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There really is no cure for the ache of missing. Other things change, some fade, some shift into more comfortable positions, lose their sharp edges. Missing goes on.

Last week I was teaching my youngest students how to approach drawing rabbits. I told them to look for familiar shapes. I gave them a copy of a photo of a rabbit and told them they could take their pencils and go over the shapes on their copies; could they find an oval? Could they find a circle? I told them that by tracing these shapes they were developing muscle memory that would make it easier for them to draw the rabbit on their own paper. I almost started to cry --and this is something that happens a lot at the most unexpected times--when it happens around adults I don't care but around the kids I can't let it happen. It was simply using the phrase "muscle memory" that triggered that raw place of missing you. It is an absence that has a shape. Every day, my mind traces the shifting contours of your absence. What does it learn? Am I getting better at something? Is anything getting easier? Is the cell of a prison any less terrifying new than familiar?

Being in an elementary school is itself a trigger for me. I look around each new class, see how popular your name has become, know that I will have to control my voice every time I say it. I see your struggles repeated, remember how stoically you bore them as a child and how quickly they unraveled as an adolescent. I see the little boy with his overwhelming perfectionism and I want to shout at him to run as far away from this institution as he can. I see the boy for whom boredom is like a powder keg waiting for a spark, the boy whose emotions are too big for his body. I see you over and over and I have no more answers now than I had then. So much for muscle memory. So much for "easier".

Maybe the best thing a teacher can offer is that nothing is easy. Least of all loving.

so, about a week and a half ago I got the GOOD NEWS after getting TERRIBLE NEWS!

Terrible news - my Suboxone Dr. told me he spoke to my Neurologist and said I had 5 years to live; I have a brain tumor. If you followed my posts, read my blogs, etc, you'd know all this. however, I was never given a life expectancy life that; which I surly SHOULD/WOULD have heard if it was that early. so for a week I went on a semi-bender thinking it MAY have been true. but the time I spoke w/ my actual Dr. and NOT my Suboxone Dr., it turns out there were 2 different stories; I have yet to hear back from my Suboxone Dr. since, so lets see how it all plays out.

Good news - I went in front of the judge and told her I can no longer afford to pay the monthly payment of $155 as well as other cash owed w/ my 6 month left on probation. I gave her the full run down including my 5 years to live and they threw it all out the window; thats right, they threw it all out the window. THANK GOD, right? I am thankful for something like that but who knows w/ my luck. but right now I am thankful and was happy as can be.

however, I am not sure if it is the depression from the Chemotherapy, or the changes I have made in life, or what, but I went from having a "good" 6-7 months of sobriety (never fully clean but Suboxone and only slipped 4-5 times within that period which is a fucking miracle for me). well, since I got home from my last Venice Beach vacation which was around Feb 10-15th or so, I have been using almost daily again. what I do know is over the last 6 days I have been shooting a G of day of fent like old times; its kinda sad but its what I always loved and what I always did. sad, right?

I look back at posts I made and I was happy as fuck for going 2 weeks, 3 weeks, etc. I was just happy to finally be feeling MYSELF and not relying on the drug, just waiting for the drug man to make the drop, or base your life around his time, etc. I thought this had all been given up. I was on 16MG Suboxone to start but my dick never worked; so I dropped to 8MG and nothing changed aside from my dick WORKING NOW; so its not the dosage I can tell you that much; its all about the mind itself; that is what changed most.

yes, BBT, you have a Stage 3 Malignant Brain Tumor - LIVE WITH IT, man! you have known for 4 years and you look absolutely fine; anytime I tell someone they are amazed; also, my Dr. tell me I have a 25-30yr life expectancy unless things were to change, so be happy with what you have. it seems anytime I have to go through the chemotherapy I get down and out and use more; last time I did chemo I OD"d and it held off my chemo for a month; they recently tried to blame that as a reason WHY it did not work "fully" the last time, or as to why I did not get "best results". FUCK THAT! these people crack me up! I was on a different type of chemo then; just 5 pills a month; now its run in a 6 months cycle having to do both with pills and needles; 2 things I love but that is outside of chemo.

I need to MAN THE FUCK UP and GET WITH IT! I just hate when I do the chemo and actually feel a bit sick; makes me wonder if I am just depressed or if I am actually feeling like shit because of the chemo, ya know? it seriously could be ether or; any/everyone knows that. its just so hard to figure out, esp. at this point which is in the middle of it all.

I truly want/need to stop; I am NOT working full time and do NOT have the cash I once did, so I am unable to even feed myself the drugs my body knows; so i cannot even try to do what I once did. I NEED TO STOP; bottom line!

OK, I need to stop bitching as well. I hate reading what I just wrote because its true and hurts at this point, eh!

havent failed a Suboxone drug test in close to a year now; not because I havent used but because I've been able to control my using and I've used much less than I have in years and years. I went close to 9 months "clean" time with a few slips a month. I say a few slips a month because to me that is clean after being a junkie who used daily for years and years.

I had a good during those 9 months; had a great GF, spent the money on going on vaca's with her, doing great things, etc. again, I may have used once or twice a month but thats nothing compared to being the every day user I once was. so all seemed too good to be true before finding out I have to go through a chemotherapy treatment much sooner than expected due to the tumor growing back a bit faster than expected. so I used that as an excuse to break up w/ the GF, start to slip up more and more, and go through hell as I start my 2nd round of chemo and its a much more harsh round of chemo than what I did my first time. this is for those w/ stage 3 rather than stage 2, and its knocking me on my ass. so rather than take all serious and make sure my health is best it possibly can be.. what am I doing instead? well, I broke up w/ the girl who was by my side, knew all my stories, and would have helped anyway she possibly could have. I went back to shooting dope almost daily (only reason I dont is because I dont have the money I once did because I do not work full time because of the chemo) and just watching my life sink infront of me; some of it due to the chemo because it completely drains me; I am just burnt out 24/7 it feels. I am not sure if its depression or the chemo at this point.

