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I made a little game called Name That Drug! Watch the video and see if you can guess the name of he drug before it scrolls across the screen. It's pretty easy so you shouldn't have a hard time guessing most of them. Have fun and good luck!

I mainly wrote this so that people would realize this is not a recreational drug (I thought this was obvious till recently). For those who didn't read part 1 and 2...who am I kidding no one is reading this. But one and two are just about me going to the doctor and telling him I stopped my meds because they were too sedating. I am bipolar and most meds for bipolar are too sedating Seroquel being one. It's classified as a major tranquilizer. Xanax is considered a minor tranquilizer. This doesn't at all mean the two have comparable effects!!! It does mean that Seroquel is a lot stronger though.

Was only taking 75-100 a night and I was supposed to be taking 150. I had to smoke tons of weed just to get out of bed I felt so bad. Lately I'm cutting the pills down to 25mg pieces (very hard to do even after years of psych meds). The doctor has greatly underestimated the power this medication has. Despite me explaining to him that I am sensitive he has bumped me back up to 200. 25mg works just fine and I shouldn't have to go behind my doctors back and try and dry cut a 200 mg pill.

Seroquel is an emotional straight-jacket. Under its grip I never got too sad, too happy, or too anxious. But I just feel like shit all the time and there's no more elegant way to put that. I think "may cause you to feel like shit" should be on the label. When your on Seroquel its exactly like being on drugs except without any euphoria, hallucinations, or tangible benefits.

The only tangible benefit is a total escape from your mind. Your body runs the show and your mind folllows two steps behind. You do things without even processing them because you can barely process anything. I work as a cook and I couldn't remember what I had made because I was on a poor version of auto pilot. Ridiculous short-term memory loss. I had to stop to keep my job.

I got slight progress with the doc. The doctor wants me to try Celexa instead of Remeron to help with my anxiety. Despite the fact that anti-depressants easily cause mania in bipolar people and that I have reacted poorly to at least 20 AD's. I haven't added up the number as of yet.

But all is not lost. I like this doctor and I think I am starting to establish a good relationship with him. I'm finally willing to sit through whatever adjustments need to be made and do my best to be a good patient.

Got 18 months clean on sunday :]

Everyday since December has been a struggle for me having to deal with this symptom. I've been working so hard to ignore it. I've been working so much on being a better person, but it feels like I'm on my breaking point again. This rage that I had been trying so hard to contain is crying out, crying and telling me to release her. She wants to make me feel better and help me. Do I let her come out? Do I let her control me and my emotions? Do I want to lose myself again?

I have heard it said that people brought flowers to their dead relatives when they passed to cover the smell of the decaying body.

I submit there are not enough flowers in the world to cover the smell of one rotting human being.

I posit that the flowers represent the continuation of the next generation. As a flower dies back, it may spread seeds that will continue the life of that family of flower. Flowers can also be perennial, so that it died into the ground during winter to bloom again the next year.

to be continued

Soon, I will be a memory for you all (probably bad ones, like my hairy penis burned in your brain).

I think since I realize that my computer forum addiction is bad for my life, and I need to stop. I can't be responsible so I need to completely abstain.

My 5000th post will be my last, maybe I will get a life, maybe I will be dead in a ditch, but I won't be hunched over my laptop at 1AM trolling n00bs.

It's been a blast, thanks for the lolz.

- kaywholed

I wonder where she went? Did I have anything to do with it?

I met her online, on okcupid, and we clicked some way. She liked me, by rating me highly. I waited a day to do the same with her because I'm not big on the stars rating system or rating people at all.

We connected on some level, spiritually. I can't describe here. I tried in a thread in SLR, and ended up writing a lot that many didn't read- That I may not have either.

But I hesitated. I had feelings arise, that I held down. She attempted to communicate with me creatively. I still held back direct communication with her.

After a day of this hesitation, she disappeared. She disabled her profile. Days layer I found her blog. Now a week later, she hasn't posted any more, after pretty consistently posting for some time before.

Her last post was likely about me, the day or within the day that she disabled her account. It could have been, at least (about me).

I asked her why she thinks guys run away, mirroring a question she had. She ran away. But I did, from feelings.

Waother side of the road....I recognize him as a crackhead right away, just by the walk ,and the closer lking on the street, I have no idea what to expect....It's not exactly an open air drug spot anymore, but it's definitely there...If I make the wrong decision, I could get robbed....could get shot trying to keep my money...not a situation I can really test what's being sold. It's grab and go!

The crack will definitely be easier than the dope, and at this point that's what I'm looking for...A little bag of rock and a half g of dope...Find a nice spot to do a shot and then worry about getting the rest of the coke and dope later....

I walk down the street. A guy walking quick and weird is coming my way towards me on the he gets the more apparent it becomes that he's not to be trusted. I can see him take something out of his pocket and look down into his hand, then he quickly puts his hand back into his pocket and continues to stride with a purpose! He does this like, three times in a row!....A nervous tic of some sort?

A lot of inner-city drug addicts walk like they're nursing serious physical injuries....like their knees and back are fucked up and they're no longer capable of smooth, inconspicuous motion, like the drugs have literally "kicked their ass"!.....I know a lot of people who have done a lot of drugs, but you never seem to encounter this phenomenon outside the hood-rats/homeless population...

As he comes into focus I can see that he's wearing a polo shirt, jean shorts, dirty reeboks and white tube socks with those '80s era stripes. He looks severely dehydrated in the face, unconsciously moving his lips in exotic expression, he walks quickly toward me, glances over his shoulder and turns and looks rights at me, "Hey whatchyou lookin for, I got it! I got it"....I say, "Whatta you got, hard?".....
"Yeah baby, that's what I just told you, right here! Let's go!"....
As he's talking he spits four bagged up rocks into his hand and shows me and then immediately puts them back in his mouth and keeps walking right past me...
"C'mon C'mon"...
I follow him back the way I came heading back to the main road...He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few dollars in quarters and assorted other change and immediately puts it back in his pocket...again!

"I'm goin to get a drink right now, whatchyou needed?", he says to me as we walk up the street....I say, "You do 2 for 30?"...He says,
"Nah, I need straight 20...20, you'll see...when you hit that, you'll be back at me!....You seen where I was walkin? There's a big brown house right there on the left, I'm on the 4th floor in D....Come see me for real!".....
Even though I know it's not worth 20, it's enough for my shot, so I hand him the 20 and boom! I got half of what I need for the time being.

