Blogs

6/19/09

I want more chemicals!

6/20/09

I finished the last of my bag last night. Sighing, i tell myself i cant go on like this. Easy advice in theory, but feel the w/ds quickly even with the supplements in the form of chronic fatigue @ 1st, a few days later, everything feels like a fucking chore, no damn magic, no writing, no net, just work, sleep, & TV dreading the fact of havn 2 get out of bed 2 work becoz i have 2 & not wanting 2 do anything fun or social. What scares me is that i was meth free 12 days & still felt tired, crappy, not wantn 2 do n e thing. On the other hand by using frequently, i dont want 2 leave my room or the drug den, as Mom refers 2 my best friends, mainly coz i hate drivn under nfluence, also coz my room or the drug den is my playground & playtime. N spite of my disappointments with certain deals, its usually a happy & fun time and the magic is there enhanced by the chems. I felt bad not bein there 4 Jeff 2nite 4 his 2 yr clean chip, not coz i didnt want 2 c him, but due 2 the angst i felt after my afteroon dose & since i now have 2 pay $40 nstead of $10 for Rx dope, i had no opiate/barb 2 smooth out the angst. Others sense it 2. My dealer com n td i seemed rather nervous when he

askd me 2 drive 2 unfam territory. My pt's mom wonderd y my toes were clutchn my sandals, again when she askd me 2 do unfam routine last Tues. I wasnt really spun, but nervous ticks or idiosyncrisies appear n odd ways. Dave comentd once bout how i touch my fingers 2 my thumb, even if no meth was taken for 3 days, yet n my system. I new it would b a bad idea 2 c the NA gang & theyd prolly guess wot was up. Sigh. Sorry Jeff. Using almost daily means not bein able 2 do n e thin outside work & b alone & high + writn or bein @ the drug den, but i cant do shit away from my comfort zone high or i panic. If i dont get high most chores get done, even the 1s i hate & i can do social shit w normies, but the fuckn weight issue comes back + theres no more magic & creativity an certainly no sex. The schedule best.

6/20/09

So 15 days went by nstead of 8 last nite when i went 2 pick up Rx dope. Becoz i got my Rx b4 work, i was able 2 calm the fuck down a bit & not forcd 2 feel this angst/tension. I no 2 its a good thing im b n forced 2 cut my Rx ntake by 1/2. At least its a step n the rite direction. Ive given myself permission 2 finish the heavy meth use (approx a gram/wk i think) til the end of the month coz i specifically took next 2 Tues off so id have 3 days n a row off work 2 play. Not sure how am gonna go bout it, but perhaps best 2 cut meth use n 1/2 like i did w the pills nstead of cutn it off completely. Im hopn it would also cut back on the fatigue & complete gray outlook on life 2 start.

Like i said b4, i love playtime so much, if i had my way, id live my life all n my head b n a recluse or hangn at the den. Hell even when i was clean for 27 mo, the drug den friends were the only ones i cud socialize with due 2 my workn graveyard + wk/ends. I sleep n the day, they r the only 1s that r not confined 2 normie hrs. I didnt c them a lot, as the chem magic was missn from my life & when i saw the fun they were havn, i wantd 2 get high 2, but cudnt, so didnt c much of them, but always felt welcome there+they r a part of my past, none of which my NA friends shared. Ive got my den pals + 2 guys that kept normal hrs, so that makes the den my social life. I dont need alot of friends, but am grateful 2 have at least 1 place i can go n e time an feel completely at home more than n e other friends. I only hope i manage the tapern sucesfuly startn next mo. I no i have 2 do somethin bout this asap coz it only gets worse..

6/21/09

This mornin after work, i stopd @ dealer's as agred, but no answer when i called. Sighing 2 myself, coz although nconvenient i new he wud get back 2 me & that he was prolly stil asleep. He lives close 2 wher i work so i try 2 c him on way home & sometimes it works out, others like yesterday no. I did my food shopn, did errands, came home, showrd, washd hair, then just as i was ready 2 climb n2 bed, my connect calld. I somehow new that wud hapn. He said sory he didnt show up b4, told me 2 meet him @ some spot. I went 2 wher i thought he meant, but it gets confusn, as almost every time we hook up, its a dif spot. He got pisd, & although i cud have told him hes the 1 misd our appt earlier, i held my tongue. He's my only direct connect, he has good shit + he actually connects eventually. So, i d cided 2 let the angry sarcasm slide coz i didnt want 2 piss him off 4 now. I did more erands after, came home, crashd a good 9 hrs & actualy stuck 2 the no using plan 4 the day. I want 2 take a 2 & 1/2 day break from the shit. I bought more supplements 2 ease the w/ds, am @ work now & so far feel fine. Somehow, someway i want 2 cut meth use by 1/2, c dealer 1x/wk, nstead of 2x startn next month, just like ive done w Rx dope. N fact wot i shud do is start meth cut back next wk, thats my goal. I hope i have the strength 2 make it work, but not havn 2 work next 2 Tues shud help w that. Fingers crosd coz i REALLY want & need 2 cut back on the shit, eventually get back on usn schedule of 90 days off/1 wk on. Lord give me strength..

see you on tv!