I always try to stay positive w/ this chemo/brain tumor shit; I dont want my family to see its getting to me and I am thinking negative, because I am not. but part of the reason I am not is because I am using drugs HARD again; shooting through a gram of fent within 4 hours and taking a xanny bar with it just to keep "chill" for the night. after all, its something to do on a Monday night, right? you act like there are better things to do. I dont know, man. I am waiting and hoping my SSI comes in soon so I do not have to worry about money so much; working is a killer for me, esp. since its absestos work I do and its actual manual labor considering the condition I am in right now but I must continue to work till the SSI/disability come through for the time being. I will be on this chemo for the next 6 months and I am fucking DRAINED already and its only the 4th week into the first cycle; down 6lbs already. whats funny is my SUBOXONE DR. told me I should try and eat like SHIT so keep my weight; however, my ACTUAL DR. told me to eat healthy because the food plays a cause in all of this. because I have to talk to my Suboxone Dr. for obvious reasons, its funny to hear him talk about the brain tumor/chemo vs. my actual Dr. who I go through this with; it goes to show how OFF this dude is but yet somehow thinks he knows a thing or two. you gotta realize, just because both are Dr's does NOT mean they know the same thing; its like being in the Union and one is an Electrician and the other does Asbestos; 2 Union jobs and we both have our cards but they are far from being the same and they may know a thing or two but stick w/ the Dr. who actually knows it ALL, not just a thing or two.

so I used tonight; shot a G in 4 hours. it was pure white; Fent as usual. however, I took a Suboxone around 9AM today and started to shooting tonight around 8PM: I still get "off" even w/ such a small wait time; ill even take Suboxone tomorrow morning at 9AM and be fine. Suboxone has never bothered me when it comes to timing. I never had problems taking too early, too late, etc. the other day I could only afford a half G and blew through that QUICK; so lets say I finished around 4PM; by 7PM I started to feel "sick" but I was thinking actual sickness, like a temperature, shakes, etc. so I took an Advil and my other pills I take for chemo but nothing changed. finally I started to think maybe early WD; so I took a full 8MG Suboxone and within 20 minutes I was fine. I was shocked the WD came on so soon and was able to take the Suboxone so soon w/ no problems.. but like I said, I never had no problems and always have Suboxone in my system so never have a problem putting more and more back into my system.

I dont know, but I've been truly BEAT THE FUCK UP LATELY; I just cant get off the couch. no motivation to do a damn thing. I am 153lbs (was 170 2 months ago) and I feel like I weigh 5000lbs. I finally shaved tonight (while dope'd up, of course) for the first time in weeks. I have been barely showering, cleaning house, taking care of myself and other things in life because I am in a stage of depression I guess. chemo is kicking my ass and even w/ me turning to drugs its only "helping" for a few hours after my last shot before going back to that miserable stage.

I dont know, its hard to find another junkie w/ a stage 2/3 brain tumor to relate to, so I dont know if its just me or its just part of the disease/treatment all together. but I can tell you this, I went to Venice Beach first week in Feb. and felt GREAT, even coming back. started the chemo about a week and a half later and have been fucking drained SINCE! fucking DRAINED GUYS, you have no idea. I have nothing in me. my appetite is OK right now because my 4th week is me recovering from the early part of the cycle (they are 6wk cycles for 6 months) but overall I still am just drained, man. hard time getting up, hard time staying out, hard time doing all.

who knows, but I am sure ill be OK. I just need to smarten up w/ this dope and get myself back on track.

So today makes 3 weeks off methadone and the whole process has been kinda... easy. Its probably because the jump dose was 2mg/day and I had been at that dose for 10 days before I decided "fuck this whats the point" and got out.

This week finds me sleeping a bit better. The first 2 weeks i spent getting up every 2-3 hours a night so about 3 times a night. I would smoke a dab or a joint each time it happened so I was burning through literally 2 times the weed a week because i was smoking when id otherwise be asleep.

I also felt a complete lack of desire to work even though my job is largely this, this right here on bluelight, because the business is very slow and on its last leg. Theres no one working here anymore so I can come in after smoking a joint around the block and say "fuck everyone i dont give a fuck!" sit down and theres actually no one to tell me not to do that sometimes. As in the only manager is on the phone so "no one hears it" LOL its fucking great. Best decision ever was when i was looking at a job for 16/h to do call center work (i do customer service phones) and when i was planning my summer i realized "wait i have been a slave to heroin for 4 years, i was in a 6 year relationship that ended i am NOT going to be a slave tethered to a desk for the first summer since college i can do whatever the fuck i want! So yeah it was a massive insurance provider and it would have been good benefits but you know what FUCK THAT I have 6 months of fun.

But I have had some amazing trips lately and i think this summer i will repeat what i did in 2008, take what should be an unhealthy amount of L. There was once a time I was doing a 10 strip every week and I wanna be doing that again. Maybe not to the excess i did then exactly but close. I want to be like how i was before i got out of college, take all the psychedelics at inappropriate times and pull it off. This whole thing was reinvigorated by going to see Big Gigantic in NYC and remember just how much i love tripping in chaotic and confusing scenarios that involve a lot of critical thinking. Like its never an extreme enough environment so I am going to go with that feeling and do it every chance my work schedule allows me to, provided there is something to do. I use to just take L to take L but now i need a show or something to go do.

I have also been doing Ketamine once a week. And my ex g/f asked if i was worried it would get out of hand, I am not. 2 weeks ago, again in the city before Big G, I was candy flipping on 5 hits and 200mg. Security was tight and me being an idiot put the k in a vial so i could do it off the cap at the show, yeah well there was no way that vial was getting past these people they were almost looking to kick people out it seemed. I thought i stashed it good but it fell into the street i guess, I noticed and was like "dude fuck that gram if they said "you need to grind 2 into the street to get in i would have"

But I really love my new life in a sense. The bills i have are a lot but i almost feel at anytime if i wanted i can go "fuck you student loans" as i did for YEARS. They should be thankful i am paying a lot to try to clear that up. I love the fact my ex and i are still friends, all i wanted was her happiness and shes a different person now that we arent heroin addicts. My younger brother the crackhead heroin addict who was draining my family (i had a full time job my parents never paid for (more then a handful of times my dope or crack) is now out of prison and a literal body builder with a job. The dude can curl like 100lb on a single arm... ive seen it and its ridiculous to think he went from chubby kid, to deathly skinny crack head to like 190 all muscle.

