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A few weekends ago I wrote a report of my weekend, but it was so scrappy and lacking It wasn't worth the effort. We got a big ass bag of some weed with a hang over that bled into the next few days and the most hazy and intense high. I smoked to the point of insanity and although it was pretty good, for the rest of the day after smoking it, a good 6-8 hours after being high I remember nothing and I was just in a sort of confused haze.

I am currently on day 3 of my 4 day sesh before I try to get my head down for some solid revision. Day one Me, Ethan, Carl and Forbes "slept" in Forbes tiny Summer house. The reason I had to more or less sleep in a shed was due to the fact these people would rather sit in a shed high all night than be warm and comfy in their own beds. This was my first sign that weed maybe isn't a positive thing right now.

Next I started thinking about how Ethan and Forbes argued for about 5 minutes about who was going to shut the curtains and butter the toast. These two actions would of taken less than 30 seconds together, but they argued and argued as they were to lazy to stand up.

This was the second sign. Not only do these people go to stupid lengths for weed, but it sweeps away the little enthusiasm for life they already had.

After that me and Ethan went out drinking with the familiars for his birthday after finally sharing a joint with his parents. Me, Ethan, Peter, Annelise and Ji-had drove to Joes house where Chris, Joe, Chloe, Alissa and some boy called Jonathan were just smoking away a 5 gram bag. I drank around half a litre of vodka so I was pretty drunk and Peter was just drinking everything so he was just hammered but everyone else avoided drinking to much as when your high drinking isn't that appealing.

Unfortunately we got kicked out the house and we couldnt go to any parties due to some complications with Peter and some of the people there so we all exasperated. I was a little disappointed we didn't get a party but was too drunk to really care.

Next me and Ethan woke up a little disgruntled and not sure what we wanted to do with the day. The only thing we actually had to do was get a fiver more in the bank to order some AMT, but when we got there the bank was closed. We had some money but we got in a huge fight with Alexander over the money I owe him. Eventually after unsuccessfully hunting down some weed which I wasn't even in the mood for we phoned Carl to phone Blaire who had some Kat.

I've done it a few times before and generally the people who sell it are pretty dodgy unpredictable and in a shit tonne of debt so its pretty risky to buy, but eventually I convinced Ethan we should go for it but he was sure he wouldn't do any (hahahaha).

When we went to the bank we saw for some reason, yes again for the second time Ethan had for some reason been paid his EMA in the holiday. So £120 up and in a MUCH better mood we headed to Hilton to pick up some weed off Raymond and the Kat off blaire.

I have spent a lot of time sitting on that bench. High, tweaked, drunk and sober 60% of the time no matter what my plans are I end up sitting on that bench. But this time everything happened oddly quick. We actually got the kat straight up instead of having to make a blind leap of faith and hand him the money and expect him to go fetch it entirely out of his own good will. It happened when I was switching a twenty for two tenners in the shop so I didnt even see Blaire. Ray came and cycled off with Ethans money and came back right on time with a pretty shy looking 2 gram bag, but we had Kat so what ever.

So with some drink from the night before, "2 grams" and a gram of Kat we headed to Alex's empty house, and oh boy did we have a fun night!

Ill continue this in a new post.

So I had been doing a pretty good job of recording the basics of events to the best of my memory, but due to my skittery and jitterish mind I leave out so much and try to write too much at once. This is no longer beneficial as it feels too limiting and it stops the flow of my life having to record it all. I am no longer going to try to write down everything I do and all my main thoughts and feelings as it simply isnt working.

I am trying to record all my thoughts which is simply impossible and horribly un-natural. Thoughts are important in the moment and dont belong on text. I will still try to write in the blog a little, but not to the same extent I have before.

This recovery business can sure feel like hard work at times. I've been in and out of the rooms for a number of years now, never fully conceding to the fact that i was a hopeless addict going nowhere in life. I thought that i could moderate, using sporadically but a couple of days a week soon turned into everyday. Once a drug is in my system i become a fiend. It's like that saying i hear so often 'one is never enough and a thousand is too many'.

Recently, i've been having using dreams and experiencing euphoric recall. Sometimes i miss those days when i could chemically manufacture my feelings and self-medicate my uncomfortable feelings.



It can be easy to forget how bad it got. I'm having to up my meetings and get on with my step work to remind myself. My recovery has to come first without it don't stand a chance and i will lose everything i've worked so hard at to get back.

I wish anyone else who is struggling all the best, together we can recover.

EDIT 21/01/2016 2:11 am: Lol, sorry if I sound like an antsy teenager, it was a particular stage of my life. I still think it's a good reflection, so I'll leave it here, but it would definitely be a bit different if I had written this today. Meh.

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I'm starting to ACTUALLY realize how fucked up this society is. I always knew there was something wrong, but now I''m starting to realize what it is.

Our lives are meaningless. Life is the greatest gift we were given, it's the manifestation of that energy and oneness (God?) that's inside and outside everything and permeates every atom of this universe, and how do we waste it? Waking up every damn morning to spend another day in this damn nonsense, stuffing our lives with material bullshit in hope that it will give us happiness.

People think that accumulating money and stuff will give them "freedom".
"One day I'll be rich and famous and will have a big house and will have whatever I want and yadda yadda yadda" and what happens when this actually becomes true? they realize their life sucks.
We spend our entire lives in the regrets of the past and with the fear of the future.
We are so caught up in this that we don't realize there is something else and that is here right NOW.

The human being can either live as a beast or as a God which is our true nature, ("Fatti non foste per viver come bruti" said my compatriot Dante Alighieri in the Divina Commedia) and our society forces us to live as the former.

We, as humanity, have to refuse this bullshit, realize that all this is an illusion and that we are eternal, while the material world is not.
We have to raise our consciousnesses and humanity will be One awareness, suffering will be erased from our existence.
we will be God as we are meant to be.

But I wonder if this is possible, I wonder if we are ready, because we have been thaught for centuries that this nonsense is the true reality, we have mental barriers that we are not willing to let down maybe because we don't even realze we have them.

Humanity needs to evolve, and when it will happen we won't be human anymore but we'll be Gods.