June 21, 2009
Well after waiting for a time when I could BL…the internet decides to just being a bitch. So I guess I’m stuck writing this out on word until idk some magic happens or something. I really don’t know what I’m going to do after I write this because Sean is going to still be gaming and there is really nothing I can do but stare at the fucking wall. But I kinda bet that he really doesn’t care.


Wait, I forgot lets back up. Wednesday night I went to spend some time with some friends. Movie, Pizza, talk. We go down to the same friend’s place I mentioned before. We have a few drinks, smoke a bit. But we run out. This friend runs me to the ATM and to the source for more. I never wanna drive high. Ok so…

Anyway, back to where I was. I met this guy at the bar and had a few drinks on last Thursday. We talked more. Really the story was that we were dating, almost BF and GF in my eyes. And then it was fuck and run. He just left for Christmas break without a word for a month or more. So I just picked up myself and moved on. I have told him time and time again how much it hurts and how angry I am. It seems that I am constantly filled with this anger that I have never had before and don’t really know how to handle. But he and I’m sure perhaps others, know they messed up. Hell, I’m a decent girl. And he said he kicks his own ass for it now and then. Too bad I guess.


Well I text a guy that I met before at the bar to see what he is doing. He says he is at home, like a block away. I tell him he should come up. He said he was broke. Well being the person I am, I tell him I’m running short on cash but I’ll buy him a couple drinks. So he does.


After last call, we are always looking for an after party. Well my friend offers. We head over there. We will and drink and what not. There were a lot of people there. But we smoke the rest that I have with everyone. I don’t mind sharing really, with the hope that it all comes around. But eventually I get invited to the back room, after they figure I’m cool. Drug of choice…meth. It turns out that everyone had been back there in a rotation doing it. Lol so they teach me what to do. First time for me. But after awhile it runs low and its time to start to get rid of people. Well, I have to get rid of the person I came with, well asked to by the owners. We try and try. I’ll explain why later. But we finally get him to leave with the hope that he will think I am too. I actually think he is mad at me and I felt bad for doing it. But I felt like I kinda had no choice. They wanted him gone because they didn’t trust him. He refuses all drugs other than alcohol and has a lot of moral issues we will get into later. I wonder if he will talk to me…but then again. I texted him that I was sorry, and what is done is done.


Afterwards I’m taken back to “get caught up” it’s a funny high. Honestly you just feel awake with no need to sleep or eat. Nothing like losing those annoying basic needs. It’s good. Although the guy with the stuff, well he starts texting me things I don’t want. I have a bf and he has a live in girlfriend. I stand my ground. I won’t do that to Sean. I know the gf is bi-curious and they know how I am. But 1. I don’t wanna do that to Sean, taken. No. 2. Not my type! But he just keeps on and keeps on. I start to wonder if I had agreeing if he might even forgo the gf. Guys like that are slime. But he has the stuff, AND lives with a really nice guy who I think is a really good friend in a short period of time. After smoking it every way you can, hey they are teaching me  I head to work.


I get the nasty news that I have DOUBLE the work. They fucked up on the shipping at the warehouse. So I am on the stuff and busting my ass, but start to come down. FUCK. I stay hours late. I ask the boss if I can leave because there was SO much. He says stay another hour until they are out of their meeting and he will come and look at stuff. Well FUCK THAT. He gets distracted and no one wants to fucking help me or even see if I can MAYBE leave on a FUCKING FRIDAY, when I was hoping to see Sean! After too long, I tell ppl what’s up, that I’m leaving and leave.


I text Sean to see if I can maybe come see him since I miss him so much! But he just says tomorrow. This gets me worried. But I decide perhaps it’s really best not to ask what he is doing instead. I head to the bar to meet a couple friends. But the are having a couple fight and I do NOT want to be in the middle of that. So I go sit at the bar and just chit chat. Not to bad. I get hit on a lot. This is kinda an ego boost but its not like I go there wanting it. I guess the red lipstick can work for me or something. I get texts from the ppl last night. They can’t come up to the bar but they will have a lil more stuff just before close. Well I make a friend and we got smoke some pot before then. I seem to be getting a lot of drugs for free as of late. I try to make clear that the guys don’t have a chance but you know the type that don’t give up and think that if they get you high enough you will change your mind. I think not. But hell I’ll take the drugs, even if I feel like slime sometimes for doing it. But if they offer, why bother to say no, it’s not going to change my mind.


So I get done with that and head down the block. We smoke a lil more crank. Jeez , its so nice never to be tired. It seems like some of them are ready to have their crash or head off to do other things. I decide to go home. I know that I have earned my respect there. I bring, I share, I use I offer money, which they usually turn down. I don’t bother them when I know they have it. No one likes someone always inviting themselves. You just wait, it’s appreciated. I kinda learn how all this works between us. It’s kinda a karma give and take kinda deal.


