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Truth is, to be sure, an absolute notion, in the following sense: "true for me but not for you" and "true in my culture but not in yours" are weird, pointless locutions. So is "true then, but not now." [...] James would, indeed, have done better to say that phrases like "the good in the way of belief" and "what it is better for us to believe" are interchangeable with "justified" rather than with "true." (Rorty 1998, p. 2)

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Beneath a moss covered rock.. Between eroded crevasses, and sheltered among epiphytes.

Is a notion of what we believe to see... hear or mean.
Interpreting that all man's knowledge is partial... Amazing ---- yes indeed.

All of Human-unkind's knowledge is partial.

I hope you read that thoroughly---> Fallibility.

My conception is manifested unreliability.

The heart of bitchiness. I befall ...

A pragmatic maxim.

so i just don't think i can take it anymore. my mom's such a cunt and my brother is now my sister since the insurance case finally got worked out last week and the check cleared. i just can't take it anymore. i don't know what i would do if i didn't have me bl journal with 336 entries and only 2 replies and they were both from spork welcoming me to journal because she forgot she had done it already. everybody is ALWAYS forgetting me. omg life is so shitty the only reason i even get out of bed anymore is to eat pop tarts but now i'm fat and nobody likes fatties. maybe if i just take more acid i'll be happy? but i can't afford acid, so i'll just crack smoke my way to happiness. good bye journal, if you need me i'll be in the garage huffing paint thinner and/or cutting myself.

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came across this little gem while browsing the threads up for deletion.
brought back memories.

i just want to be happy
spare me the technicalities
the small doses of wtf
i still know nothing
about contentment or how it comes about
i have to be happy where i am
before im happy any where else

It's a love hate relationship. It's kind of abusive too.

Being idle mentally is by far the worst of all idles.

...and now i'm just stupid.

I have this issue with my image - people always think I'm 18-20 and I'm actually 25. But my body is turning into something even I like to look at in the mirror. I like the way this is turning out, because none of the people in my family lose their hair, which means that when I'm 35 I'm going to be very sexy. Like Daniel Craig sexy - with that body that looks like he doesn't work out but somehow everything just looks good. I think it's very healthy to have sex every day, not just for self-esteem and comfort with one's own body, but for the stomach excercise as well.

I also find myself smelling just wonderful all the time.

The other day I was at a strip club around noon just chatting it up with the workers, and one of the strippers suggested that I talk to her friend about a housecleaning job that pays fantastically. All a skinny male has to do is wear a jock strap and clean rich old men's houses with a feather duster. I hear it pays pretty well, and she said I have the perfect "grown-up twink" look for it.

The sixth days of my 'kicking the habit' at home, myself with no special medication help not counting neuroleptics that doesn't put me to sleep anymore and loperamide for obvious reasons. Sure it has to be painful but I've always liked it better up my ass than seeing a fountain out of it.

I thought: alright, my run is over, everyone's run ends sooner or later whatever way it happens. And what I do? I start that stupid smart brain of mine to get some money borrowed (I always pay my debts back). It's just this feeling for a couple of hours when I throw away the syringe, sit on the floor, listen to alternative rock ballads and don't give a damn about anything. I fool myself telling myself it is it which has fooled me while it is me who's fooled oneself... Like it was this Angel coming from above to wipe every tear that I shed.

I've got two spare months. I want to spare them on getting high as a kite until I run out of money. Why? Because.

I play The Great Gig in the Sky and I think: we don't notice those little things that build the whole life and that they are what makes it worth fighting for. But I don't. This void, this emptiness kills me. I truly don't believe I'm going to get through the following years the way I should, the way I want. No part of my life is satisfactory and that's not the reason to take drugs. The reason is actually the urge not to think about this stuff.

Fuck it, fuck me, fuck us all junkies. I guess addicts are probably the all-time active writers in all fields. Well, a few more sentences to write but I write shit when withdrawing which is completely misunderstood but actually has a good point. Anyway, nobody ever got it right whatever I wanted to say.

Even though I am feeling this feeling. It is unbelievable that a person could feel like this.

Well, I went tonight and spent money I shouldn't have on dope. (Meth is called dope here cause we don't really have heroin and crystal is sometimes called ice..)
I had been taking pills all day to try to quiet the craving since we had been unable to find any for the last 2 days or so.