I leave you know with these lyrics (from Akeldama - The Faceless) that inspired this rant:

"To live in true freedom is to release all inhibitions
The fears of mortality must be forgotten ;
No longer living for death , no longer dying to live
Existence and non -existence coagulating
Safety found through ignorance ; shackling human individuality."

Goodbye my friends.

Going round and round and round and round in my mind. You ever wake up one day and feel hopeless for no reason? That feeling has been with me this week. People have been suggesting it's SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) and I suggest that's a dumb suggestion because I literally just woke up one day feeling like I had lost all hope. Along with the inexplicable depression, I can't shake the flashbacks of regrets in my mind, of people I knew and loved and drifted away from. Small mysteries ingrained in my mind leak out into my consciousness at random. Why did she smile that time? Did he move because of me? How much impact did my existence have in their lives?

It was disturbing for me, when I first found out that a relationship between two of my friends hit the rocks hard because of something I said one day, lying in the grass staring up at the clouds after baseball practice. I didn't mean shit by it; just stupid little words falling out of my mouth. As much as I try not to dwell on the past, memories in living colour are what come to me whenever I feel like I've lost sight of the future.

I have lost sight of the future. I'm inching closer to 30 and have almost got my identity all figured out except what I do in life. People are defined by their careers, but I don't want that to be me. I don't want to ever again be a part of the rat race, the corporate world, where I sign away my freedom to express myself in exchange for a salary. I always remember the monologue from the movie Network, with those haunting words: "I'm a human being, goddammit! My life has value!"

I feel overwhelmed to live in a world, thirty seven years after that famous monologue was first heard, and look around to see that conditions are even worse than they were back then. Sure, our material standard of living has improved, but as someone who doesn't really give a fuck about the material world that shit doesn't mean a damn thing to me.

Spiritually, things have just gotten worse and worse. Even as the federal government announces they're getting close to balancing the budget, an astronomical feat in today's global economy, the average amount of non-mortgage household debt amongst Canadians is almost 30G. Year by year, that amount only seems to get higher and higher because people are taking on more debt before they've even paid their past debts in full.

Everyone I seem to meet these days has money on their minds. "Money will buy me freedom, money will buy my happiness". Even when people aren't using those words, it's obvious that's what people are thinking.

"If I win the lotto..." she said, with a sardonic laugh as she blew cigarette smoke out the window wistfully with her eyes unfocused. "I know," I said, "just make sure you give me a mill or two when you do so I can quit this shit job with you."

What happened to our sense of community? What happened to the idea that humans are the most precious commodity, and that we need to invest not money into material goods, but time and effort into fostering relationships with the people we surround ourselves with? You can invest all the money in the world in an idea, or an organization, or even just a cause, but it won't do a damned thing unless there are people there to use that money. So why do the recipients of invested money always use it in antisocial ways to line the pockets of shareholders at the cost of communities? We've grown cool with the fact that our souls live in ghost towns so our bodies can sleep under down covers in a half-a-million-dollar house somewhere in suburban oblivion.

I don't know. The only thing that seems important to me is not what I end up doing for a living in the next ten years, or the next twenty years, or for the rest of my life, but rather the communities I can be a part of and the people whose lives I can help build for the better. I've lived a pretty self-indulgent life so far, and I regret it. I regret all the money I've spent on drugs and material shit. I regret all the effort I put into a job to make me feel like I'm happy and productive and worth something, only to watch people I care about get laid off all around me and realize that, ultimately, I'm powerless and that we're all alone even though we struggle with the same realities. And I wonder; I wonder if we would still feel that profound quiet of loneliness if we replaced our endless desire to have more with a desire to be more.

I haven't been quite the same since I relapsed on meth a few weeks ago. We stopped after four days, but each day has been a struggle not to use again. Looking back on it, I know that my boyfriend and I felt terrible the last day, but I'm already forgetting why. After we used we said that the next time we did it we would try to go out of town and make a little vacation out of it. That way we wouldn't have any commitments to flake out on or responsibilities we needed to attend to. But I just simply don't want to wait that long and don't want to have to go out of town to use. I like using here and I like working on meth. I know that sounds silly, but when you start using meth, you really can work on it and still delivery quality material. But as the days slip by and sleep evades you, obviously your work starts deteriorating and you start flaking out. The trick is to not use often enough to let that happen. Easier said than done, right? I was hoping that when we picked up meth again that we would be able to do it once a month or so. But after the last time, my boyfriend made it quite clear that he doesn't want to use it that often and that we shouldn't do it here again. I agreed. At the time, I think I meant it. I know the risks. I know the dangers. I'm trying not to make it out to be better than it is. But my stupid addict brain keeps telling me that this time would be different. As long as it wasn't weekly, we would be okay.

I know how silly this must sound, especially if you've read any of my blog posts before. I know the devastating effects it can have on my life. I just keep thinking that if we were able to keep each other in check and not use on weekly basis that everything would be fine. But even if it was possible... would it be worth it? I'm already straddling two worlds by being a junky. And that can be challenging enough trying to keep that juicy tidbit of info hidden from so many people IRL. Would it even be possible with meth? But the craving is just so strong. My body screams out, "YES! Of course it's possible! You just don't let yourself get out of hand like the last two times. This time you could do it." But my brain say, "I don't know... that would be challenging. It would be difficult for either one of you to keep it regulated and in check." You notice... I can't even bring my brain to say "No! Definitely Not!" And that's the logical part of me that should be saying that. I just can't bring myself to so definitively cut myself off from it again. I haven't even wanted to talk about it with my shrink. I haven't scheduled an appointment in two weeks, because I don't want to be talked into thinking rationally about it. I want to use again and I want it to be soon. Period. But as some smart drug addicts and junkies once said...

"You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."

Well, I am trying. I'm hoping maybe if I put enough space between uses, that I'll remember why we agreed not to use at home and put so much time between uses. The first day that we used, we talked about putting two weeks between uses, at least. I was totally fine with that. In fact, I was excited about that. But somewhere within those three or four days, I guess his mind changed. And I guess that's a good thing. I just don't want it to have to be this big occasion when we go out of town and everything. I want it to be a weekend at home thing. I guess I made him feel guilty because I was really depressed a few days after thinking that this was going to be the only time for a while. And I gave him some shit about not talking to me about it first and just springing the surprise on me. But I would take every word of that back now if it meant we could try it again here. I was happy when he brought it home. Maybe what I was really saying is, I should be able to bring it home by surprise sometimes.