Eventually I’m hoping that I’m going to hear from Sean and I don’t wanna go over there are just crash since I’ve been up for quite awhile. So I take a sleeping pill and try to get about 7 hours sleep. And I’m still not hearing from Sean by 2 pm. The BPD is really starting to kick in. I’m upset and SCARED. He has claimed to be sick a lot, and my friends have mentioned that a lot too. He blew me off with no reason given Friday night, and I’m still not hearing from him. The BPD fear that I’m being abandoned, real or imagined is kicking in. For the first time after talking it over online with a friend for a bit I lose it. I just start crying. But FINALLY I get a text and he says its ok. I have a lot to do because hell I was about ready to give up. So I head out… but being with Sean and in light of this weekend has brought up a lot of confusing thoughts for me which I guess I’ll get to in my next blog.

Guys, relationships, feelings, wondering if you have found THE ONE. Or could there be someone else who could love you more. One thing I know for sure. I never want to be just a pretty face and a body, I want someone to truly love me, as I am, forever. Do we ever find that? Really...I'll write that up later perhaps. I've posted enough for now.

somewhere between 7pm last night and 7am this morning i caught the flu and feel like total shit. i tried braving work today and got through my full shift, before informing my boss that i wont be in tomorrow. she was disappointed, as were understaffed at the moment; but understood all the same.

so im now chilling in bed with a hot chocolate and comforter hoping that if i stay warm enough ill be able to return to work on thursday. i hate letting my team down; but all the same its not like anyone plans on being sick. im going to visit my gp tomorrow to see if theres anything i can do to speedy up the healing process and have an all round health check; he'll probably tell me that im rundown and just need some rest. i fucking hope not.

the upside of getting sick is spending a day in bed cuddling with my chihuahua. ive missed the little guy.

oh and the bosciaola; i fucked royally. the sugar in the tomatoes and passata caramelized and burned; creating a thick tomatoey toffee goop. i still have a shitload to learn about pressure cooking. thank god for the intertubes.

today i only worked a 6 and 1/2 hour shift which suited me just fine. i was home to see my daughter after school, do her homework with her and read a book together before she ran outside to play with her friends. its been almost 3 weeks since ive had the opportunity to do that; so it meant alot.

the weekend that just passed was fantastic. we visited family on saturday and ate and drank like kings; to then wake up early sunday morning, visit jack; and go shopping. i bought the mr a new pair of diesel jeans, my daughter a heap of junk jewellery that she fell in love with as well as final fantasy 12 for her ds and myself a kickass bessemer pressure cooker. its flame coloured to match all of my other bessemer cookware and i spent the afternoon yesterday making lamb shank and vegetable soup. it was a perfect winter dish and basically cooked itself. i LOVE pressure cooking and am now just brewing a bosciaola sauce for dinner this evening. its taken the effort out of cooking, and will mean ill be able to pull meals out of my ass of a night after work.

as for right now; the mr has blended up some midori splice cocktails and im enjoying one with him before calling it a night and cuddling up after dinner together to watch zoolander.

la dolce vita.

ps. and courtesy of the gorgeous mariacallas, i present to you sparking catnurse. she always sends me the sweetest messages and images; and i just had to share this one with my blog. i love that woman.

Last night, after an eventful day, I dreamt that Kathryn and I were coping with growing up in soviet Russia, where there's lots of radiation energy.

I told her to go to the local prestigious public high school and buy 2 mdma pills, even though they would really only contain tfmpp/bzp for 10 dollars each, and we would each eat one.

Kathryn's a good girl, and she would have done it, but I hated asking her to buy a Schedule I drug.

Hey, I guess you've got to take what you can get.

Ok, I took a break from this so if I repeat myself, sorry. Plus I’m going to make it shorter. My memory is shit and always has been.

Anyway, so my grandma’s lymphoma is back and is spreading to her spleen and god knows where else. The shock kinda set in after that when my mom was telling me about it. I couldn’t imagine losing her. She is my hero, the one person I truly look up to and want to be like. Almost no one can walk into her house without giving her a hug, and she will give you one even if you don’t want one.

I know someday we will lose the people we love the most, trust me I’ve been learning that all too well in the death and dying class. But I’m not ready to face that. There was a quote from a video we watched that hit me hard. Something like, when we finally bury someone, we are forced to accept the truth that we will NEVER see them again in this life time. I know deep down we all know that. But I think of the people I’ve lost and the people I could lose and what I would give to see the ones lost and never lose the ones I love. (The downfall that became the evil of Darth Vader right? Ha-ha too much Star Wars)

Anyway, I ended up writing her just a letter about how much she means to me and how strong I see she is and how much I love her. I know its not like she is FOR SURE going to die and I know it’s kinda morbid, but so many seem to regret what they never said. Plus I wanted something to warm her heart and make her smile when she got home from the hospital and all that chemo. Who knows, perhaps it could help her pain. Lord knows she would never admit she was in much pain at all.