I walk back up the street away from the main road, the way I was originally walking....A few menacing cars rattling with bass and tinted windows that half-reveal eyes sizing me up drive past....
A blond girl who actually looks halfway decent at first glance is sitting on stoop on the opposite side of the road....
Second glance reveals that she has a black eye and her face is kinda sucked up....
Third glance reveals she's pregnant....
As I keep walking I hear the distinctive beat of Latino rap music, I think it's called "Reggae-ton" or something like that....
The basic beat is always the same....
I like American hip-hop better...I get closer to the sound of the music and then I reach the driveway where it's coming from....There's three Hispanic kids, in their late teens, early twenties....They're working on big 7 series BMW....they have it jacked up and the hoods popped....

I know right away they have dope!....They're wearing clean, new clothes and sneakers...they have gold around their necks, diamond earrings...tattoos, definitely affiliated with some gang, which one I have no clue, don't care either.....
Of all the gangsters I've bought drugs from over the years, 80% of the time I couldn't tell you which gang they're even in, they almost never come out and even mention it....
Gets to the point sometimes, they'll invite you in the house when they're drunk, stacks of money, big pile of powder and a gun on the table...little kids playing in the next room.
I just act like it's perfectly normal at this point...
But when you hear of people getting shot in the hood, it's usually these exact types either getting shot or doing the shooting....
They go out on a Friday, bump into some other gangster, beef starts and someone ends up dead within a couple of weeks....
Once everyone knows about the beef, neither side can back down...
It sucks...It's pointless....

Anyway, I know these guys have what I need, but approaching them is a delicate thing...
They're clearly already making money, and getting them to take a chance and deal to a total stranger isn't gonna be easy...
Most dealers and customers start off as complete strangers, but it's usually through an introduction that they meet, but IMO, you're just as likely to get set up through an intro as you are through meeting someone on the street....
I slow down, look over at them and give them "the nod".......
The one kid that sees me is friendly enough...He nods back smiles and says "Hey what's up dude?"...but then he looks away and keeps talking to the other kids working on the Bimmer....
I was hoping that maybe they'd put 2 and 2 together, figure out that I wanted dope and try to sell me some! I gave the universal nod....they definitely knew what I was up to, but were just playing it like I was just walking, in a good mood and saying "hi" to whoever I encountered on THIS street! ha...

is

Sometime in summer 2011, I was frantically getting my money together to go buy my daily heroin and cocaine fix....It was a hot summer day, but I was shivering from the light breeze combined with my own sweat made cold by the dope sickness beginning to kick in...I took a bus into the city and walked into the heart of one of the worst parts of town that was centrally located between where I needed to meet my two dealers.

I had crashed my car some 5 months earlier, and mine and my girlfriend's habit dictated that, besides rent, every cent we cam across went to drugs....I found it nearly impossible to get high from heroin at that point...No matter how much I did, I never really actually felt high, that's one of the reasons I started on speedballs. Heroin just ceased being all that pleasurable, even if I was near death, I just never really felt that intense "glow"...Cocaine didn't help at all, it made me feel the heroin even less for the most part...

It was a very depressing situation, but I didn't feel depressed about my life at all really...I didn't really have much feeling for anything or anyone...I went to work everyday...well, went to work MOST days, and from the second I got out at 330 until the moment I lost consciousness lying on my back with my clothes and the light on, I was completely consumed with getting as high as humanly possible...

It was the end of a vicious, self-destructive run that could have and probably SHOULD have ended much worse than it did....It was a juggling act of deceit, money, over-consumption and avoiding arrest, every day...The combinations were getting dangerous. I was using about 2 1/2 grams of H and a gram of cocaine IV'd every day...On top of that, I was getting 180 1mg Xanax and 120 30mg Adderalls every month from a girl I copped dope for. I managed the massive heroin habit for 3 years, actually was able to somewhat handle it. It wasn't much of a life, but the rent got paid and I kept us from getting sick, kept us high....

I never cleaned my apartment, my kitchen was host to the biggest colony of fruit flies on the East Coast. They swarmed like cloud, I hated it them so much, but I felt utterly helpless to do anything about it, felt overwhelmed by my apartment, like even it hated me for neglecting my relationship with it. It was a nice place, at first. One of us nearly burned it down every month! Gas stoves and junkies don't mix....
I had 3 empty gallon jugs of Arizona Ice-tea filled with used rigs...Sheets over all the windows...All the musical gear that I hadn't sold yet strewn about as a reminder of a past life I just threw away to chase what must have been more important to me: blocking out every last thing inside me bearing any resemblance to a real emotion...I've had bad things happen to me in my life, but definitely nothing so bad that I shouldn't be able to get over it and carry on as a real human being...And we wanted ourselves back so badly...
we'd talk about it every night, how we were "...gonna do something about this! We can't go on like this anymore!" After saying that for a year, it gets harder and harder to believe yourself. After 2 years, we both knew it was hopeless, the only thing that was gonna get us of heroin was a full-blown disaster, a tragedy of some sort. And most tragedies involve death, extreme near-death illness or prison....Don't really know what I'd choose out of those three, I guess it depends on how much prison time is involved.

I made it a point to not look in mirrors, which is hard when you're in the bathroom all the time....I still caught glimpses of myself out of the corner of my eye, I definitely wasn't the same guy that just had to smile and say hi to get most girls' attention...Nobody naturally looks like I looked, well I guess if you were severely malnourished and sleep-deprived....

I worked a job that could be very physically demanding, and yet, I hardly ate anything....I'm 5'11 and was weighing around 130 lbs...It's amazing to see what the body can endure and it's amazing how you can bounce back, but actually witnessing these phenomena in yourself should be something that only occurs if you end up held in a third world prison or lost in the wilderness...Actually being responsible for putting yourself in that state is unforgiveable...a sin, if there is such a thing...

If you don't give your body enough fat and protein and it just starts feeding off itself...the times I did look in the mirror it was alarming...I've always been a vain person, and sadly, despite the drugs killing my relationships with my family and friends, and killing my love for life, the way the drugs were affecting my appearance was the one thing I actually regretted most of the time....

Anyway, July 2011 I take a bus into the city and walk to an area of old brick warehouse buildings and shitty tenements with mostly asphalt yards...Half of them are uninhabited and boarded up. I have 400 dollars in my pocket, 300 is mine, the other hundred is someone else's money...Fixing my car would have paid for itself, made being a junkie so much easier....Like everything else in my life, the car was pretty acceptable in the beginning, but after rear-ending a few people nodded out at stop lights, and then eventually almost killing me and my girlfriend while arguing about spending 100 dollars of the rent money on dope while sick, things got steadily worse for awhile, and then just eventually completely dropped off the radar...