You know sometimes I get teary eyed thinking these stories dont come in 3s. Thinking how can my hopelessly suicidal heroin addicted g/f quit methadone before me, get the strength to leave me to develop herself and turn into the person i always knew was there. And my younger brother go to prison get caught smoking weed in prison come out and respect his body and parole enough to only do what he can get away with. His best friend, also a junkie prior, got clean and is now the one getting us back into the grateful dead / raving scene. I always knew i would get clean so thats not surprising to me everyone elses story always seems so much more unlikely. I just want everyone to know there is hope. Sometimes I dont understand how I got so lucky...

My methadone counselor thinks I have bi polar disorder. I feel like I am being diagnosed with some new horrible mental illness all the time now. First it was depression then came Generalized anxiety disorder then PTSD now bi polar. I am starting to think that I liked my way of self medicating more then I like the FDA approved way of medicating. Either way I am starting to lose hope that I am ever going to be a functioning member of society with a job credit card apartment girlfriend... The scary part is I don't really think I care. Or maybe that's the Kolonopin talking. Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I was dead.

I managed to eat 48 300mg gabapentin pills in 3 days! In total I have eaten 88 of them in 8 days. Now I only have 12 left and I am not looking forward to the withdrawals. I think I am going to call and say they got stolen out of my car . Try to use the fact that people say they are not abusable to my advantage. My only qualm is that this same doctor writes me a small kolopin script that keeps me out of trouble at the methadone clinic and I don't want to burn that bridge....

This has been one of the worst weeks in recent memory. I have been driving around with my seatbelt off praying someone crashes into me and I die. This week has destroyed any lingering denial that I have a serious mental illness. I don't even remember the last time I showered it has too have been at least a week. The only time I leave the house is to go to the clinic, I drive there and back everyday. I think i am going to start smoking weed again as it tends to balance me out a little better. At least it makes me somewhat happy.

So I've been a BLer for a while now, and thought I'd tell my story on my struggle, hoping to help others aswell as a bit of self therapy, I will keep adding as my journey goes on.

Codeine, the weakest opiate there is available on prescription, yet equally as addicting and hard to come off as heroin. I wish I'd of know this earlier, three years earlier would of been perfect.

ive got a bad hip, had it from birth causes me a lot of pain on movement so I went to my GP and was prescribed cocodamol 30/500 for pain. 100 tablets no questions asked, I'd never took them before, only opiates I'd ever had was morphine after three c-sections, I hated taking anything as little as a paracetamol unless I really needed it. So anyway, that evening I took two tablets and after half an hour was in my own little bubble, felt warmth, happy, chatty and what can only be described as being stoned. I continued to take as directed up to 8 a day to help my pain, this went on for a few months.

now a friend of mine got hold of a steady supply of codeine prosphate, cheap too, so I was ordering them from her by the 100s, tolerance built and soon it would take 10 tablets to get the feeling that two used to give me, this also went on for some time, I also tried dhc and morphine but neither felt as good to me as the pure codeine did. Inevitably my supply ran out, so off I went back the Drs and asked for codeine prosphate instead of cocodamol, I was given them, no questions asked, and I'd had about a six month break from my scripts as I'd found a supply, so they didn't even have a clue I was addicted.
again this went on for around another year, my moods were so up and down from worrying about running out, scripts never lasted and I was buying otc solpadine max and neurofen plus, not doing any extraction to remove the paracetamol, just taking them by the box load, how I'm not dead I'll never know.

March last year I discovered another source online, I started buying from two different online pharmacies aswell as obtaining my regular scripts off my dr, it was spiralling out of control aswell as emptying my bank account. But it still wasn't enough, I was going through 100 tablets in just over two days, I knew it was wrong but the withdrawal was just hell on earth and I was terrified.

so three weeks ago I took myself to a rehabilitation centre, it was awful, I'm a young girl with three beautiful children, I'm well dressed, in good hygiene, I work and I hate not being in control, so as you can imagine I broke down. They were nice but firm with me, and told me if I didn't stop I'd die, they also told me some hard facts that the amount of opiates I took, equalled to a large bag of heroin each day, how shocking!!

i didn't like the idea of replacement prescribing, which is buprenophine or methadone so I asked for other options, I was given lofexidine to try as its non addictive, on day two I had a severe allergic reaction to it and my tongue swelled up, just my luck! So my mum took me back and I started on 4mg of buprenophine, increasing to 8mg the next day and I've stabilised on 10mg.

Im amazed at how well they work, just two little tablets a day that you put under your tongue, and you get relief for atleast 24 hrs, I have to go to the pharmacy each morning and take it in front of them, and I get a supply of a weekend to take home, I find it really embarrassing and upsetting but I suppose it's a small price to pay, after all I'm getting my life back, I've given five negative drug tests now, I'm on day 19 today, it's still really hard emotionally, no one ever told me the hardest part of addiction was the part where you're brain needs to be re taught not to take tablets. I've been promised that from next week I can start taking the drug home so I only have to go twice a week instead of five, so that's giving me a little hope.

ive been asked by the rehab dr if I can tell my story to the public, in magazines and the media, as he runs a charity for people addicted to just painkillers, and he would like me to be their spokeswoman when I'm fully clean, which is great but I'm not sure I want the world to know I'm an ex addict.

My friends and family have been so supportive through the past three weeks, I can't thank them enough, my partner has been amazing, it can't be easy being with someone who's an addict, and I know I never used street drugs or needles but I still share the same downfalls as everyone else who's addicted to a substance. The past week has been my hardest yet, I'd give my right tit to get one more codeine hit, but I know I can't and I'll have to move onto a more healthier, less harming addiction (gym, swimming etc)

so so that's my story so far, I'm sure I'll have more to update as I go on my journey, just want to say if anyone who's reading this is addicted to painkillers, there's always a way out, if I can do it then so can you, I don't have an ounce of willpower but I've come this far, imagine waking up of a morning and not be in withdrawal, I'd forgot what it feels like, but now I do and it feels great.

Good luck everyone xoxox

This thing has been driving me nuts for weeks, why do I bleed? For all you SINNERS!!!!!

For all doubters, this is done mostly from my blessed crown, references were only used for the drapery, and the skeleton part, I got one of those model skeletons and what I do is throw a towel over it, pose the fucker in whatever stance I want it to be, then I just made up Hel (Norse goddess of the underworld, daughter of Loki) accompanied by Jormungund and Fenrir her Jotun beast siblings, up from the torso on to the head, weird how I just made up that face and it looks a lot like someone, that isn't myself.