Anyway, back to the week. I’ll make it a bit short since my memory sucks so bad and it was almost 3 weeks ago now. I suffered more panic attacks that week that I had in god knows how long. I started to get pain in my back teeth. Sean had been noticing my jaw swelling at night off and on but I just blew it off. I know I have cracked back teeth from car accidents. I think it’s one with the air bag coming under my chin so hard that it ripped all the skin off my neck that may have done it. But finally I had to try my hardest to get into the dentist. I was REALLY hoping for some painkillers. Oh not to mention perhaps a boost to dull the fact I got a FREAKING D on my exam. I don’t remember the last time I did THAT bad and its BVU! Guess that’s what I get for thinking its all too easy and I don’t need to study. I’m praying for a B in the course but at this rate I’d settle for a C.

I had been taking the ones for my headaches to help the tooth pain (that shit sucks) but they were loading with so much caffeine that I stayed up all night before going to work on Friday. I stayed late at work to TRY to get all my work done. But I couldn’t perhaps I was dragging. I have no idea. But I told them I HAD to leave. It was the ONLY way they would get me in before the weekend and I couldn’t deal with this over the freaking weekend. So I left work. The Dr said that I have been clenching my jaw, cracking my teeth further and bruising them. Hmm stress and Tramadol is my guess. But she gave me this guard to wear to move the pressure off my back teeth and sent me on my way. Jesus I can’t get shit sometimes. Oh and while I was in the dentist office it raining like freaking crazy. I had left my window down. There was a inch or more of water in my door and it took a few days for my driver’s seat to dry out!

I forget the order but, work sucking more, I find out that they took my assigned job away from me for this current week (June 21st) and made me do the one I HATE. Plus cutting my hours down to 3. At this point, in light over other recent events. Not good. Plus Sean and I had a fight and it was pretty damn hurtful but I’m not going to get into it. Oh yeah and leaving Sunday night, I almost fell down the stairs. I tried to catch myself and jammed another toe on the same foot I ran into the door with Monday! It actually still freaking hurts!

I think that brings me to the next week.
Sorry to say didn’t start much better. I didn’t get to see Sean for the whole week. I forget what it was that kept us apart. I think I he thought I should try to stay late at work (didn’t happen) or at least try to spend time with friends since I have missed that so much. Work sucked at usual. I had to go BACK to the dentist because now my front teeth hurt because the pressure was on them. But at least when I was at work I had PROOF I did really need to go to the dentist with this new clear guard I wore. Dentist said I should wear it when I’m under stress and when I sleep. Well I think work counts as stress! Fast forward to Thursday night. Still no Sean, school just sucked ass. So I texted a ex bf who I was still friends with and thought I’d go see him since he was at the bar. I got there around 10pm. And here is where the fun begins and everything gets a little complicated.

June 18, 2009

Sorry there will be so many blogs. I have a lot to write and I haven't blogged in awhile.

Alright I said that I was going to write a blog about my shitty last week. Not that this one turned out to be much better. I really hope things get better soon!

Sunday night I came home because Sean knows I can’t sleep there and I had to work the next day. Well I couldn’t sleep worth a freaking damn. So I got my ass up around for work. I got through work just dragging, I’m tired, not feeling so great and it’s a Monday. I didn’t get everything done and tell my boss that. I said that I would stay but I have classes that night. I think ok, no big deal, WRONG.

I got to class to get one of my assignments back. F. Are you kidding me 9/15? It was for my death and dying class. Questions like who do you want to be there when you die, who do you want told right away, who do you want told later. COME ON. I want who ever wants to be there to be there. My family isn’t retarded they will tell people in the when they are ready to in the order that they believe they should be told. Its not like we haven’t had to deal with death before. My family isn’t retarded. I don’t need to hold their hand and walk them though it, after I die. (Yeah that sounds strange I know). I asked her about it. I told her that I can’t FORM an opinion if I don’t HAVE an opinion. But she just wasn’t going to budge. I was pissed. SO then I sit down to take my exam, most of the questions I have no fucking idea where they are coming from! And I have ACTUALLY been going to class! So I’m about ready to cry right freaking there. Go I get done and go home, at home I run into the god damn door and think I broke my little toe on my right foot. I don’t think it’s actually BROKEN now, but I don’t know what you would call it.

But I ice it, set it, tape it and try to get some sleep which didn’t work AGAIN.

Tuesday, I got into work with a messed up toe. You never think how much you use you little toe when you walk! So I take some pain pills and on a mission to reduce the stress I’ve been feeling at work by getting what I didn’t get done Monday day plus much more. So there I go, well 2pm comes up and the manager starts helping me. I’m like, “Really, I’m fine.” He just says, “Yeah, I want to get you out of here by 2.” Um I had planned on staying late to work and now he’s not going to let me. I LOST it I was so pissed. I have so much to do. Finish truck, run and clean up back stock, run 7 pages of DC paperwork, and clean up my areas in general. Why? Because no one gave a shit while I wasn’t there, no one ever helps me, ever, no else knows what I have to do or how much. I just totally lost it. Having a panic attack and crying and shit. I think the lack of sleep was getting to me. So I calm down enough to call my boss and home and tell him the situation. Apparently he and the manager think I “Stand around talking to much.” FUCK THAT! I don’t more than the fucking manger does that’s for damn fucking sure. I explained my situation and he said I could stay an extra hour, hour and a half. Fine. I win. I end up so fucking tired from the panic attack that I only stay like 45 minutes. I was SO freaking tired after all that, that I didn’t think I could drive so I ended up sleeping in my car for a couple of hours. My HOT car, before heading home. So now I have to head home, do all the cleaning and laundry that I neglected, which took longer than expected. However my dad (step dad- Wayne) and I had like a 2 hour long talk about my grandma, which I’ll get to, my mom, my brother, my real dad and everything else. Then we got some ice cream like I was 10.Which was nice. So by the time I got to Sean’s it was like 11pm. Which is ok, we are pretty much night owls anyway. The issue starts the next morning.

