Tweaker's gone clean on me, wasn't heartless enough a person to ask if they could throw me anyone else's number. I guess I coulda found somebody to hook me up with an hour's worth of legwork while I was in the area, but I didn't feel like it. I'm happy for the man but it's depressing (dude's personality was different, without the pep/air of desperation in his interaction.), the world's moved on without me and taken another my life with it. I'm not even in the mood to drink.
So I'm sipping on some
Russian Caravan tea.
edit: half a dozen hours and some vaped (I am horribly inefficient at this, availability less than oral) 2c-e later...
The above person was someone I always felt better than, someone I could point to and say "At least I'm not like him." and justify myself. When he said he quit I immediately started thinking how else I might get hooked up, and became indifferent to the man. At that instant I knew that the roles had been reversed. If I went out now and got meth or H I would be that guy. If I went out and found someone else I would be discarding a person for a thing, even though the reason I stopped to begin with was to stop having my social life controlled/determined by drug use. My motivation for wanting to dabble again after a year off wasn't recreation, it was just a self-destructive way to deal with my frustration with my life, that I have since realized is a manifestation of my desire to make something of myself and live a healthy fulfilling life. Redirecting this desire into a malaise that can be treated with drug use can only turn me into a burnout addict.
My melancholy, the sense of loss, I felt earlier wasn't that I had lost the hard drug use by the world moving on without me, but that I lost it because I had moved on. That was a difficult thing to accept since I've allowed my use to become part of my identity.
It was in either
A Farewell to Arms or
The Sun Also Rises* that Hemmingway wrote that there are two kinds of sadness (I don't recall the distinction) a man can suffer from. With one alcohol will make him cheerful, with the other alcohol will only make him see his problems more clearly. Today my feelings put me in the latter category, and getting drunk on cheap wine just won't do for that, this is a problem that calls for whiskey (drunk neat while looking at the bottle), so here I sit with my friend Johnnie Walker.
*maybe it was in
The Fifth Column...Can't be from
The Sun Also Rises, pretty sure it's from a story set during the Spanish civil war.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