I'm starting to get sick, I'm on foot and I'm looking to buy 4 grams of heroin and however much coke I can get with what's leftover...I have a bunch of people I can call for dope, but only one guy that has decent powder coke...I'm a sitting duck out there though! If I end up picking up the heroin but having to wait for the coke, I'm gonna be stuck walking around with enough heroin to send to me to prison...I'm praying everyone answers their phone and the whole thing goes quickly...

I'm close to where I need to be and I call the guy I know with the best dope...He tells me he'll be around in 45 minutes...
Shit! Who knows how long 45 minutes will actually turn out to be!

I call the guy with the coke, reasoning that in the time it takes to do that deal, the guy with the good dope will be ready to serve me by the time I'm finished...and.... the coke guy goes straight to voicemail...
Fuck!

I wait around for 20 minutes or so in the heat....Pawn shops, fried chicken joints, some shady discount grocer that's like the twilight zone to walk around inside, an ongoing flea market inside a warehouse...I opt to go inside the flea market...It's hot inside, no AC...There's shitty toys, knife displays, used video games, weird bead things to hang from your door that provide no privacy....After 20 minutes of that I decide to go with Plan B...I'm getting progressively sicker and I'm not about to wait around for 2 hours in my current condition...

I take about a ten minute walk to Bowdoin street...At the time, I don't know anyone particular on that street, but it's just one of those streets....There's not a nice house on the whole street....There's always people walking around, kids on bikes...furniture out on the curbside...obvious drug activity...not the worst street, but not the best...

On the way, I stop at a little store and buy the smallest bottle I can find of Heinz distilled vinegar...

just cloudy...

I could probably find someone else, and I was gonna do just that...There were plenty of other people out on this street that I could have hit up, but instead of trying to find someone else, after I got about 100 ft up the road, I turned around and went back to the driveway with the Bimmer kids...
It takes balls to do this, because you never know how people are gonna react when you point blank ask them for drugs like I was about to do...
I walked right up the driveway to where they were and I was like, "Hey man, what's up...I called my friend I was supposed to meet him earlier, and now, he's not pickin up his phone, can you guys help me out?"...
At first, the one kid, the only one that was talking to me so far says...."Naaa papi, I don't know what you mean, but I don't do that....I don't know you".....
I'm like "No, I'm sorry man...I'm not tryin to scare you...I know you don't know me..."....Just then, one of the other kids workin under the car comes out and stands next to the other kid and looks at me, "Whatchou needed?"....
"Dope...."
He looks at the other kid, "How much?"....
"I want a half, but if it's good I'll take more".....
"You're not a cop?"....
"No man!"....
It's 90 degrees out and I'm wearing a dark blue hoodie and shorts, I pull up my sleeve and show him the marks on my right arm. He says, "Man! Okay...follow me".....
We walk behind the house out of view of the street, and he runs in the house...He comes out puts a half gram of some beige powder in my hand and I give him the money.
"You gotta phone? take my number", he says...
I take his number and call his phone so he knows who I am....
Now I have my dope.....
As I'm walking away he says, "Call me, you're gonna like that! Oh, you do coke too? I got that powder ..."
Bingo!! I tell him "Yeah, I'm gonna go try this and if it's straight I'll come right back for another few whole Gs"...

At this point, I'm fuckin happy as shit! I might have just scored a decent connect for dope and powder!

But first things first, I gotta find a spot to bang this speedball....I gotta fucking bottle of vinegar in my pocket to break down the crack, a half gram of dope and a 20 piece of rock in my mouth, a new bottle of water, a new rig and a q-tip and I'm ready to go! I walk further into this neighborhood and I see a boarded up house with a chain-link fence around it...The yard is completely over-grown...the grass is two feet tall. It's the perfect cover!

I'm able to slip under the fence and go to the back of the house where the stairs to the basement are...Between my location behind the house and the tall grass, I can take my time...
Nobody's gonna see me back there! It's always sneaking in and out of the place you hide to do the shot that's the riskiest part! If a cop happens to drive by when you're coming in or out, you're getting searched! This is why I always keep the drugs in my mouth...It's saved me countless time from going to jail!...The crack I had in my mouth then was in some random crackheads mouth not even a half hour earlier, but fuck it, I guess...It's not like I was sharing needles or fucking the dude!

I throw the crack in the cap first...I throw 30 units of vinegar on it and mash it up really fine....It completely dissolves and turns clear, with no visible particles at all, which for IV crack, is always a plus! I take the half gram of dope and dump it in the cap I just rinsed with water...I squirt the 30 units of coke solution on top and then add another thirty of water. I mix up the whole thing and it turns a nice Iced tea color, no insoluble cut in the dope either!...I use good size filters for both draws, I suck up the 60 into the syringe, find a vein and bam!

The dope is good! Despite my tolerance I get a strong rush from it and just as it's starting to hit me good I feel the coke come on! My heart skips a beat and I feel my blood pressure rise and tingle starting in my genitals and rising up and radiating out of my chest! I feel a slight paranoia and tweakiness at first, but the dope takes the edge right off....For just throwing two pretty random amounts of each together, it was a good speedball!

I'm feeling as happy as a dope fiend loser could feel at that moment...I just found a new connection who has dope that's even better than my main guy, and he has powder! No more need to run around today, just call that guy back, walk two blocks over, and I'm good!

I call the guy up and order 3 grams of dope and a gram of powder....He tells me to come right over, and 10 minutes later I'm in business! Now I'm nervous though, because I have all that shit on me and a long walk out of an area that I could get searched at any moment! I'll swallow the 4 grams if I have to....I have enough of a tolerance to handle 3 grams of oral heroin, but I'm more nervous about the gram of coke...Of course, I've never had one burst open on me...Holes in the bag, but never break open..

About 3 minutes after I walk away, the girl who gave me 100 dollars to buy dope for her calls...she's out of work and wants to know where I am...Perfect timing! I go into the hood burger king and order a coke and fries and she picks me up 15 minutes later....gone!

I get back home, get my girlfriend well and shoot the gram of coke....I have enough dope that I don't freak out too too bad...but when I'm lying in bed nodding a few hours later, I reach down and feel something on my calf, two little strange bumps! I pull up my pant-leg and there's two tiny little ticks attached to my leg....The little kind, the ones you don't wanna have...deer ticks!

Fuck, just my luck!! I'm the only person in history who's gonna contract Lyme disease from shooting up in the ghetto!

