I was one of those cowards I spoke of. In real life anyway and that I really have any room to speak about anything because I do not have the courage or willpower to make change myself.
This is a vary dismaying realisation because it brings up old wounds that still wont heal since i wont face the issues, and guns or no still far to scared to make real change. I know that you cant reform yourself overnight but i can barely see what i need to do to help myself. Fuck I hate procrastinating but im so damn good at it.

I admit, ive been abusing salvia quite a bit ever since i got it Sunday, i can't seem to get enough of this new experience. I ran out last night going on my final 3 trips before i ran out.

The wasn't quite perfect, my dad was sleeping upstairs and my mother was yet to arrive home. If i were caught doing any substance god knows what they'd do.

Anyway i figured, ' hey i can fit a trip right now,' i set the some music and took about 2 and a half monster hits. I lied down and held it in.

Its pitch black where im at, my father comes down the stairs, i got caught, i run up these stairs (all the meanwhile im trying to run while lied down) panting, this is not a good one my friends, footsteps all around me and a house song which sounds happy but the lyrics being 'love not meant to be' sent me further down. Im alone, i cant seem to find my way out. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, the ceiling which has small bumps looked like ice sickles hanging downward ready to fall at any moment towards my face- i take a deep breath and try to calm down, its helpless but its wearing off at a decent rate- thank god. I dont remember exactly what i saw then, soon enough i got up turned the light on and went to my computer- still a bit dissociated, and feeling like im rotating to the right like some kind of wheel- the computer screened look bent backwards and as i typed looking at the keyboard i blinked and a small explosion of keys shot up taking a figure of a man- opened my eyes and then lost my attention to the shadow right next to me drawn out by the light i turned on. I was astounded, i waved my hand and the figure did as well. Everything felt more "real" i can't explain it.

It took me about an hour to shake off what just happened, its hard to remember how bad the trip was, perhaps its just my optimistic outlook when i do these kind of things.

My mother soon Arrived and about 3 hours later after she went to bed i went on the last 2 trips before i was out.

Ill cut this one short, it being notable and all.
I shut my eyes same as before, thought about me doing absolutely nothing right now, i not attending school until spring and not having a job and how much i disliked it. Sure enough i remember this blue-green line progressing downward and shaking violently before it went in a shredder, which was out of my site, kind of like those lifeline machines u see at the hospital, only hanging downward. The thought of an essay came to mind, i cant remember exactly which was the author but it was about how one's perfect health can be stripped away so easily by disease.

Then it hit me, no matter how much you achieve, no matter how much you own, we will all die. You can be president of a country but your still going to die, it being as simple as a small car crash. CEO of a company or just a bum roaming the streets, were all equal because we will end up in the ground, what really matters is how you spend your life, being happy. Being happy as the poorest man in the world or the richest or anything in-between, materials don't matter they never did, no one will ever know you existed but you were there, happy and alive, thats all life should be about, not focusing on problems that don't exist. So yea, the cliche of "you only live once" did work its way in, you better spend it right because there is only one ending.

Wish you all a thousand good experiences.
~Arl's

hope it makes it to erowid

sad to say, i got back in, i used, for a while... months again this time. but, suboxone and clonazepam have saved me again. this is all for my own benefit, this is for no one else, so i do appologize to myself for almost dying, but i'm on my way... i CAN do it. i love myself. and i love you all...


oeace!!!

I say a lot of things prematurely and with entirely too much emotion involved a lot. I tend to put the cart before the horse, I tend to do things irrationally.

I can say for certain that one day, maybe not today and maybe not in a year but one day I am going to marry this wonderful woman I have.

I know without a doubt, without any insecurity, without...whatever that she will have my back and be by my side and with us for the rest of my life.

I can't believe I'm this lucky, and I could feel like this. I know this sounds all mush and crap but I don't give a fuck.

She loves us flaws and all. She's lasted through burn outs and she wants to be here with us through all the bad AND good times. She is a wonderful person and treats us like gold, what more could a person ask for?

Like the song from Alexander goes:

"Its like a spun tongue
its like a HOLY SHIT!
its like a live death...
a deep breath..."

No words can describe all this, closet that comes to it is..... HOLY SHIT! then go take a deep breath in the coldest freakin place in the world AFTER having an adrenaline rush/high.

It's freakin amazing! :D

test

Having a concussion, believe it or not, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It exposed a few people, gave me a better idea of who's real and who was a fake ass bitch just trying to take advantage. Needless to say, I'm better off now, minus two negative toxic forces in my life. Good riddance to them both. It's hard to lose friends, but once a day goes by and you've had time to realize, "Oh shit... they were never even friends to begin with"... it makes it kind of hard to care. Which I don't. Anymore. Not really, anyway. I do care about the loss of an extra $20 a week for driving her kids to school, but that barely covered the gas for it anyways. And I do care about the money the other person stole, leaving me completely and utterly BROKE for the rest of this month. But, you know... that just further proves my point. About them both.