Sean’s Brother has been working on the house and we wake up to banging. We had enough to we leave, pjs and all and get in my car and drive out to the “Farm”. So nice and quiet, although Sean is a blanket hog and the occasional mule making a noise. You would never think it would be that loud.

Now back to my grandma. She’s my mom’s mom and my hero. Not only is she totally bad ass, would wrestle my little brother to the ground every Christmas until her 70s. Loves to go on cross country motorcycle rides. But she also has so much strength, raising my mom and uncles once my grandpa became an alcoholic. Hell she even gets her dental work done with no Novocain. Nuts if you ask me. Dealing with my uncle ALWAYS being sick and worse and worse, until he died this year. A few months after that we learned that she had lymphoma and is was spreading pretty fast. But there she was strong as ever, letting them take bone marrow (which I have heard hurt so so bad and well and the Nulasta they give you to get red blood cells to grow from your bones. Everyone says it’s the worse pain) but she said it’s ok. Her hair was falling out and she got a wig, you would never know it was a wig. But I ask her, “doesn’t bother you that your hair is falling out?” And she just looks at me and says, “No, it’s not like my hair is long like yours hun.” But also she just shows this unconditional love. I don’t think that there could be anything in the WORLD I could do that would make my grandma love me any less. She was always there. No matter what my brother and I was doing, baseball, orchestra, track, football, choir. She was always there. Freezing her ass off at my brother’s games, even after chemo.

My mom told me that a sunflower grew and bloomed right next to Tigger's grave (she didn't plant it). This made me happy. I miss him.

I feel incredibly alone.

J.R. invited me to go to the 730 in house NA meeting, but Randy called and didn't want me to hear it!

I take Haldol and Benadryl now.
They actually help me get a good night's sleep, which is a good thing.

Got a message from and old friend whom I miss very much.
Got enough money to get my license back.
Got an HP Mini 1010NR for 50 bones.
Got some more bagels, and I didn't skimp this time...

Feeling pretty good.

she has no idea how she is. she'll never see it. she'll never know how her words come across to people. i just wish she was as nice as she says she is when she tells her side of the story to every fucking body.

i wish she could understand that i dont think the way she does and that that's ok. that if i like our half black president that it's not something to hold against me. i wish i could tell her things about me without her using it as ammo whenever she gets mad at me. i wish she could understand that people make mistakes and they're not directed towards her in anyway. she takes everything personally. as if what i do is a direct attack on her. she actually said she thinks i hate her because i dont pick up my clothes on the bathroom floor. that i do it just to "hurt her". im terribly sorry, i mean no disrespect, it's not because i hate you. and it's not like she approaches the situation with a hurt look on her face, she comes at it with harsh tones and evil glares.

i try so hard to have every where else in the house looking clean so when she gets home so she can relax. even when she comes home for lunch and leaves everything out for me to pick up. i never say a fucking word because it's her house. i cant say shit about her views because it's her house. i cant have a god damn opinion about our government because it's her fucking house!

and as i sit here bitching away, i realize that she is doing me a favor by even letting me live here again. i know im her daughter, but i also know she disagrees with everything i do. i know she dislikes me even the tiniest bit. she loves me i know for sure, but she dislikes me as a person.
im not a fucking clean fanatic. if my daughter wants to play outside with me, the dishes can wait. if i have an idea about something to paint, laundry will still be there an hour from then. i've put all of that aside and tried my damnedest to make her happy. all ive ever wanted was for her to be proud of me. last christmas i got her a snow globe because i overheard her say how she's always loved them. i went to every fucking store i could think of, price was no object, and found one that i thought she would go nuts over. i got special fucking wrapping paper and a neat box to put it in and was so excited because i thought she'd love it and would be happy. when she opened it she immediately started to criticize it, saying the santa clause inside was kinda dumb looking and how the outside bottom looked fake and how she didnt like the colors. but when my sister got her one for mothers day she showed everybody. she kept saying how sweet of a present it was. i tried brushing it off back at christmas. it was just some stupid gift i picked out. but it fucking hurt.

i knew shit between us wouldnt be great and i cant believe im fucking crying over what i already knew. but i cant fucking help it. im being a baby i suppose. everyone has a parent that fucks them up. it's half of what parents do.