I don't know. It just sux. Addiction sux. I know I am no longer physically addicted to meth. But like they say, "Once an addict, always an addict". I keep telling myself that if I knew I was able to use more frequently than 4 times a year then I wouldn't be so depressed. If we could go back to that 2-4 weeks between uses, then I would be able to deal better with the off time. Man, I know this is a post that anyone who is not a drug addicts will just shake their heads at and think "What is wrong with that girl?" But this is my blog - about drugs - so this is how a drug addict thinks. Trust me. We can rationalize the moon being purple if it meant we could use more drugs. Ah, whatever. I'm going to try to stop thinking about it right now (and yes, that means slamming heroin.) *Sigh*

Baal was the richest
Beelzebub controlled the masses
The simplest of goats
Beelzebub always harasses
Enslaved in never ending sex
And surrounded by the same
Provided the backdrop
For their never ending game
Satanic in prose
And innocent in cheer
They committed murder
While drunk on the finest of beer
Blood instead of wine
Mixed with whiskey instead
They laughed rather befuddled
Over their conquests of the dead
Her name was Attica
She wanted all the same
Her purple velvet robe
Was covered in bloodstains
Eyes icy blue
And a figure to kill
With Bulemia Nervosa
Which made her constantly ill
She worshiped the devil
And always by her side
Was intravenous morphine
Which took her along for the ride

So, since the age of like 13-14, I've experienced major depression for almost my entire adult life. Doctors still haven't diagnosed me correctly yet, I was on many different SSRI's for like 4 years and it never helped, honestly, I really believe it just made my depression worse. I've had plenty of doctors suspect bipolar disorder but the major reason they couldn't diagnose it was because of my lack of major manic symptoms, I tend to have more depressive symptoms that last for weeks to months then one day, like magic, I'll wake up and just feel euphoria from life for about a week.
I've done my own research and I really believe I may be suffering from Bipolar II Disorder, the symptoms are, feeling more depression then hypomania, a higher chance of suicide/suicide attempts, short periods of hypomania followed my much longer periods of depression, also, I've read that Bipolar II Disorder can be more difficult to diagnose. This really sounds a lot like how I've felt for years and also explains the reason I've been treated for depression but, even though it's been suspected, no diagnosis of bipolar disorder has ever been made by a doctor.
What really got me looking into this was the final episode in season 4 of "Shameless" on Showtime (SPOILER ALERT). It depicted a 20 something year old kid who was hardly sleeping, acting like he was on stimulants and just always on the go, happy and energetic. In the final episode of the season, he just wouldn't wake up, things had been going great and then the next thing I knew he's super depressed and slept for like 24+ hours strait, not getting up for anyone or anything.
See, that first part is not me, I may get a slight rise in energy level for 5-7 days or so where I do little things like go on hikes, spent more time with friends, stay awake for up to 24 hours (not using any stimulants at all) because I'm having fun and I'd say just generally being a lot happier with my life and myself. What happens next is probably the most painful thing that happens in my life right now, I'll just shift from being a tad bit more energetic for a while then normal people are to one day not having the energy to even get out of bed, sometimes I'll stay asleep for up to 20+ hours. This can sometimes be triggered by something but often I don't know why it's happening.
Usually, this lasts for up to like a month, getting fairly less sever after usually the first 7-14 days but for about a week or 2, all I want to do is sleep and often, I'll wish I'd die in my sleep. When I am awake, usually I'm still in bed and I mainly just watch TV, shoot up bupe, drink, take benzos and smoke pot, trying to get back to sleep. I don't eat very much at all during these times either, generally about 1, normal sized meal per day, if even that sometimes. This is all when I start get suicidal, my self esteem will be way down, I'll absolutely hate myself and killing myself is just sitting in my mind all day long, reasons to do it, how to do it, etc. Thankfully, though I've tried in the past, I don't think I'll go through with killing myself, not intentionally anyways but it's hard to say, I feel like really going through with it but I have too many people counting on me, Basically my best friend just lost a relative to suicide and he told me after that he can't handle me kill myself, he knew I'd been up and down emotionally, especially at that time when I was trying to taper... my mom has lost 2 baby's before I was born and I'm now actually an adult, I can't kill myself and do that to her, I can't do it to anyone who really cares about me
Having so many people around me who care I think does really help, a lot but when I get into a major depression, sometimes I just feel like I'd be helping them in the long run by dying, I know right now that's untrue, thankfully I'm doing okay today but at the time and in the moment, I can really convince myself it's true. I just want to know what's going on and why my mood can be so different at times, I need to find a doctor that's better or something, my big problem though is that I HATE almost all medications besides opiates/opioids, benzos and then like heart medications and stuff that people really need to live, all the other medications I've tried have fucked with my head anywhere from mildly to severally depending upon the drug.
I really would like to see if there's some kind of treatment that doesn't just mean giving someone "zombie" like drugs all day I mean hey, if I'm all dazed on heroin, great lol but I don't want to feel like my brain is being twisted to where I could either be just mentally slow and dull with no euphoria or I could have a psychotic episode. Thankfully it's spring and it's been nice and sunny for a few days, that always helps my mood a bunch. I'm still feeling okay and plan on trying hard to give up IVing bupe soon, I plan on using up the majority of my micron filters, having someone hold the last 2-3 to be safe but I want them to be out of the house then I'm going to throw every syringe away except a few to plug with, no needle then I'm going to do my best to change my ROA around again to something a lot less risky. I'm staying happy about this though lately, my use has gone up because I'm scared to quit but I need to, my veins are getting to be harder and harder to find, a few have collapsed, I'm having to use more visible spots where the track marks are a lot easier to see.
I'm happy, I found a new vein around the top of my arm, closer to the underside of the arm then the crook is and it's good to see I'm not as close to being out of veins as I thought but thinking I was running out of veins was enough of a concern to make me still want to stop while I've only got a few collapsed veins instead of going until they all either collapse or get so much scar tissue on and around them, they're almost impossible to hit. If I can switch from shooting up bupe to using another ROA, this will be the best spring and summer of my life! Last summer, I was in withdrawal almost every day because I'd tried tapering my bupe dose down but I wasn't at a low enough dose to quit yet. I was buying it on the street and I was having trouble continuously getting enough of some form of bupe to stay well so I had to keep tapering, a lot faster then my body could tolerate too so I often had to take 1/2 the dose I physically needed to make sure I'd at least have something until I could find more. That summer was shit, I did feel great at times because I was happy with how hard I'd been trying and about the fact I'd been persistent about really trying to completely stop over the summer but all in all, I'd much rather just stay on bupe this summer, maybe lower my dose just because I'm on a fairly high one but also, I really want to stop shooting. I feel like if I accomplish this, I'll do a lot better emotionally because just changing my ROA around is such a big deal to me and it's been so hard to do, I've tried so many times over the years and always went back to the needle but I'm not giving up yet, I'm back to trying to better my life and take the small steps to finally be happy and even though I know I still have a lot to deal with like my self esteem issues, you really can't ever just give up no matter how hard it gets sometimes :D