Stupidly, I ripped the ticks off, which causes them to release their juices into you....But hey, maybe these ticks don't have lyme disease...It killed my high

I read about it online...read about the "bulls eye" and sure enough, four days later...the two distinctive bulls eyes show up on my leg! God Dammit!

I get tested a few weeks later and I have fucking Lyme disease, but thankfully, I caught it early and can hopefully knock it out....Last I checked, it's still gone, thank God....

but lately, I can't get the thoughts through my brain clearly, and that's what people who have Lyme disease that's progressed describe...man, I don't feel like having blood drawn to check again, but I really should....Lyme disease is pretty common, particularly in the Northeast, and it sucks if it progresses...

Just felt like writing...trying to organize my thoughts....It used to flow so clear, now my brain

First of all, I have nobody to blame but myself because I was warned that this chick was bad news but I had heard that about other girls in the past and found it was usually just based off rumors and misinformation. But in order to keep this simple lets just call her Q.

Now I had known who Q was before we started dating, and I knew that she was a very polarizing figure. Some people found her to be a problem wherever she went, whereas others considered her a true friend who didnt judge other people and simply was misunderstood. One of my other friends (we'll call him X) actually had a pretty big falling out with Q after his family made it clear they did not want him seeing her anymore, and it was through this friend I originally met her actually. I'll start out the day that happened.

I got a text at about 6pm asking me if I wanted to go meetup with some people and smoke some weed. Me being a pothead agreed rather quickly, and after picking up X we arrived at the house. It was a pretty beat down place if I had to be honest, although it wasn't falling apart either. Upon entering the house we were greeted by someone X knew (let's call him T) and he introduced me and we all shot the shit for a few minutes until X said "so are they almost here or what?". To which T affirmed that whoever "they" entailed, were indeed almost at the house.

So we go into his TV room and get ourselves situated and begin the process of rolling a blunt. With something to keep my mind occupied, the minutes flew by and the next thing I know the doorbell is ringing. T got up and opened the door and two people entered through the doorway. One was a guy I had never met before (last letter, let's call him G), and the other person was Q. I remember as they entered into the TV room I couldn't help but eyeball Q, she had a very nice bronzish skin tone and eyes that could stare into your soul. When she saw that I had a pile of weed broken up on the table, she immediately gravitated towards where I was sitting and introduced herself. I wasn't sure if she was really interested in me or just wanted to smoke but surprisingly G didnt seem to pay any attention as he was busy having a conversation with X the whole time.

So we all smoke a little bit, and proceed to watch the Phillies play the Mets on TV. Q had been talking to me the whole time basically and I couldn't help but feel like she didnt really enjoy hanging out with G at all. She would laugh at all my stupid jokes and then apologize for being so giddy when she smokes. I said it was no problem, and that she had a very sexy laugh (it made sense at the time, smokers will feel me). When I said that I could almost feel the couch getting wet, but I did not want to create any problems with G by hitting on her any further.

But then X tapped me on the shoulder and said he would be right back, and that he was going to run to get cigs with G. I was pretty high still, and part of me thought it was weird for him to do that but the other part of me just thought of my chance to really spit some game at Q, so I just kind of nodded and said "ok". So they both leave and I'm now sitting in a room with T and Q, and we had all just met each other really so it was kind of awkward. I felt like T realized this as he got up and decreed he had to go give his girlfriend a call or she would get pissed at him. So he goes into the other room and now its just me and Q left. I remember thinking about all the bad things I had heard about her, but dismissing them as hearsay after being around her for just that little bit of time. I asked her if she would ever make her boyfriend call her every night, to which she replied she did not have a boyfriend. I asked her about G and she said he was just someone she hung out with because he had a car and she could meet other people. I laughed after she said this, because it confirmed what I had been thinking the whole time. At that point she said "you have a pretty sexy laugh yourself", and I knew for sure I was going to hook up with this chick. Part of me wanted to take it slow, and wait until I wasnt stoned before making this decision, but her eyes were just fixed on mine and it was like I couldn't say no even if I had a gun to my head. She was just fascinating to me, how someone so notorious could be so kind and gentle. So I said fuck it, I am only going to be 18 once I might as well go for it, and I started to lean towards her. Before I could even get halfway there she more or less grabbed my head and we kissed for several minutes. At some point I remembered T would be returning to the room soon, so I pulled back and told her we should continue this at some other time, so as to not be disrespectful to T. We both exchanged numbers and made plans to text each other the next day. That night ended with X and G returning and everyone leaving after another blunt was rolled and smoked. I didnt say anything about Q to X because I didnt know how he would react, and some things are just better left unsaid.

So the next day I texted Q asking if she wanted to hang out and she replied back that she could in a half hour. I felt good because that gave me time to get a shower and make sure I was looking good. So 30 minutes go by and then 45 minutes and I decide to call her. She answers and says that she got caught in some traffic and would definitely be able to hang out in another half hour. I had no choice but to accept her explanation and finally, an hour later, she called me and told me to pick her up at her house. I picked her up and we went to a local shopping mall because she said she wanted to look at some earrings she was going to ask her Dad for her birthday. After we pulled into a parking spot, she put her hands around my head and we made out again for several minutes. I realized this was the first time we had been alone together since last night, and she couldn't do it when I was driving for obvious reasons but I was still somewhat taken aback that this girl was willing to hook up with a guy she had just met last night in a mall parking lot. Either way, it felt really damn good and left me feeling pretty happy as we entered the mall. I don't even remember what stores we went to inside really, it was more about just walking around together and getting to know each other better.

Eventually, she said she felt hungry and I put on my pimp hat and offered to buy her meal. She happily accepted and squeezed my hand to let me know she would not forget it, and her touch still made me melt at that point. I asked where she wanted to eat at, pointing out the food court had several large food chains to pick from, but she said she really wanted to go to a sit-down restaurant. I felt somewhat confused, since there were so many other choices to pick, but I wanted to keep up my catering to her and agreed to take her to TGI Fridays but explained I really didnt have that much money to spend on a large meal. I wound up spending 30 out of the 50 dollars I had, which meant I would only be able to buy one gram of weed later that night. I would never have used to let a girl persuade me to spend money on her like that before, but something about Q was different. I kept thinking back to how I felt entering the mall, and how I felt at T's house the other night, and how weed would never make me feel like that anyway. When I was with her I didnt even really think about weed, although it would still be nice to have. So that's how I rationalized it in my head, and Q said she would return the favor when we next hung out.