A quarter of a gram runs $30 and $60 for a half. The shit is so expensive and it doesn't last long. I could only allow myself he quarter but between the 3 of us, me, my friend and the dealer. It didn't really cut it. I have only been doing it for about a month so compared to the other 2 guys I'm not as skilled with it nor have the lung capacity, so I don't get as good of a hit and feel a lil jipped.

So I waited until the dealer left and decided I would bang some of it. My friend prepped it for me. I could have done it myself but I didn't want to end up putting too much in, that could be bad. Went down without a hitch, but really, I prefer smoking it. My friend was very happy to hear that. He wasn't too fond of me banging it, he just wasn't going to tell me what to do with my own body and my own dope. It could have been that there wasn't enough in it but I like smoking it better because it has a good rush, you get to enjoy it more, longer, and it is more of a social thing. Needles have such a stigma attached to them that it certainly isn't social.

I will finally admit that I am in deeper into this than I really want to face. I can't believe it only took this long for the cravings to start. I said I was going to maybe do it only once a week but I have been doing it way more than that and when we can't find any that lil green meth monster starts chewing on my brain, "dope, dope, dope, dope". After a couple hits it quiets down and is content for a lil while. But I know it's gonna come back. Really the quarter was just a freaking tease. Just made me want more and of course enough is never enough. So I went and took the last of my Tramadol because it can get me a lil spun up.
I thought that I would be ok since I wasn't taking a whole gram at once. Well I was wrong. Total I think I had taken about 1,300 mgs and once I hit 1,000, I puke. It took awhile to kick in but my friend said my face just drained of all color and I said I didn't feel good.
Great a freaking repeat of the oxy puking episode. But it wasn't too bad, just once. Other than I had eaten VERY little and some,some how came out my nose. Now that was a new gross one for sure! I think it was how I had my head tilted. But I at least feel better now.

My arm really hurts though. It feels like I have a quarter sized bruise where I shot the dope. But there isn't one visible. I had a friend look at it and he says its hard to tell but it looks like a clean shot and I'll be ok. I hope so, I don't wanna try to explain that one! No more for me.

I really need to get a handle on this stuff. Cut back. Hell, I'm kinda motivated to get more hours at work just so that I can have more money to buy dope. That's not good. I'mstarting to worry a little and seeing how this can become very negative but I don't want to quit. Stupid I know, but I like it and I don't want to quit doing it for whatever reason...I really am not 100% sure why. It seems like the more I do it the more I like it or something. Maybe that is what addiction is...
I also wonder what I'm doing to my brain. I already have a lot of issues in there, could I be setting myself up for another psychotic episode?

It just doesn't seem to click.

This just doesn't seem like the girl that would end up banging meth. I feel like I live 2 different lives and actually I kinda do at times because I keep so much hidden. The sweet, up and coming girl who is going to college, and the wild drug using, never high enough party girl. I certainly can't live the last one forever.

I feel lost. I try to work it out in my blogs rather than on the threads. I seem to have a lot of trouble there lately. I don't know if its the meth or what. I think my interaction is normal but perhaps its not. I know that I "talk" a lot more than I set out to but that's kinda normal for any stimulant. I just feel like I don't quite belong anywhere. I'm just some misfit who can't fit anywhere.

I'd be more than willing to talk to anyone about all this through PM, just spare the lecture. I heard the warnings and didn't listen and now I'm getting into trouble. That is my fault, I thought I could handle it. Doesn't everyone who starts it? I just feel the need to talk to someone. I don't know if it's because it's such a secret and it bothers me or I'm just spun.

My good friend Alastair is in the army and has just come back to town from military exercises and is coming over for dinner tomorrow night.

We have occasionally got physical. He is very attractive and a good all round bloke to have as a friend with benefits, which he was before Ben and I started seeing each other.

So my flatmate Declan will be home. We are not hanging out much these days due to work and differing opinions on what real friends with benefits are.

He does not have what it takes to be a real true friend really. Hes usually nice but has been a cunt a couple of times so Im not interested in having much else to do with him.

I hope things are not weird tomorrow as Ali and I could fool around. Even he we dont we are very touchy feely. I would feel strange if it were Declan bringing a chick here. So I should talk to him about it but if I do he will probably make a big deal about of being uncomfortable rather than him being hurt.

I miss Ali. Hes older than me and really grounded. Its that vibr is the big difference between him and Declan.

Yanno what I find really nice?