Jormungund, the sea serpent came straight out of the dome, as did the background, there's a lot of work that needs to be done on it but quite frankly I'm sick of working on it right now, posted it in second opinions too 'cause I need some help, certain things need to be pushed back, pushed forward, other things need to be sharpened whereas other parts blurred.

I am going to Turkey in about two weeks. No one wants me to go. I'm going with my 86 year mom and she certainly wants to go but my family seems to think that we are heading to Syria rather than Turkey. I think of all the foreigners that through their understandable perception of my country (with a mass shooting per week on average it seems) imagine that they would be in danger of being shot the minute they walk out of the airport and how unrealistic that feels to me. While I don't dispute the scope of the problem, they forget the scope of the country and, if anything, I usually go around feeling guilty over my outrageously comfortable life. I feel safe where I live and safe most places that I go. I'm wary when I have to be, I travel smart and look people in the eye and I smile or greet people as I pass. My husband even went so far as to tell me,"You are a mother and you have a responsibility not to put yourself in dangerous situations. " My response: "I should stop driving?!? Since the trip is now happening most of my family and friends are now just avoiding the subject. They are sure we are going to die in a suicide bombing.

I got this tendency not to be afraid from my mom, who is herself fearless. I am not fearless, I just refuse to be afraid enough that it stops me from exploring the world. We used to live in inner city Detroit, right behind Wayne State in Cass Corridor. My mom was single, working her way through university as a temp. We had to have millions of locks on the doors, we got robbed both in and out of our apartment but my mom made it all seem like an annoying little blip that could be put in perspective--nothing to hang onto and color your perceptions with. I've seen her jump between two huge guys about to get in a fistfight over a deal and use her white lady mom-voice on them and shock them into some manners. They were out in front of our door and she burst out and broke up their drama saying, "If you two want to act like a couple of two year olds, take it outside. This is a home and we don't need to hear this kind of yelling in here. As I remember it, they apologized and went outside.

But I am afraid lately. I'm afraid all throughout my body, just under the skin. It's unnerving to feel it so physically. I am afraid that the world is moving into a dark, dark period. I'm watching spring come and I find myself feeling afraid for the birds, afraid for the children that walk by my house coming home from school. What if, like in so many countries all over the world, hatred takes over and suddenly there can be no childhood? My friend just killed himself or accidentally drank himself to death after saying every day for years that he wanted to kill himself. He was afraid in a different way than I am. He was afraid of his own life. That is not one of my fears. What is my fear? I'm afraid deep down that everything is starting to fray. I don't want this for my surviving son, for anyone's son or daughter. I'm not afraid of Isis, I'm afraid of what makes Isis. I'm not afraid of some crazed american with a machine gun, I'm afraid of what made him crazy. I'm afraid that it is all too big.

I frequently give out advice to go heal in nature to people that are afraid or in despair. Get away from the human world for a while. Remember that the world holds you like a mother holds you. Maybe I need to go to the forest instead of Turkey.

I'm so fucking tired of this god damned struggle, it's not just the drugs, it's a conflict of philosophy and family. It's what I believe is right and wrong, how I want to live my life, and how I am destined to hurt people no matter what I do. I'd like to crawl under my bed and turn blue, I wish the world would end and save me from choosing one form of slavery over the other.

I hate listening to the television, I hate news reporters, I hate politicians, I hate the sound of my own pretentious voice. I don't want any part of it. I don't want a computer or a phone, or actually I'd really love a god damned phone right about.

I'd like to go to a bar right now and get hammered. I usually hate drinking, but I'd love to get drunk right now.

I want an out. I should have been born in the 1500's.

Tomorrow I'll be ashamed of this post.

What the fuck am I doing.

I hope the Astro Zombies come and exterminate the whole god damned lot of us tonight. Good Grief.

If there is a God kill me in my sleep cause I don't have the courage or guts to do it otherwise, and yeah I'm a selfish motherfucker.

My legs are so fucking sore man.

I can't get this painting right, it pisses me off. And I'm out of Ciggarettes.

went before the judge today and based on health conditions, they waived my final 6 months of probation for my 2nd DUI and waived fees which were over $1k. yes, it was my 2nd DUI and first occurred in 2012 but both were not what they seem and both were a fucking COST AND A HALF! not to mention the year and a half I went without a license/car and went crazy!

crazy to say it but I feel so alive and free to finally be OFF EVERYTHING! ever since getting arrested in 2004 w/ Oxy's the court has been involved in my life each step of the way all the way to today; yes, I had a few years off between DUI's but other than that I was a full time court guy; so I know there are others out there on this board who went through/going through the same thing, so just imagine how happy I am to say I AM DONE!

yes, it was a health issue which is must take care of but I am still happy to be done. not only that, but i am confident that I will NEVER (well, lets hope) be involved in the court system again. my life has changed SO VERY MUCH over the past 3 years and w/ the battle of addiction; I am finally on top, doing the right things, not hanging with the wrong people/places, etc. I am just confident that I am FINALLY DONE! no more checking in, filling out reports, showing prof of ID, etc. no more having to worry about violations, having to pay monthly, etc. and this was all probation. never mind back in the day when I actually had to do time and was released early to a pain in the ass type release where checking in became far too much and I should have just wrapped my bid.

either way, I just wanted to write SOMETHING so I had something to go by when looking back.

I AM DONE w/ COURT! THANK YOU, GOD!

The masks we wear; the crosses we bear, the choices we didn't know were ours to make and those we didn't realize weren't.

How special time is. Sometimes a moment stretches on for a year, and sometimes a year compresses behind our backs and by the time we look back the only thing there is the memory of a moment.

I can't imagine what would happen if man mastered gravity. If you were born ahead of your time maybe you could fly into a gravity well for what would seem like a couple minutes but by the time you return a thousand earth-years might have passed. But maybe what's important about the world won't change in a thousand years.

Some authorities have claimed that you could take a slave from ancient Egypt or even some hunter-gatherer from the Neolithic and they would have comparable intellect to a modern-day human. If we fundamentally remain the same for thousands of years then it makes our general obsession with recency seem kind of silly.

What stands out about not just the Neolithic peoples but all peoples throughout history is the things they left behind that were most interesting to look at and actually think about was their art. Now that is some timeless stuff right there. What does a Sumerian contract for a shipment of grains tell me about the Sumerians? Not half as much as staring at a little clay bar with their whole origin mythology stamped into it. That's what Epic of Gilgamesh was about, wasn't it--the struggle to reconcile the primal desires of man with his need to be civilized?