So for the next couple months we had a semi-boyfriend/girlfriend relationship going on, with me usually picking her up and smoking weed before going shopping somewhere. She was always making sure to keep me happy though, and it made me feel like the things I was buying her were somehow validated because of that. We had sex for the first time together about a week after meeting each other and I remember thinking in my head I was truly glad I met her. She was always there to cheer me up on a bad day, or turn a boring night into one of excitement and relaxation. And all I had to do was buy her some stuff every now and then which I figured all girlfriends would ask their boyfriends to do. It was definitely a good time in my life, and I still wish I could experience those months one more time.

But like any relationship, things started to become more difficult as we got to know each other better. I realized she was always a hassle to get a hold of when you needed her for something but the second she needed you for something it was expected for you to drop everything and immediately help her. Also, I soon decided I needed to remove myself from seeing her everyday because it was starting to become almost a part-time job. The sex was great in the beginning but after a while it just seemed like she didnt care anymore. Not that it was bad, it just wasnt the same. Plus, the neighborhood she lived in was kind of trashy, so I didnt really go over her house very often, except to pick her up really. She didnt really bring anything to the table besides giving me physical pleasure either, she was pretty unintelligent, had bad manners, dressed somewhat questionable, and I didnt even tell my parents about her because I knew they would not like her. I just told them I was always going over one of my friend's houses when I was really going to hang out with her.

*continued in comments*

its indescribable but in a way it feels good to be recovering from internal injuries again. more seriously, it feels good to have decided the right path for myself, and to have disciplined myself to get back into the same level of health and wellness I was at while studying fighting a few years ago. having spent a week meditating on the return to this lifestyle, and nursing a healing torso, i havent felt this calm or at peace with myself and the world around me since i can really remember. the deep knowing of myself that is not unlike the weeks after a heavy psychedelic experience is a returning reward, and everything that seemed to be blocking my progress in life seems to trivial, far, and nearly irrelevant now.

its unheavenly hot here. office buildings' air conditioners cant even keep up with it, and work has become the dulldrums, my boss is even tossing around youtube videos more than working when the conditions are like this. the whiskey comes out at 3pm, though I usually dont partake, its just a symbol of our city's inability to adapt to the humidity of peak summer. the other day i went outside to do my daily round of knuckle pushups on my favorite patch of gravel laden sidewalk, and i barely got through half my set before i noticed something felt very wrong inside. in the last 5 years ive conditioned my hands to a degree that the (delusional) security state we live in is an endless source of irony, and i diddnt even realize for at least an hour afterward that I literally cooked my skin on that sidewalk it was so hot. my knuckles are covered in blisters and havent felt like this in many years, perhaps I have found a downside to my desensitization. naturally some hipster artist nearby was photographing (re: instagraming) an egg frying on a sidewalk.

the heat is wonderful for detox though. I spent a week jogging a mile in a heavy wool uniform to condition my body a bit further, and the blanket of humidity just sucked all the deep nasties right out of the recesses of my body. my body felt 5 years younger after a few days. my winter rut and binging on bullshit late at night really did a toll on me at my age, but im blazing right on back to my former state. my mind focuses more towards the endless cultivation of chi. i aim to have these hands pulling some emperor fuckin palpatine shit when im 40 years old, my will alone able to emit electro magnetic energy enough to command my own armies of minions, or at least power my personal server farm.

i have to be thankful everyday for the lovers i have close to me this summer. theyve provided me with the primary food i needed to nourish my soul back to a much more logical and serene place, and i am able again to resume my stoical observation of this universe. the unity of our currents had led to a wave making vibe, and i think we all may be in it for the long haul. our tribe is such a warm sanctuary, that i wonder if my plans to leave this city within a decade will change. im burning to live in the 4 corners of the world and everywhere else, but my love for some people here may prevent me from straying too far. we looked over a map of brooklyn this evening, with the emergency evacuation zones during hurricaine sandy active, and thought to ourselves that it would resemble the landmass within a few decades. at least were at the highest ground! but not sure if we can tolerate our brooklyn shaped like a flaccid penis.

for the things we do to our earth, we may never be forgiven . each day is a new opportunity to symbolize on which side of the argument we stand.

life simply doesnt feel meaningful without the arduous search for a higher plane of awareness.

oss

About every 10 years I move, like MOVE move...across the state or the country. When I was 11 I moved from Colorado to Wisconsin and I moved from a small town in North Central Wisconsin to Madison when I was 22. I guess I'm going with the pattern by moving a week from today to Massachusetts at age 32.

It hasn't quite hit me yet. I'm guessing it might sometime when I'm on the long drive there. It's a nightmare to think of all the things I still have to do to prepare for this move. I feel so unprepared.

I'm going to miss it here, but I'm looking forward to a fresh start. Hopefully I can actually get out of my shell a little bit and make some new friends.

I'm invited to two weddings in the next three months. In light of what I recently put myself through that's a little funny. Someday maybe someone will be writing blog posts about my wedding.

The first one is my aunt's. She's been with the same guy for THIRTY years. They are getting married in Larchmont, NY in September.

The second one is my friend's from Maryland. I'm actually a groomsman for that particular event. Which is interesting.

Last time I saw this guy, I was visiting Maryland for 5 days. I hadn't seen him in over a year. He picked me up to hang out, explained he had to go to Wal-Mart to buy a garbage can, and then got a phone call from his then-girlfriend while we were there. She started reaming him out about something, and he dropped me off back at my mom's place to go deal with it.

That was like four years ago. I barely speak to him, ever.

This is awfully cynical of me, but I think maybe the only reason I'm invited is so that I can be there to match the number of bride's maids that his fiance is planning on having.

This is the first girl the guy has ever been with.

Sigh.

I'll be more interested in visiting the area. I'm gonna take my film rangefinder and shoot the fuck out the town... see a couple friends I truly miss, and chirp out.

My aunt's wedding will be in September and that is gonna be tough for other reasons. I haven't really seen any of my extended family in about 8 or 9 years. I pissed a lot of people off by being a shitty son to my mom. I'll be making a lot of amends... but I know that if it all works out and I get to go, it will be a good experience.

I want anyone who is reading this to be aware that I fully acknowledge how lame and pathetic this is going to sound. If someone is being honest with me they will tell me what a jerk I've been, and they'll be right. Around Christmas I managed to get into a friends with benefits situation. It's become a tremendous problem for me; I am also in a real committed relationship and it is very serious. I swore I would never cheat and I cheated. For like eight months.