I find it to be really nice of the fella who works behind the bar at the club because he partially opens my waterbottle before he gives it to me because he knows i'm too fucked up and weak to be able to open it myself and he knows that if he didn't I would probably die of dehydration because I would never be able to open it.

When I was in my twenties
I lived in an apartment
And every Saturday morning
Around 4:00 A.M..
I would hear the couple next door having sex through the walls

I’d lie on my bed
Smoke my cigar
And listen
“Call me a whore baby!” she shouted
“You nasty whore, I’ll fuck you to shreds!” he responded
She moaned and moaned
The lucky bastard…

Sometimes I would jack off and imagine what they were doing though that white wall
But after the first month
It just became mind-numbing
But there was one night I remember clearly
He called her a whore just as he did every other night
But this time
They weren’t having sex

There was the sound of a glass breaking
Followed by a thud smack against the wall
I went outside to smoke a cigarette
And saw the man who fucked her every week in a pair of handcuffs
He was getting in the back of a flashing police car
She was in a ambulance

I never quite understood what it all meant

sittin at the counter in the diner with nothin but a cup of coffee staring me back. The sound of plates clattering together and the swing of the kitchen door is always comforting. Every one looks the same anywhere you go. Pies and cakes behind the glass counter and women past their prime sighing and eyein up the tips in their apron pockets reminding themselves that theres a reason they work their hands to the bone in this bright formica purgatory.

Looking around booth to booth and nobodys alone. Everybody happy,at first I feel jealous but really I cant envy their ignorance. At least I know the score. Nothin is dependable except that everythings eventual. I can count on age, on my body slowly softening and fallin, I can trust gravity. i can count on drivin down the highway in the dark with no real destination just tryin to find somethin that dont exist. I can count on people leavin when it really counts, too, and I can count on there always bein a generic greasy spoon to rest my body in a minute to feel some kind of belonging, and people pretendin to care long enough til i get the check.

I know I dont belong here lookin like this. theyd say, hey now, wats a girl like you doin lookin so down? Come on sweetheart, cheer up will ya. It aint so bad! and Im sittin here feelin like fuckin ernest hemingway or some other bullshit miserable old fuck of a man who I probably would of hated if I ever seen them in real life. But here I am, and I see the same scene played out in hole in the wall bars and other questionable establishments at 30, 40, when my smile starts to wrinkle and the makeup just looks sad.

I can feel the imaginary cloud Im casting over everybody, but i know they probably dont even notice. Here I am brewin in my tired-ass feelings almost feelin guilty for bringin people down but I know they just as oblivious to me as I am to their family night at the diner lives. The waitresses probably prefer a handsome guy in a suit, just off the job, ready to be called hon and served "the regular". but they got me, a young one with no right to feel the way I do and quietly hope i get the fuck out.

I know they thinkin about that spot and how a real tipper could be sittin in my seat right now. How Im wastin their time with stupid coffees and not even a goddamn piece of toast or something. I know they hate me for sittin here silent , walkin around lookin like my dog just died or somethin. Jesus I can see my reflection in the pie case and its a joke. I dont even wanna look at my own bullshit-ass frowning face. everyone wonderin, the fuck is HER problem?

and they dont know that I been there too, and I know how its like to make your living off shinin everybody elses shoes, cleaning their shit and dirty toilets, feeding their fat ass bellies with a dinner on a warm plate and learning to apologize for even existing so you can take a couple dollars home for the night. They dont know that I care, for no reason except because I been there and I am there, and every day is a repeat of the last one and because fuck it. Why not.

They think Im some dumb bitch with a attitude problem walkin around all screw face for no reason, stingy ass no food orderin cunt who cant make polite conversation, just sit there and stare at the cheesecake behind the glass and probably leave a quarter on the counter when I go. But let em think wat the fuck they want. theyll see when I leave, when I give em more than it even costs for that little cup of diner coffee and Ill smile thinking about how maybe theyll feel a little better when I prove them wrong. I dont want thanks I just want somebody to know that I know they matter, and maybe somebody will show me the same thing someday. If not, fuck it, I still broke the mold of the parade of jackasses that streams in those doors every day demanding this and that and not even bothering to consider that waitresses make 2.80-something per hour to serve their rude asses.

I aint in the right body, I swear. Sometimes I wish I was old and ugly, so people couldnt say that youre young and pretty, go out and have some fun bullshit. I dont want to have fun, fun is shooting a fucking poison into my veins and the funnest part is hopin I dont wake up. Now thats amusement. Its goddamn fuckin great.