Also realized who actually DOES care about my well-being. It's always nice to know that certain people will come crawling out of the woodwork when you're in a rough spot, people you didn't even know were watching your posts or cared about you. I just made that sound really creepy lol. What I mean is, the night of my concussion (and a few rough nights following it afterwards), a couple people I never expected to came crawling out of the woodwork just to cheer me up. My one friend that I haven't talked to in ages was sending me funny pictures of animals all night while I was in the ER. Another one took me out to dinner and was really attentive all night to making sure my head was alright, even if he was giving me a hard time about it (he's a professional BMXer, so I can understand that I guess. He's seen worse). Another friend that I haven't even seen OR talked to in AT LEAST 8 years pulled up a bunch of information about post-concussive syndrome, and then she posted it on my wall, letting me know she was thinking of me and what not. And then, of course, there's my best friend (who really doesn't need any confirmation, but still) who brought me food and visited me when I got back from the hospital, since I'm on bed rest and completely bored all of this week. Another friend saw my posts (one I made when I was at a VERY low point, I literally just wanted to curl up and die) and called me immediately, saying, "If you EVER feel like this, you pick up the phone and call me. No excuses." That was nice. And then, biggest surprise of all, was... we'll just call him M (aka guy I broke off the toxic relationship with a few weeks back)... who called me at 3 in the morning to talk me through some bullshit. So even though I lost two "friends"... a better word would be frenemies, actually... there were more people who gained a big amount of my trust and respect. It was cool to know for sure who truly has my back.

The thing about being at rock bottom like that, is that there's nowhere to go but up. You can either GIVE up... or you can CLIMB up. I choose the second option. Rock bottom is the best place to put things into perspective and make drastic life changes, because honestly, what do you have to lose when you're as low as you can possibly get? Nothing. So I had a few epiphanies, made a few major life decisions and got the ball rolling on changing a few things. I've got pretty much everything on lockdown now. The only things that are reall y stressing me out at the moment still are my addiction (no matter what I do, I just can't seem to get past the point I'm at right now. It's not getting worse, it's just that I'm having an impossible time tapering down further), and the debt that I'm in. My financial situation just absolutely SUCKS. It wouldn't bother me so much if it weren't for the fact that I can't look for a job right now. The job hunt came to a stand still when my one "frenemy" offered me $20 a week to drive her kids to school and babysit them afterwards, it wasn't much, but it was enough to make me feel far more secure, knowing I had an extra source of income. And once she exposed herself for the waste of life that she is... well, needless to say, I wasn't doing HER anymore favors. But now I can't look for a job because of this concussion, and it's stressing me out. I'd feel SO much better about it if I knew I was doing something proactive to change my financial situation, but there's nothing I can do. I can't drive right now, or go on interviews, even filling out a simple job application is just too much work for me right now. That part sucks. And unfortunately, money is extremely important to me, so it's weighing on my mind A LOT.

Oh well. The important thing is, is that I'm at least TRYING to make positive changes... and I am making them in other areas, even if it's not in the areas that are (to me) the most important. Well, except for school. I'm really glad I solved that part. Oh well. My addiction and my financial situation are the biggest obstacles in my life at the moment, so I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on myself. Especially not right now. One step at a time, right? Baby steps.

Everything will work out alright.

I never thought I would get to this point, and yet it seems I have. I have chosen to write about it here. I have fully left my addiction behind.

I don't know why I prefer to write these things on BlueLight, where I know absolutely no one and there's a very small chance anyone I do know will find me. But perhaps this is for the best.

Sometime over the past year, as I have gone through treatment, three distinct things occurred to me that pushed me farther and farther away from the life of a heroin addict (or rather, a double life as a "productive" member of society and a heroin addict) and into the great void of reality. Real life.

The first great thing that occurred was my overdose on November 5, 2010. I will never forget it. After viewing heroin as my warm, fuzzy, toxic blanket that could do no wrong, it never occurred to me that being just a little careless could actually kill me. The overdose, I should note, was an accident. I had only been in treatment for two months, I was not taking my meds (Suboxone and an anti-depressant called Effexor), and I had just attended a memorial service for my grandmother, who died one year before. That was a very bad time in particular, and a hard one to relive even by memory. Any moment I wasn't crying at the wake or funeral I could barely keep my eyes open. I could barely function. There was so much pain and guilt that no amount of heroin could wipe it out. Throughout the service I kept limping on one leg due to a botched injection the previous night. There was an ounce of dope at my disposal, and I went through it by the time I was limping back to New York.

Anyway, the first week of November was very bad. I had never forgiven myself for not being there for my grandmother in hospital, when she needed me. Excuses of working late and traveling plans that could not be changed and so forth kept me away. When my grandmother died, she still envisioned me as the young, beautiful, hardworking granddaughter she'd come to know and love. I did not want her to see me as I was in that moment - sickly, sallow, and shaking, or so high my eyes could have rolled out of my head. Who would want to leave their grandmother with that as her last memory? I was her favorite granddaughter, I was the girl out doing things to make the family proud.

there's no better thing than this. no idle-free time to muffle my laziness. it's for the good of the land. my land.
my land is purple with christmas shoved in its face. my land can build suspension bridges with delicate fingers on poised knees while brewing time's most unimaginable cup of coffee. it never cools but spreads through and litters the earth with electrolyte greenery full of brilliant blooms of velvet carpet. all the while oceans scream passionate love ballads to tiny pebbles just out of reach.
leaves forever in transition and sprinkled with sugar yield coffee droplets ready for perfect consumption. branches like the oldest sofas waiting for nap nappington to nestle sweetly among ludvig van winds and maidens hair skies.

can someone please help me out on what i posted yesterday .. i have this new fent patch (well, the new brand) the mallinkrodt (sp?) they are the weird really thick clear ones. i am in a lot of pain and it itsnt helping at all.. has anyone else found a way to extract the fent? or ANY advice on making them work better? please help asap thanks in advance!

Test pharma blog post