It's created so much inner conflict for me I don't even know where to begin. I know... poor me, right? Poor asshole cheater. Poor. Selfish. Fucking. Asshole. I don't want pity here. That's not why I'm writing this... I guess I'm hoping if I put it out there maybe it will go away. Like, I've been bottling this stuff and not letting it out... it has been driving me crazy. Really crazy.

For starters, I love the woman I am with. It absolutely has nothing to do with her and everything to do with my faults as a sick human being. Thanks (sarcastic thanks?) to the work I've done in AA, I can see that the whole thing is because of all this fear I have... and so much selfishness. The sex itself is some combination of the compulsions that did not die with my addictions and what it means to be human I suppose... but that doesn't matter.

I have this shitty liar inside me that says I need to fuck every single woman that I find attractive. It will never get enough sex the same way I could never get enough heroin. It sounds nuts to relate the two but that's how it feels. Like, chemical castration has become increasingly appealing. I wish I was joking. This thing, it tells me that I need people to be attracted to me--I need to be wanted, desired, accepted. I'm afraid that I'm not wanted, not desired, not accepted. I lie to myself: I think if people don't react to me a certain way then I'm not worthwhile. All this dishonesty, fear, and selfishness manifest in my physical actions. I have done something I swore my whole life I'd never do.

Finally, thank God, the girl I've been cheating with has "broken up" with me. I wish that would neatly solve this problem. It won't, obviously. I might not fuck anyone else for a while but the "voice" is still there... I still certainly have the compulsion to repeat the process all over again. I might not do any more damage to her, but unfortunately that won't stop me from damaging myself or my "real" significant other. I managed to delete her number but I will definitely be seeing her again and it will be difficult to resist giving her the looks and the flirtation.

I used to see someone like that Weiner dude and think how he is so full of shit. I thought sex addiction was fucking nonsense. Now, I'm not so sure. It's tough... it's such a blurry line. But the truth is, it doesn't matter. Even if it is a real thing it could never serve as an excuse.

If I can't stay faithful should I even remain in this relationship? I guess I know the answer to that. So what's the definition of faithful? What is a realistic ideal for me to set for myself?

Ideally, I...

I don't want to look at porn.
I don't want to think about fucking my neighbor.
I don't want to flirt with anyone else.
I don't want to be with anyone else.

Before I started cheating I was trying not to masturbate, counting days like a newly sober person. I don't know if that's realistic at all... it is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and that is no exaggeration. The thinking thoughts part seems beyond what is actually possible to accomplish.

Still I want to strive for it.

Ideally, I want to be able to ask a beautiful woman how she is doing that day because I genuinely care. Not because I want the attention or the batting eyelashes or the reciprocation of interest. The motive behind the action is important, too.

I want to be the loving caring man who my real significant other deserves. I want to be putting her before myself. I want to be a man instead of a selfish fucking pig. God help me.

Can only fit four images per post. Here's the latest:

New piece









Planning to neaten it up a bit, get it on a t-shirt and maybe sell it. Maybe.

On Monday I have an appointment with a Suboxone doctor. Finally, I'll have my own prescription. I feel like having my own prescription will cut my anxiety levels way down. I didn't tell him I was prescribed benzos as well so I guess we'll see. He doesn't seem like the type to piss test... I hope not anyway... I'm already semi-maintained on Suboxone so he said he'd knock $50 bucks off the prescription. Holla. I am so anxious for Monday to come because tomorrow is pay day and I really don't want to spend that money on heroin... I don't think I will because I really don't have any other chance to get a Suboxone prescription. I feel like this is a step in the right direction...

note this is all second hand accounts as obviously I don't remember anything since I was a baby. This is not a sob story either, please don't feel bad for me because there are other kids who are faced with far worse and ultimately fatal conditions that never get a chance to grow up and be a cynical druggie who treats people like shit on the internet out of boredom. This is just simply me being an amateur psychologist and doing what I do best which is think to myself.

When I was born I actually had a heart defect where one of the valves was not functioning properly. I'm not a doctor, but all you need to know is some shit was fucked up, and they weren't exactly sure if I was even going to make it through the surgery, let alone back to my home.

I just can't help but wonder if maybe those events left a bit more of a mark than the scar on my chest.

For one thing, it is a widely held belief that the first few years of a child's life are by far the most influential in their development, and using that logic, you could surmise the first few weeks are especially important. As an infant, all you can do is trust your care to the people who are raising you and the hospital staff where you are born.

But if you are immediately removed from your own parents to be placed into surgical care, you lose that chance at feeling the unspoken bond of trust that all parents naturally form with their children at birth. And if the people who are supposed to be taking care of you need to cut open a hole in your chest within two days of entering the Earth, well you run out of people to trust pretty quickly. Of course, if I had known the situation I would have trusted the doctors, but we don't know anything as an infant besides physical senses.

To make a long and obvious ending short, the surgery was successful and after a month in an incubator I was finally released from the hospital and able to go home. Of course, as anyone who has had children will know, you are never too far removed from a hospital visit with a newborn, especially if there were any complications at birth. Not to mention the damage had probably already been done by that point.

"Why should I trust these people if they let me be put into that situation to begin with?"

is probably how an infant would rationalize the new world around it, if I had to guess (again, wasn't exactly keeping a diary at the time).

Now don't get me wrong, I had a perfectly fine childhood, and my parents were always there if I really needed help with something and I am honestly forever grateful for that. But at the same time, I just don't know if I ever quite got over that first month somewhere in the deep inner workings of my brain. They say first impressions are everything, and I'd say that includes our lives as a whole. If your first reactions are ones of discomfort and isolation, you are probably going to grow up looking at things negatively and avoiding interaction with other people whenever possible.

Not that I can't talk to people, I'm actually pretty damned good at putting up a front of friendliness, I just don't go out of my way to do it. And the sad part is this applied to my family as well, especially my brother. We are basically total opposites in a lot of ways but we do have some similarities in that we both think we are right about a lot of things and can be incredibly stubborn at times. And I'm gonna go ahead and confirm that statement by saying that, in actuality, he is not usually right about much at all. When your best talent is the art of bullshitting and deflecting blame for things, you generally don't have a sense of how people truly see you in life.

He is an eternal optimist, despite having a pretty slim selection of things to be optimistic about. I am an eternal pessimist despite not really having much to complain about. This leads to conflict naturally, but because of my pessimism I was actually pretty good at avoiding it. I knew when it was and when it was not going to be worth my time to disagree with him, and a lot of the time I simply said nothing to avoid having to get into an argument I knew neither of us would win due to the reasons I stated earlier.