Smoked a lot more weed than usual at the weekend. I played football with Sam and Ross and some of the local residents of Farr and everyone off the bus for about an hour on Friday which was actually quite fun. I went home that night and got a lift in on the Saturday morning. I met Alexander, Ethan, Peter and Annelise sitting around the falcon square. They were all baked and I it got sort of agro when we started talking about AMT.

We went off to our usual garden area, this time with Alexander being the monkey to get over first and unlock the door. Its a huge wall to climb and he gets it first time. Once in we all talk quite a bit but Peter and Annelise go back to Ethan's house. We stay and get really high. We then go to subway to order food. When I first realised everyone was staring at me as I was obviously high I felt like a little bit of an intrusion on society, but soon after being polite I realised I was still the same person I am sober. The Subway is good but quite messy. We smoke another joint and wait for Alexander's mum to pick us up. The car journey is pretty easy. We get there and I see Liam from school helping his Dad re-do Alexanders floor. It was good seeing him as I wasn't really high at this point.

After a while we head outside to smoke as much as we can. About 3 packed joints in we just have to stop. I look at the sky and realise just how much cloud cover there was. The only obstruction on the perfect surface like sky of clouds was a curved line in the middle. The sky set the mood as we sat there outside. It felt like it was triggering a deep sense of de ja vu and something else to complicated to understand from some sort of child-hood trip. Weird. So we go in and sit watching a movie In Alexander's house. I realise how nauseous I get on doses above 0.6 and realise that this is sort of the highest you can get without the physical effects being too much, and It was sort of time to move in to other psychedelics.

I fall into a great sleep and wake up feeling alert and refreshed with an unexpected after glow. First thing we do is go out and smoke another joint before chilling until me and Ethan were dropped off at his house and Alexander went to his grandparents. We realise we have a lot of weed but no tobaco. We roll a blunt and consider whether to go find Peter and Annelise. Eventually we do. Considering they both smoke we could of just rolled a joint with their tobacco, but instead we smoke the blunt. My mother is coming to pick me up soon but I don't really care. I get a great sort of electric/more trippy high with everything looking quite animated but not cartoony, maybe from an animated film.

My mother only notices I am high about half way through the car ride. When I tell her she goes mental and starts shouting and screaming, telling me all the things I have planned that aren't happening but I am so high I just laugh it all off, and sure enough as predicted she is almost back to normal and feeling sorry for her self 20 minutes later. Not sure she is too well in the head after all the stuff with my Dad but honestly its not something I should worry about. I get home and write a pretty good Added Value Unit for English. I wake up the next morning off 7 hours sleep as I was up quite late doing the AVU and feel fine. I had no comedown for the whole weekend, this is some good weed :D .

Alright, so this story is just about my life, but it happened to me yesterday, and I just wanted to share it with some people. Sorry for all the back-ground given, but, I’m assuming whoever’s reading this isn’t a telepathic fucking mind reader, so, bear with me.

So, overall, my drug career has almost solely focused on weed. Around 80-90% of the time that I’ve been high in my life, it’s been off of weed (and whenever I’ve done other drugs, I’ve involved a lot of weed – just keep that in mind for the rest of this blog post). I’m a pothead, big whoop.

That being said, weed isn’t cheap – I’ve had to do a lot of stupid, menial jobs just to get enough money to smoke – waiter, server, construction (over the summer), etc.

Anyway, this was all going on for me at first in late high school and then I started going to a top 20 university in the U.S. – say what you want about higher education, but, if anything, it’s a bit of fucking work. While I had always been a naturally hard/smart/talented student, as a freshman in college, weed started taking over my life. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but I just used all the money I had saved up on weed or on excursions when I was high.…it’s like, whatever genetic capacity is within a squirrel to tell that little seemingly idiotic animal to bury its nuts in the ground over the winter so that they can easily access their stores of food in the spring – yeah, I must have the exact opposite trait to that…

Either way, though, that’s all well and good for a freshman to act a fool by smoking some pot, but by my sophomore year, through my weed connections (in other words, the other people I knew who smoked weed at my dorm…), I got into Adderall too.

Now, I’m not going to get into the finer details of everything, but I used Adderall for 2 years and most of the time, I did it in perfectly normal doses (20-40-60 mg). But near to the end of my use of this common stimulant drug, I started binging for almost no reason – did about 6-8 separate sessions total where I did 150-200 mg in a 24 hour period. When this was happening, I weighed in at 190-215 pounds, so I thought I could handle the higher amounts, but uh, I don’t know man, my body hasn’t been the same since all those binge sessions went down (I did 4-5 of these binge sessions in April-May, then another 4-5 of them in November-December of 2012), to be perfectly honest.

And this has been for the last year and a half now. I still can smoke weed without any major problems, but, um, I can’t work out like I used to, my blood pressure gets pretty high sometimes, and, well, I feel absolutely miserable, mainly because working out used to be MY MAIN HOBBY…I mean, it wasn’t hard for me to get a 6 pack, or to get into light bodybuilder size. It was actually hella fun. And, the thing is, I still am unsure if most of my problems are just in my head or if they’re actually physically real – I think it’s a combination of both, but, honestly, I guess I just underestimated the damage that Adderall could do on the body. All I know is…my body doesn’t feel the same as it used to before this one month period in late 2012 when I binged on Adderall about 4-5 times within that one month time span, specifically.