I cant take it anymore, I know my mood is like a magnetic force around me repelling everyone in the room,and it dont even feel that good to get away from the night anyways. I clean up my strip of counter and walk to the register, I aint gotta say a word. Two coffees? in a greek accent and I think god damnit that bitch wasnt giving me a refill when she offered all nice, more coffee? but hey wats 50, 85 cents anyways. even I got that much.

She rings it up and then somethin must be wrong because I see 1.25 flicker across the register, wait, twice? And here I was feelin like doin something right for once, and they want a buck twenty five for a 6 oz cup? And I pull a five from my pocket and get the change for the $2.68 and think about how this is one less bag tomorrow and in my mind i shake my head.

I aint got no job, no real possibilities for one, and they charge me more for 12 ounces than I would pay at a dunkin donuts even with a strawberry frosted. I dont go around on some lavish bougie-coffee-drinkin shit like that, Why the hell do you think i sit in a diner and only order a coffee? Because my budge is goddamn eighty five cents, and Im saving all the other cash I got for that sweet hit of bliss thats gonna knock me into the next galaxy the next chance I get to hit a home run into my arm.

Even when you tryina be nice they fuck ya. Aint that the truth.

But I pay the bitch, and fuck it. I put a dollar down under the ketchup bottle anyways and walk back out into the night rain.

This week I was greeted with the news that the situation up north has deteriorated, when any reasonable person would have expected that things couldn't have gotten much worse. The situation with the business and the industrial relations body is coming to a head in the next few weeks and for us, it's looking very ugly.

Mum is in a pretty medicated state and my sister has taken over handling the case, her recommendation that we settle out of court seems to be the right course of action, but mum can't understand how heavily the evidence is weighted against us. She wants to fight, in court, and for dad... a loss could result in us losing the business, maybe even her house.

Before this week I could have stated with some conviction that my sister was holding up well but the stress is getting to her and in our heated phone call on Thursday night, she was able to share some of that stress with me.

In turn I can't help but feel that this latest setback to my family is putting my recovery at risk. It's been a very sober three weeks now, during which time I have started putting some things in my life back together, even making tentative plans for the immediate future... the way a person does when they can actually see a future.

Still, I find myself growing so weary of reality so quickly.

I've been thinking lately about the person I used to be; someone others would have described as being cheerful, happy, social, relaxed, trusting, even positive. Every day that passes, I find the very idea of that person ever having been here more and more foreign.

I wake up drenched in anxiety, I spend the day lost in a haze of disinterest and at night I walk home cloaked in feelings of regret, remorse and an ever-deepening sadness about my life and the fortunes of my family.

Recently I've been noticing that I don't find many things funny anymore, taking other things way too seriously and also being quicker to anger. Alongside all of this... a growing sense, one that gnaws away at my conscience, that part of what is happening to my family is somehow the result of my actions (or inactions).

I don't know how to explain that this idea isn't just the warped thinking of someone who wants to be down on themself or someone desperately seeking to attach some karmic meaning to the tragedy that's playing out before them. It's just hard to accept that so many truly shit things, occurring with such cold indifference, should rain down in a such a short time.

Really I'm the biggest idiot god ever made. I'm bound and determined to ruin everything in my life. WHY WHY did I go off my med and all this other shit? Did I turn my brain off? If I can get through today without something horrible happening that would be awesome!! Get through this week? Oh please god...

free dope from seventeen year old kids! woo hoo! I thought it was a drunk dial from the neighbor, all he wants is clean gear!

Mephedrone is seriously like fucking god. Its so funny because every time before i'm about to do it i'm like wow this is a bad idea...and then i do it anyways and as soon as I come up i'm like how could I have thought this was a bad idea.

I am going to the club on friday with some friends.

Meph makes talking so effin difficult.

comin comin comin comin upup upperrrup comin comin uppppp cheayyy

I'm drivin down the Meph highway to heaven at speeds in excess of 1trillion, driving blinded and backwards.

Have you ever caught yourself clenching your jaw so much and was relieved to know that you caught yourself doing it...only to be caught with the fear that perhaps next time you might not realize your jaw was clenching for so long and you would crush your teeth.

If you haven't I assure you it isn't as worrisome of a thought as you may think. But merely a interesting thought in which you thought.