He likes to talk to anyone who will listen, and I hate listening to people's problems when they are the own person's fault (see: all of his). So basically, unless I avoid him completely I get sucked into a trap of his myriad of complaints levied at anything and everything he finds offensive to him. And I do that as well to be honest, but I just keep it to myself in real life (maybe not so much in the lounge, sorry but you shouldn't have made it out to be such a dark place tbh, first impressions and shit).

But it's not like I hate my brother, I just don't really feel any emotions towards him. I wish him luck in whatever he chooses to do in life, but I just don't really want anything to do with whatever that may entail. And the more I think about it I kind of feel like that towards a lot of people, and I can't figure out why. I guess it all stems back to that trust issue, but you would think positive life experiences would help me get over that. And now im gonna sound arrogant here, but I actually had a lot of people who wanted to be my friend growing up and I just kind of... didnt extend the same level of friendliness. Not that I was rude, but very much avoided any invitations of furthering the process of getting to know each other.

And now that I think about it, that's a problem that is my own fault, and im doing exactly what my brother would do in writing it down for anyone who will read this. But the difference between me and him is I really don't need other people to keep myself occupied, whereas he cannot stand to be by himself.

But there's really not much else more to say about our relationship, it is pretty much one of saying "whats up" in the morning and "later" when we leave each other's company, so I won't go on about that.

At the end of the day, I know there is a lot of good people in this world, and I am certainly not very high on that list. But at the same time, there are a lot of bad people in this world too, and I would rather be able to avoid them at the cost of avoiding some good people as collateral damage rather than have to deal with bad people.

And the term "bad" is so subjective but to me it basically encompasses anyone who doesn't think similarly to myself, which I have found to be somewhat hard to find replicated. Mostly because nobody thinks the same so I am really just setting everyone else up for failure by holding them to an impossible standard that isn't even really a good standard to begin with.

So, again, I am causing my own problems here but I'm also figuring out the cause of these problems on my own and have already solved them by simply accepting the fact that I will probably always be a pessimist.

And some people might say that is a sad way to live but at the same time, life can be sad sometimes and when you are considering every negative outcome that may happen you are not phased when they actually do happen.

So I don't know what exactly to really do anymore besides to just keep on trucking and get my jollies out of saying "I told you so" to people and hearing the ever occurring "you were right about that".

a lot of times I think I would be better off if I was more like my brother since ignorance really is bliss. And the sad part is I think he wishes he could be more like me in a lot of ways too.

If we could swap out some genetic traits to each other you could probably build a great human being, but I'm way too much of a cynic to think anything is great, let alone something as innately flawed as human beings.

I just wish I could learn to accept people for their flaws, and trust that it is not being done purposely with the intent to negatively impact my life.

But like I said earlier, that thought is still deep in my brain somewhere

Who can you trust?

and as of right now, it's a pretty short list

I've decided I'd like to document some of my memorable sexual encounters of the past. The good, the bad and the ugly.

The first that pops into my head is the heinous encounter involving a guy I had been on a few dates with. We hadn't fucked yet but after a night out I invited him back to my house, where I lived with my mum. I was 19. When we got home I was keen to blaze some weed and asked him if he wanted to share a joint or whether he wanted me to roll him his own. He opted for his own, and when we finished getting stoned he went to the toilet. I was totally ripped, sitting on my bed waiting for him to get out but after 20min he was still in there. I knocked on the door and he mumbled that he'd be out soon but another 15min went by and no sign of him. I knocked again and he said he was coming out this time, so I started getting undressed and folding back the quilt ready for us to get in and potentially have sex.

All of a sudden I see him standing in my bedroom doorway looking totally delirious. He starts taking off his jeans but as he does, I see him collapse in slow motion, ploughing into the tv on his way done. The force of his fall sends the tv and cabinet crashing right through the wall, creating an enormous hole in the plaster which he is now stuck in. Half his body is now inside the wall. I'm so stoned, and I immediately trip out, as he is out cold and doesn't appear to be getting up anytime soon. The cunt is totally unconscious! Then.. I hear the dreaded sound of footsteps down the hallway. The door swings open. It's my fucking mother in her nightie, coming to investigate the loud crash and finding a guy passed out in a hole in the wall with his pants around his ankles, and me standing there like a useless stoned person.

Mum is furious and starts trying to wake him up. He finally stirs, then looks around and sees what has happened. Mum storms off leaving me with this pole-axed unit, and he tries to get up and start fixing everything, apologising to me, completely humiliated. But I have no sympathy; I am so turned off my this dude and his amateur weed tolerance and feel sick just looking at him and the giant clusterfuck in front of me. I tell him to get in bed and he falls straight asleep snoring, and I laid there awake all night wishing he wasn't all up in my bed.

In the morning he said he couldn't get a lift home for another few hours. Fuck that. He lived an hour away so I got in the car in my pyjamas, drove there in silence and despite more profuse apologising on the way, as soon as he stepped out the car, I sped off before he even had a chance to close the door. I never saw him again, but will never forget that demolition night for as long as I live.

So I used to work at a bookstore from 2007 to 2009. I quit in late 2009 in order to go back to school, which ended up being a failure. I've been in desperate need for a job, so I reapplied to that bookstore I used to work at and lo and behold, they hired me back! So I've been working for the past 2 weeks. A really good Bluelighter friend was kind enough to front me some Suboxone so I could keep the job, as I desperately needed the work. I am going to use my first check to get my own prescription for Suboxone.

For a really long time, I didn't want to admit that I couldn't completely quit opiates, but now I know that Opioid Replacement Therapy is the best solution for me at the moment...

So far, I feel like I've been doing okay. This position at the bookstore is completely different from my old position at the bookstore. If you want to guess, the bookstore I work for is named something similar to Narnes and Boble. When I was much younger and still in high school, it was kind of my dream job. I'm a nerd at heart and being around books all day makes my panties moist. (What?) So, yeah, even though it's stressful because I have to deal with the general public and my anxiety is through the roof. I'm also in a sales-oriented position which adds to the anxiety. But, hey, I've got my Klonopin if it gets too tough. Ha.

So today was weird. Well, technically yesterday now but I haven't slept in 24 hours...