Maybe on a long enough timeline, archaeologists will look back on us here now and lump us in with the Sumerians--just another bunch of incompleted souls trying to forget about death while learning how to live.

Well, i'm older, colder, but not fatter.

Part of the agreement that I made with my mom was that I was going to get into an outpatient program, which I'm not too thrilled about. I still don't know how I feel about being clean-wait a minute, that's a lie, I know exactly how I feel about it, I don't like it, never have, probably never will-It's guilt, and what has guilt ever done for anyone but make them feel more guilty?

Anyway, I'm not going to start whining like I'm 21 again, if I stay clean, I'll stay clean, if I start shooting dope or crystal again, fuck it I can deal with that too, I can live like an animal and be fine with that. I can also shut off my conscience as long as I'm on enough dope. Maybe I'll stay clean, maybe I'll be a weekend warrior for a time, maybe I'll OD, it's in God's hands now, and I don't believe in any God.

THE CLICHE JUNKY SHIT ENDS HERE
maybe...

That being said, I did have a nice 'moment' if you will. I signed up for this open studio at this place called the 'McConnell' art center here in good ol' Worthington, Ohio. Now there was no model or anything so I just drew some easels and lighting equipment to warm my hand up, and after popping my two kpins that I get rationed out each day, I went outside in the rain and drew a tree. And man, for some reason that really made my fucking day, I barely had cover from the drizzle, but it was a really 'cathartic' experience if you will. I mean art is the one thing that makes me feel like a worthwhile human being, without it I'd probably kill myself, I just love the fucking experience, it's really quite a trip to understand something so well from a visual perspective (as that is what drawing is really about-seeing). I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I was drawing this tree and I just felt like my dick was getting bigger and bigger (symbolism people, I wasn't really getting an erection), at first I was sitting down, and then I stood up and started drawing while I was swaying around like some fucking weird string bean in the wind and I was fucking cross hatching that mother into reality. And for a moment (and this has happened to me before), I felt this power course through my veins, like I was mainlining the divine.

And then I crashed..

I wonder sometimes if love is being able to share the darkest part or weakest part of yourself with someone else and being accepted for it, or if instead, it's supposed to be showing the darkest side of yourself and having your unfortunate partner 'bless' you with their 'healing' light, and complete you so to speak. I have no physical desire to fuck, only a psychological one because I have a very low confidence. I will not fuck anything though, I have proved this time and time again, and I also hate porn, it makes me really depressed. I tried to watch some the other day since you were all interested, and I sat there trying to beat a limp dick until I just said fuck it, not literally, and played some guitar instead. Porn makes me think of all the reasons I'm a heroin addict and why I hate this country, and yet, when I fuck, I want to smack my dick against girls cheeks like they do in porn, isn't that a gas?

My mom was annoying me today when I was in the car with her, as she often does. She's a terrible driver but she was driving me to get my pack of cigarettes so how could I complain, but she wasn't paying attention and nearly drove straight into the back of this van in front of us. I said something to the effect of 'you really got to pay better attention", not really in a nasty tone but it wasn't a nice one. She was kind of startled by the whole thing and then ended up going down a wrong street, and she said something in this kind of quiet tone like "I really don't know what I'm doing"- and I had this connection man, where I stopped being annoyed with her and I suddenly felt for her with all of my heart, whatever is left of it, and I told her it was alright, and I said it really nice and when I got out of the car I told her I loved her, I loved her for saying that because though I think she meant that she just didn't know her way around the neighborhood, part of her really meant that she didn't know what the fuck she was doing and she was embarrassed about that. And I got sympathy for those who can admit embarrassment, it's not easy, its actually quite fucking brave, half my life I've been embarrassed of myself and pretended not to be. And really who does know what the fuck they're doing, I don't, sometimes I do but not really in a deep sense. I'm driven by greed and lust, but sometimes I'll put that on the back burner to help someone out. I guess I'm kind of like Jesus you could say.

I got nothing to do but bide my time, get high on propylhexadrine now and then, draw/paint, take subs, shoot the shit with myself, do crunches cause I'm vein, listen to metal, listen to punk, play guitar, feel bad for myself, think Mathew McConneghie (however the fuck you spell his name) is a beautiful man in True Detective, whine to myself, smoke cowboy killers, put myself to sleep with remeron, not meet people, pretend I'm hard, hate the world, think of Oakland, think of New York, look out my window, imagine a hundred different ways I could fuck this girl that works at this dumb sandwich shop, debate the ethical dilemma of New Yorks Cannibal cop with people who aren't interested, spout my bullshit on BL, spread my pretty feathers, wish I was smarter, think I am smarter, almost talk to my ex/running partner and then remember she don't want nothing to do with me, consider buying RC's to get high, plot ways in which I could do this, lose interest, go to sleep, wake up, take my subs, wonder why I'm tapering, wonder why I'm still writing this, wish I was someone else and then if i was someone else would I want to fuck myself? The age old question.

First off I wanted to thank Herbavore and Mel for their kind comments on my last blog entry.

So a few weeks back I found out my father has stage four lung cancer. I found this out while charging my phone in a parking lot in order to score some more smack. My now (ex) girlfriend saw the text and told me to call my mom. I told her we (my ex and I) would leave Oakland to come and help out with my dad if we got on subs or methadone and stayed clean. My mom said yes.

Then I went to the hospital a few days later after going septic, stayed for two days and left.

Then I bought 15x2mg clonazepam which I consumed over the course of 2 days (as did my ex) and shot a bunch more smack and meth. Being an idiot I had not picked up my inhalers so I once again got asthma and was pretty much stuck in my tent for three days while my ex hustled up money to get us well. What I didn't know was that she was also cheating on me.

On the third day I left the tent after some security gaurd ran into our camp waving a gun at people accusing us junkies of steeling his car hubs (no one had), I could barely walk but my tent was trashed with so much paraphenelia that I was afraid the dude might call the cops and I'd be arrested even though in Oakland its basically legal to shoot dope in public (I've had a highway patrol officer give me back a dime of meth and a point of junk before, no joke). I walked down 6 blocks to where my ex was spanging which took me about 1 hour due to my failing lungs. She had just made enough to cop and told me to wait at the starbucks where it was warm and shed bring me the shot. I waited 30 mins and there was no sign of her, another hour went by and by this point I was in a rage. I ran into my friend who told me my girl had given him this syringe filled with dope to bring to me, which was odd and made me suspicious, but I went into a bathroom and shot it up into my groin and then began the laborous journey to the tent where my friend and our drug dealer were staying, where my supposed girlfriend was supposed to be.