Welcome to bad idea central where bad ideas become good ideas and good ideas become god. END. WIN. And hence starts round 3 of a terrible awful blissfunl game I call Mephopoly. The object of the game is to be more awesome than you actually are Let the games begin!

I think I'm in the lead! But iIm gaining on myself fast. Who knows who will come out ahead in a game like this! It's anyone game tonight!

My eyes are jealous because want to dance like I do. ...and I myself am equally as jealous of their fluttering madness. They just dance and flutter and dance and I tell them to behave but who am I to ruin a high like they're experiencing. My eyes are in heaven tonight and I'm not far behind. I'm rootin for them all the way!...and they're pullin for me too! I have a feeling we're gonna be havin a good time tonight but it is only possible that it will be as good as it is, because of those zany crazy eyes.

...and Isn't it always the case that you''e never happy with what you have, you always want something that someone else has. Luckily I have developed a plan to make everyone happy. However, shortly after formulating my plan I realized my eyes and myself are one in the same....and so it was written and so it was done... and all in all it seemed to work out pretty well for the both of us.

I know a pretty unique group of individuals who are in a power struggle to decide who is feeling the most amazingest blissness heavenlike godhighmephedrone this wonderful night that we have here tonight...I don't like to point out names but I think it's critical (I would like to take a second to point out that I could not think of a suitable word to put where I currently have critical and I thought for a good long time but important would not suffice so I typed the word important into thesaurus and low and behold as I read down that list of ever so equally wonderful words I was met with my perfect match and so we've been together ever since?....I think it is critical that I let these fantastic individuals be known to the world and they are My legs, my arms, my knees, my stomach, my heart, BOTH my colons the little ovary twins and last but not least my head because he is the ring leader and without his contributions none of this could be possible.

SOMEONES teeth are going to be sore tomorrow. What else is new?


I should not have done this at all tonight but we all know that doesn't mean anything and now I am reaching that point where I should stop dosing because the euphoria has turned into a very scattered excited ADHD-like euphoria whereas the desired euphoria is concentrated and clean cut. I am a little proud of myself however because I managed to do 4 doses but not go over 400mg.


Mkitties are actually alien drones sent from outerspace to commander human brains. They are very tricky and most humans are not affected by them because only until recently when a chemist concocted a chemical called 4-Methylmethcathinone, which is the key to unlocking full and uncensored access to our brains, humans began putting this substance up their nostrils. Once there, hope was all but forgotten and the humans were enticed by their own selves to dose and redose. And once it was all over the ever so tricky kitties shut off the command and the humans were free.... except that eventually they would want to do it again and the process would just repeat itself. Luckily the only harm done the the human was physical, during the physical destruction, the human was entranced in a state of pure ecstasy.

There's a new title under my name, as no doubt others have noticed. For the first time in ~5 years, I logged on today as a member of Bluelight Crew.

A lot led up to this decision and I know to a lot of you this probably seems pretty abrupt. I thought pretty hard about this, and came to the conclusion that it is in my best interest to step into a role with less visibility.

I will still be around here and there as a member of Bluelight Crew, but definitely not as much as when I was on staff, and maybe not for a little while.

If anyone would like to reach me that doesn't have my contact information, please drop me a PM or, preferably an e-mail. I won't be logging on every day anymore, but I am often available on AIM, gchat, and other sites that some of you already communicate with me on.

I wish Bluelight and especially the members of staff with whom I have worked the most closely all the best. I start an IRL volunteer position in about a month that is going to be mentally and emotionally taxing. It's time I got off the computer and started doing things differently - and so that is that, I'm retired.

Cookie:

Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.

G'day blog,

Im a weee bit drunk and a weeee bit high. I stepped off the wagon last night, its been months and its still affecting me. Im writing here to procrastinate from going to the shops to get food for my lorikeet.

I have decided to buy a Phillipino husband. Ive already had one and they are great, but I want a full blood gorgeous hunk with no issues.

Apart from that, all is kinda dull. My flatmate is going ok, we dont talk much as I cant be bothered and neither can he when there is tv.

My dad had a heart attack this week but he is home from the hospital and ok. He tried to lecture me on the phone but its my turn to give him lip.

Bloodt lumpy blood going thru his heart and hes giving ME shit!! OH no you dont dad!

Anyway. going out tonight apparently with some girls from work. Tarted up to the nines. Ill bet ya I bail and go tp bed instead!! HAHA

i think mdpv is a cool guy. Eh keeps up awake for 4 days and doesnt afraid of stimulant psychosis. But my sat evening was great.