While I was at work, I decided to text my dealer who will usually front me a bundle until I get cash. He texts me back saying that he has a job for me -- he wants me to bag up some bundles of dope for him because the chick who usually does it was being a bitch or something like that. I was also middling a deal for someone so I had to meet up with my dealer anyway. So it was like midnight when I left my apartment (I got home from work at 11:30pm) to go meet up with him. He picks me up in his car and we go to where he's staying in the city. Of course the motherfucker busts out some cocaine. You know, to help with bagging the heroin, right? 8( So yeah. I was feeling really fucking good after the first couple of lines. But then I started craving some of the dope and asked him for some and he gave me a nice little chunk. I wrapped it up in an old receipt from my job. So I am staring at a pile of dope and a pile of coke and I've been sniffing them back and forth ever since I got home at 8am.

I guess I'm living some weird double life right now... Nerdy bookseller by day, dope/coke fiend by night...and weekends...

I've been itching to type up this blog but I just couldn't get my head around it. If you are going to ask me what my name, is you already know the answer to that, I will not give it to you for privacy reasons.

I grew up in a conservative Asian family, and both of my parents are strict, though my dad is the stricter one between the two. I was not allowed to go out to parties until I was 18. I spent most of my time at home doing homework, reading books or watching movies.

I was a consistent honor student from grade school to high school, and this is because I didn't really have a choice but to study. Back in my former country, school was very important, and if you don't study hard, you are most likely to fail. School usually starts at 7 and ends at 5 pm. You have to have an extra curricular activity/activities if you want to remain as an honor student as it is part of our marks. So on top of being tired from academic studies, physically you are also drained.

I always hungered for the outside world, always had this hunger to experience what it feels like to go to parties, to sleep over, to have a variety of circle of friends but I just couldn't argue with my parents, for me at that time, they were always right.

As soon as I went to college, this is where everything started to change. I transformed from a conservative school girl, to a wild and liberated college girl. This is where I started skipping classes, drinking, going to parties and meeting a lot of people. It felt like I was free at last and I can be part of a popular group of party people and just live life to the fullest. This is the time where arguments with my parents specially my father were endless. Every single day my dad will always scrutinize my outfit, my habits everything that he can see that does not go with what he wants.

From the age of 19 up to the age of 24 I was a rebel. Anything that I felt that they deprived me of I wanted it. Going out every weekend was not enough, it needed to be everyday.

When I turned 24, I met Matt. Due to the horrible experiences I had with assholes I have dated before, I've decided that if I am going to date another guy, he should be the opposite of what I was. Matt was conservative and never liked parties and such. We dated for four years and this was my longest relationship. I loved Matt so much that I sacrificed my party life and obeyed every single thing he wanted me to do, to the point that I lost myself. I lost my identity and I lost my friends. At the end, he still left me not because of a third party but because we were never meant to be together in the first place. We are just so different, so different that thinking back as to how my relationship with him was, I wasn't really happy.

Again, since I limited myself from the outside world, As soon as we broke up, I went out a lot. I went to parties again. One of my girlfriends suggested I date this Russian guy who she thinks will be perfect for me since he loves going to rave parties. I started dating him but it was more of for sex and drugs up until I took an unknown substance which was supposedly mdma last year of December 2012. By February of this year I found Bluelight. I signed up as a member right away to find answers for the comedown I am experiencing but there was no magic pill to solve my symptom.

There are so many things that I regret which I wish I could take back but it's too late. I wish I never took mdma and just consumed alcohol. I wish I followed my parents advice because after all, they just want what's best for me. I might have messed up myself but I know that I am strong enough to surpass this. This comedown taught me a lot of things and made me realize that I have a purpose in life, and that is to help people who are suffering from drug abuse or who will be finding Bluelight due to a comedown. I want to be that person who they can approach and rely on. I want to be their pillar of strength.

A young cat just poked it's head in through the skylight to my room 'NO' I shouted in a bid to deter the cat from entering my pit of gloom. 'GO AWAY'.

The cat ignored my cries, stretching it's head forward & leaning forward before jumping onto the bed below.

'Great' I thought. Now there's a fucking cat in my room and I didn't even want company.

A beautiful grey furred cat of the inquisitive variety. I was secretly glad to have some cool company in this pit of despair.

'MEOW' said the cat, looking over at me as if asking for some assistance.
'What'? I questioned.

'There's nothing I can do' I said. And I certainly wasn't getting up to open the door. At least not yet.
You shall have to suffer your ill choice, at least for a few minutes yet.

The cat began to explore my room.
Treading fondly on the bed. Massaging the quilt with it's tiny little paws. Looking as if it had discovered the absolute lap of luxury.

The cat jumped off the bed and began poking around some plastic bags. Of which contained a sizable quantity of my earthly possessions.

This made me paranoid. I wasn't going to have a cat aggressively pissing all over my stuff. No siree.

I got out of my chair and opened the door 'COME ON CAT' I said in a stern voice.
'YOU MUST LEAVE NOW' 'Your time is over'.

The cat just looked at me bewildered.
I sighed and began to walk to the far side of the room.

The cat remained still as I reached down and picked her up before transporting her back to the other side of the room.
I placed her near the door so she could leave on her own accord....

Today is day 4. On day three I cut the shit out of my hand at work. I make a living with my hands as a line cook. Later when I got home I fell down my stairs into a door and busted out the door frame. That's not going to be cheap. This is the kind of shit I do on illegal drugs but it's a lot more fun and makes for a much better story. Debated contacting my doctor but I decided I'll give it some time.

In contrast to my last post where I had %1000 ideas my brain is just not with me today. I can put together coherent thoughts though. Only because I have so few thoughts to choose from its hard not to stay on track. I feel like my creativity is shot but maybe I'm incorrect. I have the day off so I guess I can enjoy the haze of a Major Tranquilizer . I've been blazing the past 45 minutes and I'm not high. Seroquel is such a buzzkill. Well I mean I am high. I can tell I've smoked weed. But its like blazing while drunk an on Xanax bars. You just don't feel the weed the same way when your solidly tranqued. I just took a whiskey shot to get the stimulation a bit of alcohol seems to give in the morning. While your brain is frozen solid in anti-psychotic land even alcohol seems like a stimulant.

A couple hours later I am hungry. I smoke some more weed and eat a frozen pizza. The feeling of burnout is indescribable. My mind wants to do more but my body isn't up for it. Nicotine gum and diet coke don't disrupt the fog a bit. I need to go for a bike ride soon. With the Seroquel I wouldn't drive a car. Inebriated biking while not recommended is a lot less dangerous than driving a car and is thankfully my only option today. The bike ride is slow and painful.

I'm tired. To tired to be happy. To tired to be depressed. I'm a zombie in an emotional straight-jacket. At least I haven't needed my klonopin. I wish I could write better than this but I'm just dead. I will probably edit it tonight if I can get my brain going.

echo "hi":;//.