But…I’m not asking people reading this for their condolences or for their well wishes or for their suggestions/comments on my medical condition. Let me tell you this much – I at LEAST FEEL LIKE I took a number of years off of my life through stimulant addiction which never had to fucking happen….all four of my grandparents lived to at least 80 for God sakes…and they all died pretty suddenly without any extensive medical histories at that age. That might be part of how I used to be over-confident with stimulants…I always just thought of how my granddads had made it to 80-90 even with a few decades of cigarette smoking between the two of them, but, oh well, that was my thought process when fucked up 3-4 years ago.

More to the point though – fuck however many years I took off of my life in the long run. In the present, I am a 24 year old man who does not feel physically comfortable in his body, a body which 2 years ago had a 6 pack and was 180-190 (I got to 215 pounds a little later) pounds of flexible muscle. Those days seem like they were 50 years ago. I’m not lying, man…why the fuck would I lie about a feeling like that?? And this just from doing too much Adderall around 8-10 times max??? (And yes, there was a lot of other times where I did caffeine, and even some cocaine a few times, but…) I don’t know about you, but I feel fucked metaphysically in some way.

Anyway, all of this bullshit was the backstory to what happened yesterday. I was chilling at my crib after having done one of my dumbass jobs for the day, a job at which my body always feels like it’s holding me back from making more tips and getting any chance at a promotion…and, well, I had a revelation for a brief second.

I thought about ALL the money I’ve spent on weed/Adderall in the last few years…I mean, guys, it easily amounts to around 40-50 thousand dollars spent. I am being serious. Addict or not, I’m a hard worker. Obviously, the vast majority of this money went to weed. Only a few thousand dollars went to Adderall…but that was all it took to get the bodily damage done (I know I keep emphasizing this point to the point of redundancy, but hey, it’s my life, and it’s true, so my hands are sort of tied in that respect).

And then I thought back to this one time in freshman year, at the college I went to…I drove these two girls I knew (one of them I’d fucked) to the tattoo parlor in downtown near our campus, and the girl that I’d fucked asked me if I wanted to get a tattoo…I said nah and she was like, ‘Are you sure, this is a really good opportunity!?’ And yeah, I didn’t get a tattoo –I’m way too stubborn a person about shit like that to just get coaxed into doing something I hadn’t even thought about getting done before. And that happened a few months before I got into Adderall, and the downward spiral began with my life and the drugs and my body not feeling good anymore.

Well, the thought that went through my head the other day – if I could go back to that moment in time in the tattoo shop, start just getting tattoos, use all the hard money I had earned and WAS to earn in the future on tattoos instead of buying drugs like weed and Adderall, then I could have an absolutely killer tattoo setup on my upper body/arms AND be 100% in my physical body, which I am definitely not currently.

And then I just think about my parents deriding tattoos as a kid, and I think, yeah, bad advice, mom and dad, you fucking prudes!

Now I have a spiritual tattoo in a collective sense, if you ask me – now I have a body which has been through the drug wringer, as far as I feel it. You can’t tell it from looking at me – any damage I have is internal – but, nonetheless, it’s in my spirit now, this enfeeblement. And I feel marked for life, but NOT in a good way. And yeah, it’s depressing as hell. I’m a very young man, I’m not even 25 yet, I’m in the fucking prime of my fucking god-damn life, but, to what avail? I can’t beg God to go back in time a measly 2 years to get my fucking act together. Nah, I’m here to stay, unfortunately. A bad physical tattoo – you can get that removed!!!! Permanent internal scars from previous drug use – not so much.

I wish I could put a twist on this shit and make it sound happier, but, well, that can’t happen. In the technological age when I had full access to reading about the dangers of stimulants like Adderall, I failed my body. My body could’ve been saved by tattoos in favor of spending that money on drugs. Because, you got to understand, I’m a greedy, gratification oriented motherfucker. Although today I’ve started to learn how to save my money, when I was 19-20-21, the only thing I knew how to do with money was to spend that legal tender on whatever I well pleased – and 10 times out of ten, aside from food, it was drugs. Tattoos could have been a money-pit diversion, and my health could have been contained. But there it is – my tattoo revelation.

And I remember when that whole tattoo situation happened when I was a freshman – I thought there was some importance to that moment when I turned down the tattoo which just sort of dawned on me yesterday.

I understand that my life could’ve taken an infinite number of paths, but, yeah, that one with me starting out on getting tattoos would have been SO, SO, SO much preferable to the pain where I’m at now. I feel like I’m imprisoned in my body for the rest of my life and there’s nothing I can FUCKING DO ABOUT IT GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

If you’re in good health, cherish it, because that feeling that you have, of being healthy, of being alive and being able to do whatever you possibly want to with your body, that feeling is a privilege, not a right. Respect your bodily temple and don’t desecrate it like I have. Good riddance and peace be unto you my fallen brothers and sisters, even if you beg, it’s too late…we have to endure these burdens for the rest of God’s children, for those who won’t and never will understand what pain is, what opportunity wasted is, what giving but never receiving anything is. Because that’s what it is, the battered footfalls of death laughing at your scorned remains, still standing, but just waiting to lie down, fucked, for the last time.

Found my dad!

I never asked for this...

I never wanted to take drugs. I tried, every which way I could, to not take drugs. It was a decision that was forced upon me. I hated the idea, no... I loathed it. I saw drugs and drug addicts as the scum of the earth and I wanted no part in that. I vowed never to try anything, ever. I wouldn't even take Aspirin! ...I wish all I took was aspirin...

Everyday I wake up... I wake up disappointed that I woke up. Everyday starts out awful purely because I had to get up that day. Once I've woken up, it's still another 2 hours before I get out of bed. I lye awake in excruciating pain, praying that I'll be able to get just a few more minutes of peace. It never happens - the pain in my legs stops that. When I eventually do make my journey over the mountain that is referred to by most people as 'getting out of bed', I'm so tired that I can barely stand.