When I got there the dope dealer (a fucking shit dealer BTW-I hope you fucking die mother fucker and if I see you...well I just hope you go to fucking Santa Rita for a long god damn time) and my girlfriend were all cozying up together and shooting speed balls. I had had suspicions and we'd been fighting over these suspicions for a long time, but the sight along with my weak enflamed lungs took all the fight out of me and I just stared at them. In fact I ended up having to sleep in the same tent as them because I didn't have the strength to make it back to my tent. I'd wake up to see this dude fucking pawing at my gf, but being a weak bitch I just watched, well actually I litterally puked. Then in the morning I called myself an ambulance because my wheezing was so bad. After that I never saw my girlfriend again.

I called up my mom and told her I'd be coming alone. I was supposed to leave in four days but due to some issues with my ID, it ended up that my mom would come and get me 1 1/2 weeks later. So I just shot more and more dope. Every day I swear to god I was blessed though, as an unnatractive Junkied out dude I really don't make much money spanging myself, back when my girlfriend and I were together whatever I made was just a fraction of what she would. But during those 9 or 10 days I got two $90 kick downs, and in addition at least 1 $20 kick down each day, and was able to use more dope than I did when my ex and I were pooling our money together.

My friends were really there for me. I didn't even say good bye to any of them which I'm ashamed of. I'm also extremely depressed that my ex wouldn't even come to talk to me in person about why she did what she did, she just texted me ocasionally and accused me of having a 'sick hangup over what others think of me'-this was based on the fact that I had gotten angry at her the last time she cheated on me because it was during a time when one of my oldest friends came out to California to try and help me and I felt humiliated that he had to see my girlfriend obviously screwing around with another dude.

I really don't want to go into it anymore-in case she reads this. And if she does, I want to say that I'm sorry for whatever it was I didn't bring to the table. I really am. And I'm such a lame that I still want to be with you and I feel so fucked up that I got replaced by some fucking retard who's even uglier and dumber than I am. I mean, four plus years together...You'd think that would mean something.

And I miss my friends, CHuck, Lil' Joe, Lil Chris, Shay, Kiro, John John, Nick the rinse prince, Terry, Ash I really really love you all, and now that I'm in a home I feel guilty and I feel fucking scared because I don't want any of you to fucking die. We all got into it at points because were all corrupt dope fiends regardless of how noble we claim to be but from the bottom of my heart I love you all so goddamned much because you all understood me and I understood you and we were all so hated by everyone. I'm so fucking scared someones going to die. I'm scared because my dad is going to die.

I'm scared because I gotta be clean to a degree when all I want to due is see that red flag.

Hopefully I'll have some artwork to post up here soon, drawing is the only thing that gives me hope. I want to be a tattoo artist because it's the only way I can imagine having sex with hot girls again.

I love you all,
Znegative
from hell,
COlumbus, Ohio

PS.always kick down the homeless cash.

ugh, my bones ache.
after three weeks of stabilizing at 8mgs of suboxone a day and feeling nothing but 'normal', and with my birthday just days ahead (well it's tomorrow) I decided two days ahead that I would drastically reduce my dose so that tomorrow, monday the 7th, I might achieve some type of 'buzz' off bupe, which IS possible, but takes a lot of work and effort. I used to easily be able to go 48-56 hours without subs (granted back then, years ago I was also on 16mg), and then take my regular dose and be nodding all day. Nowadays though I just don't have the power to skip days, it's so fucking bland around here. I look out my window and am greeted by 1 story houses and paved driveways as far as the eye can see. The midwest I fear is not my scene, granted things would be better if I had a car, or a bicycle, but I don't.

So what I did was I waited until I was just bored to death on saturday and took 2mg of suboxone, and then today waited till I was bored to death to take .5mg of suboxone, then about 7 hours later I started feeling some soreness, runny nose (I've been on subs for a little less than three weeks), mild withdrawal symptoms etc. Took another .5mg though I had company over so I basically just swished it around in my mouth for a minute and probably absorbed it as if I had just swallowed it. I felt fuck all from both of these doses and regretted taking any sub at all today.

The plan is to take 2mg tomorrow or maybe four to see if I can get a little glow out of it, but when I'm in these situations I start to get neurotic over my dosing, it's like I get obsessed with forcing myself to suffer through withdrawals with the goal of being able to get high, but then I'm scared to take a higher dose cause I think it won't work, and the truth is it probably won't (or if it does give me a slight lift, I then regret not waiting a few more days of micro-dosing). I haven't gotten proper euphoria off of opiates for a long time. The whole thing is so fucking dumb though and this is what I hate about suboxone maintenance or any maintenance at all that isn't heroin maintenance lol. And shit, even heroin doesn't get me high like it used to, it hasn't in years, plus I'm basically trapped inside a house.

Anyway, I also am going to start going to an outpatient program this week, sadly enough this will probably result in my downfall. I've been watching season one of True Detective, which is one of the most well written and beautiful television shows that I've ever seen. Theres a part where they're interviewing Detective Cohle (Mathew McConneghie) and he's talking about his alcoholism and he says something like "I've come to accept what I am, and there's a certain peace in that", which was incredibly powerful to me because that's exactly how I feel and have felt for so fucking long. I'm a heroin addict. I'm also many other things I suppose you can say, but sometimes surrendering to ones addiction is so alleviating, you don't have to live in denial, you don't have to struggle with your cravings, with your purpose, you just succumb to it like they tell you to succumb to God in the twelve step programs, but I've never known a God other than smack unfortunately.

I wish I had some crystal so bad, I can make beautiful things on crystal (not talking about cum, I gave up porn years ago), I can also have extreme paranoid delusions, but never mind all that, I just want some shard, tina, tweak, Goddess of Amphetamine-give me an immaculate birthday high I beg of you!

So I managed to get off methadone on Wednesday and figured everything has lined up for me to take 500mg of mescaline HCl that i had extracted from a live specimen of San Pedro... It was actually several live specimens and my theoretical yield would have been like 10X where i put the amount i got but obviously my controlling of experimental variables was lacking in this procedure.