Music...an important force in our lives. But what kind of force? It makes us happy, sad, angry, excited, inspired, disgusted...it changes us. From the worst cover to the most tearful and heartfelt live guitar solos, this is evident. So why do we focus on static tracks and not the live or the reinterpreted? Music is supposed to crack the shells our souls are encased in and let them touch the rest of the world. This is why I love guitar hero. Even despite its static nature, it still is a form of creation - every track I play well binds into my psyche and plucks the strings of my heart as I press each note. Music is both meditation and prayer for change at its highest level...maybe recognition as such would spur greater art and appreciation.

I know that I have blogged a lot lately, I doubt a single one was anywhere near sober. Now that the money is pretty much gone and the scripts have run out. Sober is reality. Other than alcohol I guess but I KNOW and KEEP learning that me and alcohol is a really bad combo. I don't think my current weight helps much because it doesn't take much to get me tanked. Everclear is idiotic, period.

Jesus I have done so many idiot things lately. I want to take a moment to say I'm sorry to those who actually are still around enough to read it.
Posting when high seems fine, because to you, you feel fine and pretty normal.
Apparently I spend time rambeling, not thinking about what I saying, and pretty much making a total ass out of myself. Pretty much how stimulants can effect most people. So for that I'm sorry.

Right now I decided to take a post from another thread and add it here as well to be kept for myself and for others to also see that well, I can be somewhat clear-headed and realistic. Although when you're in the shit hole, it isn't fun to look at.
Looking in the mirror can really such at times.

"My bf called me on being off my medication (I'm sure the drug use going through the roof isn't helping at all either). Why did I ever go off? Because I thought I would be ok. No. Perhaps that's why I've kinda made an ass out of myself as of late.
He said we had done this before. When he met me, I had a set plan for my suicide. He was my support until the meds started working and I could get it together. He said we can do it again, together.
But lately, he is distance, angry, unreadable and non-responsive so I may have thrown it all out the window to stupidity.
And that fear put me even more at risk.

After reading this post, I did take a look at myself. I am crying for help, but refusing to take action to get it. Why don't I go to therapy?
I'm afraid. Last one, I hinted at a suicidal feeling and it was BAM, my mother in there and demanding inpatient. I will NOT go inpatient. It's hell and lord knows I can't afford any of it.
Other-forced rehab. If I open up about using opiates and meth. I'm so scared I'll end up back in rehab. I want to at least TRY to clean myself up.
Plus there was always the guilt. I'm not on my own, my parents and a good insurance pays for medication and therapy if I decide to get it. But even my mom having the pay the co-pay comes with SO much guilt. As to why she has to pay because I'm fucked up or that is the gist of what she says to me.

I'm hoping once the medication has time to work the thought will stop. I KNOW I need not to get drunk. The last 2 times ended in some psychotic and/or dangerous suicidal behaviors. Depressant you damn idiot...

Right now I'm struggling SO much with my thoughts. I cry so easy, even though I try constantly to force myself to swallow it. I just can't fall to pieces here. Everything else is crashing around me, I at least have to hold it together. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do, but I do know I have no plan and I'm not a suicide risk at this time. I'm just so scared of where I could be. "

My friend knows this and is trying his hardest to get me to go out to the demos (please tell me you guys have those in other places at fairs and shit right?). He said no alcohol, since last night the Long Islands kicked my ass. It keeps the green drug monster away (and as I said in another thread....I should have listened to you guys about meth. I should have listened...) But I just ended up sitting alone crying and then decided to drive myself home...drunk. When will I have a day that I don't act like an idiot?

I am depressed and don't want to go. I have a TON of homework I need to do (I have become completely unmotiated to even try anymore). Plus applications to fill out and resume to redo/update.
The 3 hours a week for $8 an hour isn't cutting it. Not to mention I spend money on meth. IDOT.
But I have to kick myself for thinking, new job, more pay = more money for drugs.
I have to say "Jesus Leslie when will it end. Knock this shit off already. Before it happens like your friend said it would, him picking you up on a street corner to take you home to your mother because he can't stand to watch you die."
Coming back to reality SUCKS.

I hope that through reading this blog and some of my more sober posts, that some of the non-drugged, real me, who really is a decent person might just show a little. Who I am and what I'm doing isn't matching anymore. And I have to work on that...