onthenodintulsa
Bluelighter
Fuck sobriety. It's overrated. I'm miserable, manic, depressed, very depressed, bored, mostly bored. All the time I spent with my lover, driving to meet her, letting her fill me with joy, happiness, peace-what do I do now? Nothing I can find makes me happy. I'm stuck in this misery people call life. Stuck without my love.
Here is where my junkie rationale takes over. Non-addicts all have something to make them happy. Food, exercise, religion, work, children, money, whatever. Why does the one thing that makes happy, fills me with joy, have to be illegal? My heroin use isn't hurting anyone. I don't harm people or steal to get well. If I happen to run out, I can put up with the sickness. I've been through hell before, it will pass, eventually it always does. It comes with the territory, its the nature of the beast. Nothing is perfect, every great thing has its downfalls.
Why am I treated like a second class citizen just because my lover is named heroin? I'm shuffled off to rehabs, 12-step meetings, therapists, groups, church, etc. All of these people say something is missing in my life. No shit. Heroin is missing. The first and last thing to make me happy in life is now gone. For now. Rehab is a time to plot relapses and lower tolerance back to a manageable level. I don't know why I'm here. Ha. Yes I do. I'm off in church camp hell. Anything sounds good to a dope sick dope fiend. The promise of a better life, better tomorrows, blah blah bullshit. The website makes it sound all shiny and happy. Touching lives and saving souls. Not this soul. Stay away from my soul. My soul is already taken, hopelessly consumed. No room for you or your God here. My days are filled with God, groups, chores, food, books and sleep. Oh, and more God.
The past several weeks have been some of the worst of my life. I moved 2,000 miles away from my dope, my friends, family, everything I knew to come stay here. My father found this place. He thinks I simply need a little God in my life and all will be well. Everything but me. Being an addict has taught me patience. I can remain serene and relaxed longer than most anyone I know. Patience comes easily after waiting for dealers. Anyway-I'm supposed to live here for six months and go back to Tulsa. Well, not just live here, thrive here is more like it. Reconnecting with my parents' God will supposedly take away my obsession for my one true love. Ha. Try me. I dare you. "...Wish I'd saved up for rainy days 'cause they're the hardest to be dry..."-Bright Eyes
Here is where my junkie rationale takes over. Non-addicts all have something to make them happy. Food, exercise, religion, work, children, money, whatever. Why does the one thing that makes happy, fills me with joy, have to be illegal? My heroin use isn't hurting anyone. I don't harm people or steal to get well. If I happen to run out, I can put up with the sickness. I've been through hell before, it will pass, eventually it always does. It comes with the territory, its the nature of the beast. Nothing is perfect, every great thing has its downfalls.
Why am I treated like a second class citizen just because my lover is named heroin? I'm shuffled off to rehabs, 12-step meetings, therapists, groups, church, etc. All of these people say something is missing in my life. No shit. Heroin is missing. The first and last thing to make me happy in life is now gone. For now. Rehab is a time to plot relapses and lower tolerance back to a manageable level. I don't know why I'm here. Ha. Yes I do. I'm off in church camp hell. Anything sounds good to a dope sick dope fiend. The promise of a better life, better tomorrows, blah blah bullshit. The website makes it sound all shiny and happy. Touching lives and saving souls. Not this soul. Stay away from my soul. My soul is already taken, hopelessly consumed. No room for you or your God here. My days are filled with God, groups, chores, food, books and sleep. Oh, and more God.
The past several weeks have been some of the worst of my life. I moved 2,000 miles away from my dope, my friends, family, everything I knew to come stay here. My father found this place. He thinks I simply need a little God in my life and all will be well. Everything but me. Being an addict has taught me patience. I can remain serene and relaxed longer than most anyone I know. Patience comes easily after waiting for dealers. Anyway-I'm supposed to live here for six months and go back to Tulsa. Well, not just live here, thrive here is more like it. Reconnecting with my parents' God will supposedly take away my obsession for my one true love. Ha. Try me. I dare you. "...Wish I'd saved up for rainy days 'cause they're the hardest to be dry..."-Bright Eyes