I've been thinking about drugs and alcohol lately, and sure a beer here or there would be nice, and I could use a line a speed now and again, but I don't really miss them nearly as much as I thought I would. Strange.

Here's a second, I am your disease poem that I found online...

I Am Your Disease

You know who I am, You called me your friend
Wishes of misery and heartache I send
I want only to see that your brought to your knees
I'm the devil inside you; I am your disease

I'll invade all your thoughts, I'll take hostage of your soul
I'll become your new master, I'm in total control
I'll maim your emotions, I'll run the whole game
Till your enitre existence is crippled with shame
When you call me I come, sometimes in disguise
Quite often I'll take you, by total surprise
But take you I will, and just as you feared
I'll want only to hurt you, with no mercy spared
If you have your own family, I'll see it destroyed
I'll steal every pleasure in live you've enjoyed
I'll not only hurt you, I'll kill if I please
Im your worst living nightmare; I am your disease

I bring self destruction, but still you can't tell
I'll sweep your through heaven, then drop you in hell
I'll chase you forever, wherever you go
And then when I catch you, you wont even know
I'll sometimes lay silent, just waiting to strike
What's yours becomes mine, because I take what I like
I'll take allyou won and I won't care who sees
I'm your constant companion; I am your disease

If you have any honor, I'll strip it away
You'll lose all your hope and forget how to pray
I'll leave you in darkness, while blindly you stare
I'll reduce you to nothing, and won't even care

So don't take for granted my powers sublime
I'll bend and I'll break you time after time
I'll crumble your world with the greatest of ease
I'm that madman inside you; I am your disease

But today i'm real angry. You want to know why?
I let this whole room of addicts slip by
How did I lose you? Where did we go wrong?
One minute I had you, the next you were gone
You just can't dismiss all the good times we shared
When you were alone wasn't it I who appeared?
When you sold those possession you knew you would need
Wasn't I the first one who stepped in and agreed?
Now look at you bastards, you're all thinking clear
You escaped with your lives when you found your way here
Only fools think they're winners when admitting defeat
It's what you must say when claiming that seat
So go ahead and surrender, if that's what you choose
But I'm not giving up, because I can't stand to loose
So stand in your circles and pray hand in hand
For God to come save you leaving me to be damned
Well be damned higher powers however unique
Be damned all your sayings, be damned your cliches
Be damned every addict who back to me strays
For I know it will happen, I've seen it before
Those who love misery will crawl back for more
So take comfort in knowing I'm waiting right here
But this time around you just better beware
You think that you're stronger or smarter this time
There isn't a mountain or hill you can't climb
Well if that's what your thinking, you ain't learned a thing
I'll still knock you silly if you step back into my ring
But you say you've surrendered, so what can I do?
It's sad in a way. I had big plans for you
Creating your nightmare for me was a dream
I'm sure gonna miss you, we made quite a team
So please don't forget me, I won't forget you
I'll stand by your side watching all that you do
I'll always be faithful so call if you please
I wont let you forget me, because I AM your DISEASE.


Written by "david" in 1998.

I am your friend poem I found online...
DISEASE VS. RECOVERY

I am your friend, the only true companion you have.
I am with you when you are lonely;
I am with you when you are sad.
I am with you when you feel withdrawn and when the world is cruel.
I hide the heckler's words and block the missiles thrown in ignorance and anger.
I shelter you from the storms and I shield you from your fears.
I am your friend. I walk with you daily and live in your thoughts.
I feed off your failures, I revel in your guilt.
I thrive on your shame and dance with your deceit.
I keep you in darkness and take pleasure in your pain.
I delight in your loneliness and wallow in your sins.
I laugh when you flounder and strike when you stumble.
I am your friend.
I relish in your anger and worship in your pride.
I feed off your compulsion and dwell in your isolation.
I am familiar with your weaknesses and abuse your denial.
I treasure your resentment and take comfort in your depression.
I am your friend
My name is "Your Disease."


I am your friend. I hold out my hand and bring you faith.
I award you serenity and self-esteem.
I bestow upon you peace and acceptance.
I wrap you in love and tender the shield of knowledge.
I volunteer humility and shower you with confidence.
I bequeath spiritual growth, emotional advancement and physical revival.
I am your friend; I will lead you out of the darkness into the light.
I will carry you when you are weak and escort you through honesty.
I will provide tools for the battles and binding for your wounds.
I am your friend. I will teach you abstinence and release you from burden.
I will initiate forgiveness and I will foster willingness.
I will nurture ambition and claim back your life.
I am your friend.
My name is "Recovery."

This is the first poem I found on the Internet while I was surfing..........

Hello, I am your disease

I Hate meetings...I Hate higher powers...I Hate anyone who has a program. To all who come in contact with me, I wish you death and I wish you suffering. Allow me to introduce myself, I am the disease of addiction. I Am cunning, baffling, and powerful. That's Me. I have killed millions and I am pleased.
I love to catch you with the element of suprise. I love pretending I am your friend and lover. I have given you comfort, haven't I? Wasn't I there when you were lonely? When you wanted to die, didn't you call on me? I was there, I love to make you hurt. I love to make you cry. Better yet, I Love to make you so numb you can neither hurt nor cry. When you can't feel anything at all. This is true gratification. And all that I ask from you is long term suffering. I've been there for you always.