I got no sleep. Not because I choose not to get sleep, but because I was literally unable to sleep. Then, everyday, I would have to drag myself into the hell that was 'highschool'. I dreaded walking in the door. I was never on time. I couldn't be, it just wasn't possible. The teachers and office staff just thought I was lazy. That I didn't care... no... I definitely cared. I wanted to be able to go to school and feel normal. Actually talk to people, have friends, go to parties, sit by someone at lunch, anything... I wanted good grades, I wanted a life.

But no. All the teachers saw was another 'lazy' kid that didn't care. They would insult me, bully me, threaten me - tell me that if I didn't get my ass into school and that if I didn't do well that I was never going to amount to anything! That I would never have a life, that I would never have friends or a family. That all I would ever be was a bum. I got dirty looks from everyone. Kids, teachers... even the fucking janitors! They all judged me before they even knew me. But nobody cared - in fact, I was THE ONLY ONE that cared.

I cared about everything! My grades, having friends, my future! What they didn't understand is that my lack of stability at home stopped me from being able to function at all. I would stay up all night worrying about my family, my life...

I knew that I wasn't ever going to have a life, I knew that all I would be was a bum. I knew it. And yet, every day they would make a point of rubbing my shitty life in my face. The vice principle (Mr. Slater) was by far the worst.

I just can't believe I threw it all away again. Was doing well in college made a couple dumb decisions now I'm stuck in my .parents house no money or job. I never thought I was done with heroin. But I never thought I would get hooked like this again. Been really suicidal lately. All these people die from smack all the time. Why can't i? It's really not fair. I would rather be dead than keep feeling like this. I got a dose of 2-cb I am going to down tonight or tomorrow sit around and try to put it all together. Without some large revelation It's not gonna end well. Like at what point. Can I say "hey shit I tried I fought the good fight but it was just a little too much for me. Can't deal with the pressure without opiates.

Smoked a lot more weed than usual at the weekend. I played football with Sam and Ross and some of the local residents of Farr and everyone off the bus for about an hour on Friday which was actually quite fun. I went home that night and got a lift in on the Saturday morning. I met Alexander, Ethan, Peter and Annelise sitting around the falcon square. They were all baked and I it got sort of agro when we started talking about AMT.

We went off to our usual garden area, this time with Alexander being the monkey to get over first and unlock the door. Its a huge wall to climb and he gets it first time. Once in we all talk quite a bit but Peter and Annelise go back to Ethan's house. We stay and get really high. We then go to subway to order food. When I first realised everyone was staring at me as I was obviously high I felt like a little bit of an intrusion on society, but soon after being polite I realised I was still the same person I am sober. The Subway is good but quite messy. We smoke another joint and wait for Alexander's mum to pick
it up. The car journey is pretty easy. We get there and I see Liam from school helping his Dad re-do Alexanders floor. It was good seeing him as I wasn't really high at this point.

After a while we head outside to smoke as much as we can. About 3 packed joints in we just have to stop. I look at the sky and realise just how much cloud cover there was. The only obstruction on the perfect surface like sky of clouds was a curved line in the middle. The sky set the mood as we sat there outside. It felt like it was triggering a deep sense of de ja vu and something else to complicated to understand from some sort of child-hood trip. Weird. So we go in and sit watching a movie In Alexander's house. I realise how nauseous I get on doses above 0.6 and realise that this is sort of the highest you can get without the physical effects being too much, and It was sort of time to move in to other psychedelics.

I fall into a great sleep and wake up feeling alert and refreshed with an unexpected after glow. First thing we do is go out and smoke another joint before chilling until me and Ethan were dropped off at his house and Alexander went to his grandparents. We realise we have a lot of weed but no tobaco. We roll a blunt and consider whether to go find Peter and Annelise. Eventually we do. Considering they both smoke we could of just rolled a joint with their tobacco, but instead we smoke the blunt. My mother is coming to pick me up soon but I don't really care. I get a great sort of electric/more trippy high with everything looking quite animated but not cartoony, maybe from an animated film.

My mother only notices I am high about half way through the car ride. When I tell her she goes mental and starts shouting and screaming, telling me all the things I have planned that aren't happening but I am so high I just laugh it all off, and sure enough as predicted she is almost back to normal and feeling sorry for her self 20 minutes later. Not sure she is too well in the head after all the stuff with my Dad but honestly its not something I should worry about. I get home and write a pretty good Added Value Unit for English. I wake up the next morning off 7 hours sleep as I was up quite late doing the AVU and feel fine. I had no comedown for the whole weekend, this is some good weed :D .

and im out. permanently. 12 pack, 4 bag shot. its over quietly. im done, fuk this world.

My daily use of 2-fma has come to an end. Not because of any negative effects of the drug, but because of a dramatic change in my day-to-day life.

I got a full time job, a 9-5 Mon-Fri job, where I sit at a computer all day. I'm very happy about it, but it's not the type of situation I wanna be on 2-fma for. I don't mind the work I have to do, but I don't actively enjoy it either. When I was using 2-fma daily, it wasn't to help get me through the day, but to enhance things I already found fun and wanted to make more fun. I guess it was just odd because the thing I enjoyed so much was my job. But I just really, really loved unloading that truck. And I especially loved unloading the truck on 2-fma, it was just incredibly fun for me. I can't explain why I loved it so much, it doesn't make a lot of sense to other people. But that was part of the reason it was so hard for me to move on, grow up and get a "real" job.

Anyway, the point is, while my new job isn't bad at all, it's not exactly what I'd call "fun". So, to me, it would be a waste of 2-fma to go into work on it. I started on March 3, so it's been 4 weeks since I stopped the extensive 2-fma use. I haven't noticed any negative effects from stopping. Sober life has, however, opened my eyes to a couple of the negative things that were present when I was using so often. The biggest one is my sleep schedule. I know I said 2-fma didn't affect my sleep too much, but I realize now that it did. Now, I actually get tired by the end of the day and can fall asleep much easier. And I stay asleep the entire night or wake up just once in the middle and fall back asleep. I also feel less, idk the word for it, on edge? wound up? It's not that I'm less angry per say, I just have a longer fuse, I don't get frustrated as often. I'm unsure how much of that is due to the job switch though, as opposed to an effect of the 2-fma. But I know stimulants can have that effect on some people so it's possible.