The whole thing was incredibly involved and I utilized my mother for doing part of it as i said to my younger brother, "I think I have discovered the key to everything... I just say some large chemical jargon thats close to what i am doing and bam no one questions it. Moms not going to say, those values for Pka dont lend themselves to salts, no this doesnt make sense at all!" So my mom helped me extract 2,3,4 trimethoxybenzaldehyde because why not its close enough i dont feel like im lying, more like mispronouncing the structure maybe but yeah best thing ever.

Well anyway this isnt meant to be a trip report its meant more to document the fact this was 24 hours after my last dose of methadone. So i am exploring the newly isolated compound that i took about 5 weeks to prepare in standard fashion, i sit there marveling at my drive and skill the fact i was able to do all of this and the end result is legal mescaline that i have a direct connection to. I've done with with a lot of stuff so i literally planned about 4 hours of sitting on my bed doing nitrous and smoking weed going "oh man i cant believe im a genius, take that me who i said i wasnt and couldnt do this or that this cacti was bunk or that my pH meter was broken. Take that!"

So I proceed to go out with my younger brother we go see "the jerry garcia band" after being snuck in for free we stay there till 11pm then drive to another city to see "thriftworks" a DJ set. We end up getting some K and doing it, its all really cool except the mescaline does not provide energy so i spend the duration just sitting there staring at the DJ playing the set. It was fine for me but i couldnt help but think it looked odd lol.

But anyway i K holed before bed accepted my own death etc, standard K hole stuff. The following day i couldnt sleep and felt like shit i thought it was just from not sleeping and 48 hours off methadone. Then the following day even worse, and i mean i felt like i was dying. I was thinking to myself this cant be day 3 of 0 methadone this is terrible. Come to find out the following day, so 4 hours after my last dose my younger brother got a fever of 103 and has the flu... This lead me to realize i probably had the flu. I was basically kicked out of work saturday for looking like i was going to die, i felt like i was going to die but i thought it was the methadone so i suffered through it because i have a rule about suffering during with withdrawal, i bought it on myself so i deserve to suffer.

I really thought i was going to collapse on Saturday and my attributing it to methadone means i dont feel sick at all anymore! LOL i cant believe i went to work with the flu assuming it was methadone sickness... talk about warrior over here.

This one has been a long time coming. I have gone through the methadone program, having never accepted take homes due to "f that" philosophy, and today was my last 2mg dose! I was meant to see my counselor for a final meeting, she loves me by the way, so at the end of it i was explaining my plans as I told her I turned down a better job.

Basically the convo went something like this "oh i plan i going to this festival that festival this club to see that EDM producer" and she said "you dont think going to those things and being around those people will make you use" and I responded "no theres no heroin or crack there, its real hippy psychedelic shit so no not at all" she asked what i would be doing if i went to those shows to which i stated "oh i absolutely love psychedelics and MDMA i will be taking those when i go for sure" That bit of information floored the woman and we got into a small discussion about how i feel she thinks all drug use is for assigned reasons which is fine but my use of psychedelics is purely an enhancer of what is already there and ive been doing them since i was 16 responsibly.

But yeah talk about funny literally last 10 minutes being like "bitch ive been doing L molly and K for the past months now and if anything they are the reason i wont do what i use to do, they are the things i enjoy the things i dont abuse and the only substances i have managed to keep under complete control as i would never do anything to ruin such a pure experience." I mean she knows im trying to go back to school for chemistry and i have the next 5 years of my life planned out, i try to be open and honest telling her that i wouldnt stop smoking weed and its none of the words fucking business if i smoke a joint before bed and i wont stop. I am a man of conviction who knows what he wants and honestly i would know if my life fell off the tracks as i enrolled in programs twice when that happens i have no problem admitting when things are out of hand but i dont see candy flipping at shows and a once a week at most k hole alone before bed as detrimental.

But yeah I think finally getting to say all of that put me in a good mood, i mean my counselor 100% respected me and trusted my opinion so i figured last day id tell her who i truly was... Like the worst part about coming off was demotivation I can handle fractured sleep i do sleep so Im not complaining about that constantly needing to shit isnt too big of a deal but it made me so sad my chemistry stuff was coming in and i lacked the motivation to use it. Like seriously made me think of what it would be like if i couldnt do it ever and how my life would become pointless i mean i knew the motivation would come back chemistry is my life but it made me sad to think when im 70 what if i cant do it.

Sorry for the rambling and shit I am just so happy to say i am off methadone, happy today as this was my last 2mg i will see how i feel between days 4-7 the days that always proved to be the most uncomfortable.

But i changed my profile picture as i am the william wallace electron breaking free of the large cluster fuck mass that held me in place forever. FREEDOM!

5 hours and 13 minutes until the clinic opens and I can get my dose. 160 mgs of temporary relief mixed with 150mg of hydroxine and 1200mg of gabapentin. On a good day I am able to drift off in a semi nod for 4 or 5 hours. On a great day I re-dose the gabapentin and sleep all day. That's really all I want to do. Sleep.

Then there are the benzos. I am straddling the line of physical addiction. I don't really know how often I take them because its frankly hard to remember with all the downers I take. I sometimes wonder if I wasn't better off on heroin? I had a job, I left the house for more than the hour I spend at the clinic. Everyone keeps telling me that they are proud. Look how much progress you made a year without heroin! Hell I have even quit smoking weed. My main dealer quit and I am too lazy to find a new one. Is that progress?

I have taken 3000mg of gabapentin a half mg of kpin and I still feel like blowing my brains out. Scratch that I want to go out with a needle in my arm, guns scare me. I just don't find pleasure in the everyday things other people do. Look I hold no illusions about that lifestyle. Its just that I feel as sad now as I did when I was using heavily. I was closer to living one year ago then I am too living today. I had a job, I took showers, I brushed my teeth, Girls occasionally smiled at me. I had the beginnings of the life I wanted. I gave it all away.

I guess that's the frustrating part I am not even sure what this is? Like is it better to not shoot heroin but have no job no friends and be fucking miserable. I guess that's the main problem I am depressed to the point of having no motivation. I literally shower once a week. Usually before my counseling appointment. Got to keep up appearances for the people who write the drugs. Funny shit is I am more concerned with getting the gabapentin than the kolonopin. I love that damn drug. I ate fucking 3000mgs of the shit today. Its not a good drug to redoes though.