When things were going right in your life, you invited me. You said you didn't deserve these good things, and I was the only one who would agree with you. Together we were able to destroy all the good things in your life. People don't take me seriously. They take strokes seriously, heart attacks, even diabetes, they take seriously. Fools. Without my help these things would not be possible. I am such a hated disease, and yet I do not come uninvited. You choose to have me. So many have chosen me over reality and peace.

More than you hate me, I hate all of you who have a 12 step program. Your program, Your meeting, Your higher power. All of these things weaken me, and I can't function in the manner I am accustomed to. Now I must lie here quietly. You don't see me but I am growing bigger than ever. When you only exist, I may live. When you live I may only exist. But I am here...

And until we meet again, If we meet again, I wish you death and suffering.

so i finally got the freaking band aid off my nose, and it didn't bleed. now the foam just has to dissolve. it's a happy day here.

After my father passed away four months ago, there was a small secret about my mother I recently learnt that I was the only holder of. My sister and I joked on the phone at how surprised we were at this outcome, I mean it seemed obvious that I was destined to be the first in my family to seek a psychiatrist.

When my sister told me that mum had been referred to a psychiatrist for depression, I told her that twice, before we were born, mum had attempted suicide. I don't know many details, except that it was an attempt to overdose with painkillers and that she was deeply unhappy with married life with my father in the seventies.

It's hard to see this side of mum, it's not something we're familiar with. She has always been very reserved with her feelings and she's been overall, a pretty happy person for most of the time that we've known her. Still, having known this secret, I also knew that this other side existed.

It was only as I grew older that I began to appreciate how amazing my mother is. She is one of the strongest women I've ever known. When my parents came to Australia she spoke barely any English, with no qualifications and family or friends here. Today she runs a business with a turnover of over a million dollars annually and owns two properties and two cars... she is smart, brave, determined and incredibly hard working. She also found time to be a caring and loving mother to me and my sister.

I am who I am because of my mother. My sensitivity, kindness, intelligence, humour, good looks and unerring ability to get along so well with women is the result of my closeness to my mum.

It's often made me wonder about my own relationship with depression and how I need to recognise it in myself. Strangely enough it's not something my father or sister seemed to have. I've learnt that she's now on Lexapro for depression and Diazepam for anxiety/stress/insomnia. The stress of running the business alone and being sued by two former employees is crushing her, I cannot imagine how hard it is for her right now without her husband of almost thirty years.

My mother and I are passionate people in nature. Try as I might, as I grew up I only learnt the futility of trying to force myself to experience life any other way... but I still try at times, like now.

Having experienced the most difficult couple of years in my life, I'm embarrassed to say that I've grown into a fearful and closed person, while I acknowledge that the things I've been through, family and otherwise have necessitated this change of attitude, this is not my natural state and it is not a life that I can keep living.

Accepting a passionate disposition is not easy. One is guaranteed to a live a life that is rich and full, but there are always downsides to feeling everything so sharply. For all the moments of joy, and secure and peaceful happiness, there have equally been as many periods of dejection, sadness, anguish and insecure doubting and paranoia.

I can only hope that at the end of it all, when all is tallied, I will have experienced more happy times than sad ones.

To be entirely frank, there are times when the pain is almost too much. In my fearfulness I have withdrawn from the world of the living, I am a rock and I have become an island. I sit stagnant because progress would involve risk and I have far too much fear to risk anything anymore. I want only to protect what little I have left, for fear I should lose that too. I desire to feel less, possibly even nothing.

I hope my friends realise though that I don't pull away out of rudeness, dislike or lack of appreciation. I love my friends so much, they have brought me so many good things that I often feel so inadequate in what I can give back to them.

But these are not issues that my friends can fix. They cannot heal the scars of bullying and abuse that shadow my every step, they cannot give me purpose or a reason to live. They cannot validate the faith I have lost in some parts of humanity, of people who have hurt me because they needed to feel bigger. They cannot alleviate the aching bitterness I try so desperately to hide with my comedic routines.

What they can, and are doing, means the world to me.

I've grown so used to doing my all to be everything I can be to everyone else, that even when I'm on my knees, I find it so hard to write something like this. I want so much to believe in my own strength, and to be a source of strength for others that I bottle it all up, showing only a select few a glance here and there. The full picture, even sometimes I won't show to myself.

Please don't interpret this as a cry for help, I just felt like writing it. Also, if you work out who I am, please respect my privacy... I hope to write more in time.