I'm still a huge fan of 2-fma and stand firm in my belief that 2-fma is a better alternative over adderall. I don't regret my ~9 months of almost daily use at all. I did it 2 Saturdays ago and again today, just for fun. I guess this is my new pattern of drug use: on weekends/days off, just for fun. I guess that's what most people do.

I dreamed of two or three blond, long haired girls in the ocean, near a cliff face. There was rock protruding from the water, where they rested. I found myself with my face buried in ones ass, holding her upside down. And I got the feeling of her being a doll. Not real.

Then I remember being in bed, back at my parents house. And a guy was climbing on top of me. Not particularly attractive, but I became aroused, and then got on top of him. Then I came. And then came again, very intense. I was trying to dominate, with my ejaculating on him. It was aggressive. I aimed to cover him as much as I could, with what I had. I'd first come on his body/stomach chest. Then I aimed for his face. Then I said sorry, after that "moment" of sexual release passed. And he didn't mind.

I heard my mom showering. A shower running. In life I have been showering at the gym because my new apartment's tub hasn't dried proper. Every time I shower hot it smells like paint. So in this dream I said I need to go to work. And to the gym to shower. I wanted to hide him from my family. I didn't want to explain him. I finally did have to, to my brother, who came out if my parent's room- where the guy went. I said we met at the gym, and work out together. But I couldn't remember his name.

And then I remember something about my dresser. My dad had went and got my dresser. Clothes seemed to be out of it, and around.

I woke up questioning my sexuality, but I have had intense dreams of either sex. I only seem capable of having true feelings for girls. But sexually I'm rather open. I interpreted the dream, with covering, or questioned if I was covering my sexuality. Now I see, maybe only around certain people. I'm open with myself. But I dont consider the act sacred between a man and a man, like I do a man and female. Not like. Not that life itself isn't "sacred". I'm in argument, because I experience, and I prioritize.

Then later I masturbated, to transexual porn.

I really like girls. I don't care for the smell of males. I could never take seriously a transexual as a female, and date them seriously, like a female (and the girls I date need to be very on the feminine side, physically). They don't have a vagina. They don't produce milk. They aren't "mom", they're "dad". I'm dad.

Perhaps its my own desire to be a female. Not that I want to be a female (permanently, and I won't mutilate my body). But to experience it- Their power, their feelings. How to say it. I have curiosity, and interest.

I have been at points where I wouldn't care if the one I already loved, had a penis. Well, I still wouldn't. Of course I want femme, and what they are "supposed to have", but if I already loved them...

I signed up for Plenty of Fish, later. I deleted my previous account a few days ago. The first two people who viewed me were trans.

Merging.

My Seroquel
My Seroquel
It can't be defeated
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
On it I feel conceited
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Such an old friend
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Which is why I lift my pen
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Pop an ecstasy
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Think about the friends you'll meet
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Sometimes I pop two or three
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
But the milligrams stay under sixty
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Don't you dare take it away
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Violent video games I play
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Its so fun to say
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Like listening to darkcore on a bright day
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Its so exotic and chic
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Like spotting a tiger in a 4 by 4 jeep
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Definitely buy some coke
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Smoke that shit until you are broke
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Still smoking pot
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
And when we do we smoke alot
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Such a rush through my brain
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
They say that's because I'm insane
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
It puts me to sleep
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
And when I wake up I know I didn't cheat
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
I'll fold a flying crane
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Then put a bullet in your brain
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
My sanity must have flew the coop
My Seroquel
My Seroquel
Just remember it ain't for you

I have been a member here since 2005 when i first joined the attitude of the community was "to make a risky behavior as safe as possible". We accepted the fact that people where always going to use drugs so we need to arm them with the information to be as safe as possible without judging there choices. Without that ethic we are useless to drug users.

Slowly over time the administration of this site is trying to move away from that ethic. First it was decided that some drug use was just too risky to be condoned by the site so those threads where closed without the OP getting an answer. Know i see those posts being shipped to the dark side? Are we Narcotics Anonoumous.org or bluelight.ru? This policy puts the drug users we are trying to help in extreme danger. Yeah maybe the girl on methadone maitenance shouldnt shoot dope. But its not our place as a community to refuse to answer there question and for mods to delete the posts of people answering the question. Then to write some moral bullshit and ship it to TDS.

We need to decide if this site is about harm reduction or abstinance cause it cant be both.

Dope
Staring at the needle in my hand, starting to find it hard to comprehend,
The shot i took was a constant dare,
I was playing with my life,
like a kid running around with a knife.. but I didnt care.
Emotions, I had none to spare.
The dope, helping me run away,
helping me escape my own reality, and all in all helping me cope.
Truly it was my last bit of hope,until I met you.
Once I had saw your face my heart soon began to race and at once I felt i had found my place.
All because of you
a poem I wrote while I was locked up
even though I have relapsed I still wanted to show it to you guys

I am in school and I have a stunning sub teacher. She was around my age and wore a gold dress. Me and her were in the back of a flat when she suddenly found a black dot and started shouted 'This isn't my baby! its not mine!' and the situation deteriorates.

Next memorable thing I am in a friends house. We want to head out and meet people so she asks if we can go to a certain street which she calls the 'coffee box' to her father and says we will go and watch an episode of 'teen flinches'. The name sounded familiar, but so did the 'coffee box' almost like de ja vu in a dream. I think he drove the two of us there, but by that point I think her sister was in the car as well. I soon find out we are going to the cinema and that our photo will be taken. We get dropped off and as I walk there I realise I am with Alexander. First we are walking a long a street but soon enough we find ourselves in the woods.

Its dark. I first realise that I just drunk a lot of alcohol, for a little bit I feel a little odd, very confused and a little bit unable to look after myself. I am on top of a slight hill I look over and see a tree which I then realise is a hoover, hanging 10m or so up off a tree. I start question and exclaiming to Alexander 'why is there a hoover here!' for some reason at this point I believe where ever we were going was associated to a hoover, and it was a little odd to see one so early on our journey.