4 and a half hours until the clinic opens. Fuck that's too long.

Serious reformation, on it's way.

Fuck this lifestyle.

Once upon a time, there was a President of the United States named Richard Milhous Nixon. This individual is noteworthy for several reasons including (but not limited to) the fact that he is the only PotUS to have ever resigned from office; that despite his assertion that "[he is] not a crook," a felonious crook he turned out to be; and that his successor (former President Ford) inexplicably pardoned him of any and all criminal offenses one month after his resignation.

It is also noteworthy to point out that President Nixon - who formally began the so-called war on drugs ~44 years ago, and was responsible for the creation of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) - reportedly was also a frequent recreational consumer of the legal drug known as Alcohol - the very same one which has conclusively been shown to be carcinogenic in any amount, as well as neurotoxic (kills brain cells) and hepatotoxic (and also liver cells).

When it came to minority groups of Americans whom President Nixon especially hated, two in particular stood out above the rest: first and foremost: any and all Hippies; and secondly: the portion of Vietnam Vets who happened to return home suffering from often-severe cases of PTSD (traumatized repeatedly by the unimaginable horrors of war they witnessed) and a drug addiction (typically Diacetylmorphine [Heroin]) which they resorted to as a coping mechanism.

And so, in order to boost his Presidential Approval Rating, Nixon (possibly with the aid of Kissinger) eventually hatched an incredibly two-faced plan that would turn out to be the worst investment in the history of investments: he would ban every drug that - for reasons partly related to genetic diversity as well as varying personal tastes and preferences - the aforementioned two minority groups preferred over Alcohol and/or Nicotine.

Furthermore, Nixon would make use of the resources at his disposal to scapegoat, stigmatize and criminalize anything having to do with the mind altering substances commonly consumed by Hippies, and to a lesser degree, those used without permission by Vets who were usually mentally ill (again, typically from PTSD symptoms), as at the time, mental disorders in general were looked down upon in a manner far exceeding any controversial or taboo content regarding such health problems. And of note, Alcohol and Nicotine were exempt and just about completely ignored by what would be known as the Controlled Substances Act.

Fast forward over 4 decades - America is now the world's biggest jailer by far with ~25% of the world's prison population; approximately $1,500,000,000,000 USD in tax payer money has been spent on the war on drugs; every prison in America has been infiltrated with the same 'street drugs' for which a countless number of mostly non-violent Americans are in there for; drug kingpins either remain untouchable, or are able to somehow escape maximum security prisons on multiple occasions, and their yearly combined ~$350,000,000,000 in laundered USD drug dealing waiting lists are never-ending; street drugs are increasingly available, increasingly diverse, and priced lower to anyone without the need to show I.D; and there has been absolutely no tangible progress made by the DEA and their associates - none, zero, zilch, nada.

If there's a lesson to be learned from the war on (certain) drugs, it is this: The moment that a governing body decides to meddle in the personal (and in the case of simple drug possession, victimless) affairs of its citizens by (in a spectacular display of futility) forcibly removing and criminalizing access to a person, place or thing that they commonly resort to (or in some cases, rely on), a power vacuum is nearly always left in its place - one that organized crime likely shall never be deterred to almost immediately begin to exploit purely for profit.

And why wouldn't they? The fact of the matter is that their government has all but handed them the keys to supplying that demand on a silver platter (at a level of risk which will influence little more than pricing). And after comparing historical events of our species' very short time inhabiting this planet, it's clear that the financial exploitation of the war on (certain) drugs (in the form of a pattern established thousands of years ago) leads to an all-too-common eventuality that can be applied to just about any 'supply and demand' scenario.

Combine the above with an enduring legacy of blatant, shameless, greedy, long term hypocrisy ("Drugs are bad - stay away kids, don't ever touch them, okay? Good. Excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke."), deceit (such as the DEA's views of parity on the acute and long term risks re. Weed vs. Heroin) and double standards (by way of embracing pretty much anything that contains Ethyl Alcohol and is considered fit for human consumption), and eventually, society will sure as hell reach a chaotic tipping point, where no one will stand for it any longer despite the potential consequences.

The reality is that more and more people are turning to clandestinely synthesized 'street drugs' because of increasingly-tightening laws regarding their Rx counterparts. And more and more non-violent, otherwise law-abiding Americans are reporting being unjustly exploited by viciously violent law enforcement officers who routinely abuse Asset Forfeiture, Stop 'n Frisk, Mandatory Minimums and Three Strikes Laws (all meant to be used solely on drug dealers) because more arrests means greater bonuses and promotions (more money in their pockets each year, and it's truly sickening to witness).

All in all, our society has suffered more so from the war on drugs than it has from the street drugs themselves, and still some people believe it's a good thing to continue the status quo?! No one benefits more from prohibition of anything in constant demand than organized crime. This fact should have been made awfully clear when we tried to ban Alcohol, and reign of gangland terror soon followed until the very end.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein + "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." - George Santayana = the war on drugs in a nutshell

You are such a babe. I'm going to ask you out. And if you say no, well, I won't take it for an answer. I mean, I'll take it as an answer, and then ignore it. Not in a rapey way - no means no, I get that. I mean it in a Notebook kinda way (all though I've never seen it.) Romantic like. Yeah, i'm not very good at this.

So please come for a drink with me. I want to get to know you. What I like about you is that you don't remind me of anyone I know. You make me laugh, and I love your rebelliousness. I can see the individualism in you, and its hot. You have big, beautiful eyes, and a smile to match. Cheeky, full, and bright. You seem like a good girl - in the streets. I'm not implying you're a freak in the sheets... But don't lie to me. You like to get a bit weird.

Before I get any weirder, I'll stop.

Go out with me Emily, I think you're cute.

I ran out of gabapentin 5 days ago and started experiencing somekind of withdrawals. I have been taking low doses of Xanax to eliminate them. I will get the gabapentin refilled tomorrow and see if I am addicted to benzos and gabapentin or just gabapentin. I am scared. I know I am walking a fine line with the benzos. If the it is just gabapentin withdrawal then I am going to take a good long break from benzos. fuck me. Even when I am trying to do right I en up fucking up. Pray to the drug gods that it is not a benzo addiction please.