You realise that life goes fast, it's hard to make the good things last

dear paul,

i know what i know and i know you're no good for me anymore. you used to inspire, mr. simon, and now what? there's something about you that really reminds me of money.

remember when I saw you at the orpheum when I was ten and they threw that hippie kid out for dancing in the aisle and so i got everyone around me to holler at the security guards and dance in the aisle as well and they didn't throw him out after all? remember how i used to make my mother put on graceland every single day so i could dance around the house to it and then how every time there'd be some show and tell at school i'd bring in the graceland record and then how i even tried to do some book report on it but they wouldn't let me? and how about the snowy christmas eve night in ass fuck ohio and no gas, heading somewhere that didn't exist because your crazy ass told me to and still, freezing my ass off, a car that won't move, won't give me any heat, the goddamn cocksucking radio still worked somehow.

how about that time the cops rolled up behind me sitting with my lights off listening to peace like a river in some projects i've never been before waiting for red to fucking show up and i handed over the little bit of dope i had hoping it would appease them and they let me go and the pig says, listen to that man, pointing to the radio face, and i was dope sick for the rest of the fucking night but how many nights did i think that i could do what i been doing? who was i fooling?

where is your inspiration now that my hands are healed and i'm not on the shit side of the partition? i've got wardrobe and water, appliances and employment and what type of area rug best compliments my living room set?


goddamnit, paul simon. would you please explain? the boy in the bubble, the only living boy, what's wrong with me now, sweet boy, that everything is right?

you don't feel you could love me but i feel you could.

ohhh, wait a second. i got it.

if i tilt my head just so and the wires are twisted in the right direction, when the lights go down and the cops show up and ruin everybody's fun, when the fuel runs out and i'm human again i can hear you sing ta na na na na, ta na na na na, whatever happened to those walking blues? how full are my pockets and

who put these fucking diamonds on my soles?

deleted

After my father passed away four months ago, there was a small secret about my mother I recently learnt that I was the only holder of. My sister and I joked on the phone at how surprised we were at this outcome, I mean it seemed obvious that I was destined to be the first in my family to seek a psychiatrist.

When my sister told me that mum had been referred to a psychiatrist for depression, I told her that twice, before we were born, mum had attempted suicide. I don't know many details, except that it was an attempt to overdose with painkillers and that she was deeply unhappy with married life with my father in the seventies.

It's hard to see this side of mum, it's not something we're familiar with. She has always been very reserved with her feelings and she's been overall, a pretty happy person for most of the time that we've known her. Still, having known this secret, I also knew that this other side existed.

It was only as I grew older that I began to appreciate how amazing my mother is. She is one of the strongest women I've ever known. When my parents came to Australia she spoke barely any English, with no qualifications and family or friends here. Today she runs a business with a turnover of over a million dollars annually and owns two properties and two cars... she is smart, brave, determined and incredibly hard working. She also found time to be a caring and loving mother to me and my sister.

I am who I am because of my mother. My sensitivity, kindness, intelligence, humour, good looks and unerring ability to get along so well with women is the result of my closeness to my mum.

It's often made me wonder about my own relationship with depression and how I need to recognise it in myself. Strangely enough it's not something my father or sister seemed to have. I've learnt that mum's now on Lexapro for depression and Diazepam for anxiety/stress/insomnia. The pressure of running the business alone and being sued by two former employees is crushing her, I cannot imagine how hard it is for her right now without her husband of almost thirty years.

My mother and I are passionate people in nature. Try as I might, as I grew up I only learnt the futility of trying to force myself to experience life any other way... but I still try at times, like now.

Having experienced the most difficult couple of years in my life, I'm embarrassed to say that I've grown into a fearful and closed person, while I acknowledge that the things I've been through, family and otherwise have necessitated this change of attitude, this is not my natural state and it is not a life that I can keep living.

Accepting a passionate disposition is not easy. One is guaranteed to a live a life that is rich and full, but there are always downsides to feeling everything so sharply. For all the moments of joy, and secure and peaceful happiness, there have equally been as many periods of dejection, sadness, anguish and insecure doubting and paranoia.

I can only hope that at the end of it all, I will have experienced more happy times than sad ones.

To be entirely frank, there are times when the pain is almost too much. In my fearfulness I have withdrawn from the world of the living. I sit stagnant because progress would involve risk and I have far too much fear to risk anything any more. I want only to protect what little I have left, for fear I should lose that too. I desire to feel less, possibly even nothing.

I hope my friends realise though that I don't pull away out of rudeness, dislike or lack of appreciation. I love my friends so much, they have brought me so many good things that I often feel so inadequate in what I can give back to them.

But these are not issues that my friends can fix. They cannot heal the scars of bullying and abuse that shadow my every step, they cannot give me purpose or a reason to live. They cannot validate the faith I have lost in some parts of humanity, of people who have hurt me because they needed to feel bigger. They cannot alleviate the aching bitterness I try so desperately to hide with my comedic routines.

What they can, and are doing, means the world to me.

I've grown so used to doing my all to be everything I can be to everyone else, that even when I'm on my knees, I find it so hard to write something like this. I want so much to believe in my own strength, and to be a source of strength for others that I bottle it all up, showing only a select few a glance here and there. The full picture, even sometimes I won't show to myself.

You realise that life goes fast, it's hard to make the good things last