The following incidents happen over about 5 seconds.

First I suddenly realise that the 'hoover' is in fact just a fallen tree, at this point completely unaware of how disastrous this was. At this point I now feel like I should of been scared, but at the time I was simply too happy to notice it. We are now on a sort of path in the woods but there is no real transition onto it Alexander is in complete stasis, staring straight ahead at the side off the path of into the woods. I notice Then Alexander exclaims the terrifying thought:


The tone of his voice was very relaxed and casual.

Shroom lines is not a term I have never used in real life but in the dream I associated it with first the persisting visuals I get from an unknown source, potentially mushrooms. When he exclaims this is when I first start suspecting that something is wrong but to no real degree.

About a second later, BOOM! There is a huge white flash from behind us and a sickening sound, partially scary partially just weird/creepy. The dream goes on for about 1 more second instead of me waking up at the noise. During this second my sort of 'bad trip sense' kicks in and I am trying hard to calm myself down, suddenly realising I was probably on a huge dose of shrooms, but the sound and the flash were real.

I then woke up with a hard buzz throughout my body unlike anything I have ever experienced before along with the general buzz associated with being scared. The hard one felt like it was in every part of my body and filled every inch of me and felt a little similar to doing M-kat but a little off. I found the intensity of the buzz mildly entertaining.

Being my first nightmare in years I wanted to write it down. I have no clue how a completely normal dream went so ill-shaped, or how I was still awake for a second after the flash. I am actually glad I have this experience, plus I am out of bed 2 hours earlier than planned which is a big plus.

Not been up to that much. I was drunk in school sometime during the week, probably Tuesday off buckfast someone had left over from the Caley game. I drank enough to feel it, but being some-what responsible I stopped drinking there. I have tried to cut down on smoking due to the de-personalization I have been feeling. Friday night Me, Ethan and Alexander got 2 grams off Raymond but it looked like a lot more. We started smoking it that night quite late as Mum had friends round. It was interesting sitting at the dinner table with Richard and Margeret in quite deep intellectual conversation and Ethan and Alexander just smirking at what ever jokes they got from the conversation (not that many.) We smoked it in the other living room which was quite nice.

Woke up no problems, no-one in the house knew we had been smoking. After Richard and Margaret left we went up the hill to smoke some more we had rolled inside. Realising it was too windy we climbed a few minutes up the hill and went into the tree line. We smoke a joint there but it was quite wet in the tree's so I eventually convinced them both to come with me on blind trust that it would be better before we smoked the other joint. I had an image of these two huge tree's a few minutes walk away that I remembered as being very sheltered and dry. Upon getting there I was a little disappointed. They weren't quite as magical as I had remembered them to be, but it was dry even if we could feel the wind. We lit the other one and got super high. It was packed but it got us a lot higher than we expected to be. I didn't want to go inside this high so we stayed for a while, making quite a lot of noise and I attempted to climb the tree, doing a half decent job of it. Once up there I wanted down pretty quickly, which was when I discovered my 'tree gym'. It was a slightly bendy branch that could be used to train your muscles. Using it hurt a lot so realising it was probably pretty good for my arms I Kept doing it until my arms hurt too much. We then went down the hill and into my filthy garage. There was dust everywhere but it was better than outside and there were places to sit. We found 4 of my Dad's motorbikes down there, only one of them was functional but the rest were repairable. I wasn't really that interested as I had seen them before but Ethan was really into them and talked for a while about fixing and selling/using them, I didn't want to dampen his mood so I humoured him knowing nothing would ever come of the conversation.

We eventually went inside where I just fell asleep in my room, wasn't sure where Ethan and Alexander were, probably in the living room. Birget getting there to pick us up woke me, really tired I quickly grabbed 10 pounds I had borrowed off Alexander for buckfast and shoved my monitor and TV in her car as my mother broke my laptop screen a while ago in an argument.

Sitting in the car was pretty awkward. It was just dead silence. Birgit who usually talks a lot said close to nothing for the whole journey. I sensed something was wrong, but she didn't know Alexander did anything so it was always dodgy ground. We got dropped off at Ethans and that was the end of that part.

When we got there everything was normal, Everyone was just eating dinner but we all got called out apart from Ethan. We later found out that his parents were asking him about smoking weed, nothing to worry about really. Peter and Annelise were there for a few hours before they headed off to get smoke then go bad to Annelises's Dad's flat. I fell asleep on Ethans bed at around 7, when I woke up he had fixed some surround speakers and was going to place them around his room. He had also got me a sleeping bag and a mattress which was great. I climbed into that and went back to sleep. At some point Connor phoned asking where Peter and Annelise were and if we wanted to come out. We couldn't because of Ethan's parents. We had set an alarm for around 5 so we could go to Tesco before his dad woke up and spend the tenner on food, but the alarm didn't go off. We were woken at around 5 anyway by Ethan's cat scratching stuff but of course we were too tired to go so went back to sleep. I woke up at around 11 and lounged around for the rest of the day apart from going to Tesco to spend the tenner.


Peter and Annelise came back around 4. We smoked a joint with them but me and Ethan had to smoke from inside his room while they passed it too us out the window.

A little high, but of course better we waited around. Just as my mother came to pick me up Alisssa and Kailey phoned saying they were in a close park fucking around and they went out to meet them. I instantly fell into a huge fight with my Mother, which still rages on the next day. I need to get out of this house. Will post this on blue light later as she took the internet cable to work with her. Nice. Wasn't at school today for some reason, I just couldn't be bothered today, not that I have ever done this before. I have got some revision done though so its not all bad... Very tired, Mum should be home soon with the cable.

Still fantasizing about psychedelics, on the 1st Jack gets paid, me and Alexander are hopefully ordering it with his card, getting 20x 30mg AMT capsules, cant wait. I have the money sitting here I my room, resisting spending it very well.

We are our own map,
We possess the key to the gate,
The gate that can open to a number of gardens,
We can walk and be presented with the same features,
Yet have many a different perception,
And this perception can be a doorway into a different experience.
We are the deciders as to how our journey is experienced,
Whether that be joyful, full of laughter or plain ugly, black, bleak, full of stormy clouds

To be continued later.....