Note to self: Chemical happiness is not real. When the chemicals are gone, life sucks again. Maybe one day I will figure that out for real.
But here's the story anyway. Whining ahoy:
Ran out of oxycodone last night; called a dude for some oxymorphone yesterday. Normal oxycodone dude is gone for the holidays (fucking Thanksgiving...) so the oxymorphone dude doesn't wanna give shit up for a good price. Eventually though everything seemed to be smooth as usual. BUT! The guy I actually see and deal with disappears. He's a Chatty Cathy (text messaging BS stupidity) all day and then radio silence for the last 12 hours, right before we're supposed to meet up...! Gah. Just fucking tell me 'no' so I can stop being a psychotic bitch and watching my Blackberry like it's going to turn into a fucking pony or give birth or fucking ring or something.
When he doesn't answer the phone it usually means either some bad shit went down and the police may have been involved (hoping this isn't the issue...) or got killed or overdosed or else he just got ridiculously high and stayed wherever he happened to be at, ignoring his phone. Can't fault the guy though, because from the glimpse I see of what he goes through, his life must be a pain in the ass. The free pills must be great though... (Even though the dude disappearing is another "as usual" ... I really thought he was gonna come through tonight.![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
I'm just bitching because he usually does come through -- middle-manning it though -- so I shouldn't complain. But it's my fucking blog and he doesn't read it so I will complain.)
I obviously just want to be high right now. Nodding. Opiated bliss. I would have showered and washed my hair and done my laundry! Instead I am cold and smelly with nasty hair, no clean clothing, angry, depressed and anxious. Well, in about 8 hours now, I have to go to Housing Court.
It's probably best I'm not high, though. Since I have to go to Housing Court in the morning to deal with my stupidity. I assume it's best not to be nodding off in front of a Housing Court judge while telling them you're broke because you're a college student and can't find work at the moment but really all you want to do is spend money on pills and pot. (I mean, I truly am poor and can't find work for real... but this doesn't help. My rental arrears is going to be taken care of by the other half of my girlfriend's student loan because I am a selfish bitch and she is not.)
In the mean time, I took some suboxone, just enough to not want to jump out of my sixth floor window. Smoked a little pot. Took my rx'd Klonopin... my tolerance to oxycodone was only around 60mgs at that moment so it's pretty cake walk when it comes to physical shit but the mental shit is there hardcore. It never leaves, really. But I am sure a lot of you know that.
November is not a good month for me. Thanksgiving is not a good holiday for me. This week I have off of school isn't going to be a good week for me, unless this dude contacts me tomorrow. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow. I shouldn't have let it get like this. I feel like such a fool for having to go through this eviction shit. I need a job. I apply to places and don't hear back or else I get an interview and it doesn't go well or if I do get an interview I don't go to it because I have a tendency to be nihilistic about shit.
Maybe I am just a fucking stupid loser "hillbilly heroin" addict, though. That could be it. I want to try some regular old heroin, though. I am positive it would be the worst mistake I ever make, but whatever. How much worse can my life really get? (Don't answer that...)
I thought I had it all figured out. I feel like there is this chain twisted and twirled around my brain, locked with a padlock that has neither key nor combination. I started drinking alcohol and smoking pot when I was 17. Cocaine, LSD and benzos came not long after. That's 8 years of near constant alcohol and drug abuse under my belt. Boy, I'm just so proud of that. Mother drank herself to death, father gambled away all his money and got Parkinson's Disease, sitting in a nursing home losing his mind more and more each and every day...)
I guess I just wanted an escape. Home life sucked. School life sucked. I only had a few friends. One in particular pretty much introduced me to drugs. Before that I was a binge-eating bulimic... So we can see a pattern here of addictive, self-destructive behaviors.
The opiates started when my friend had some dental surgery. She had Vicodin, which she had a problem with in the past. The Vicodin were probably 5-10/500s. Lame shit. (My goal was to complete the Queens of the Stone Age song, "Feel Good Hit of the Summer". It goes... "Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, Marijuana, Ecstasy and Alcohol... C-c-c-cocaine!"
By 17 I only needed Vicodin and Ecstasy to complete the song. Why did I want to do this? Who the fuck knows. I also tried LSD, salvia, DXM, Xanax, Klonopin and more shit I'm probably forgetting at that point.
My friend offers me the Vicodin and I looked at it so casually. Who knew it would change my life so much? I took those giant horse pills (with orange juice because the taste of Tylenol makes me want to vomit) and waited. It was so nonchalant. I think she gave/sold me 10 of them. I had 50-100mgs of hydrocodone in total. That wouldn't even tickle me now. But I got fucking wasted then! Off of 10mgs of some medicine my friend got from the dentist. WTF, dental surgery, sign me up! RIGHT?
It was like I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. HAPPY. Euphoric! Elated! Granted, I was a little itchy and a little nauseous but I would grow to love the itching and a granola bar & coconut water take care of the nausea for me now. If only I could feel like this ALL THE TIME! I had my first nod on the playground equipment of my elementary school with my 2 friends I pretty much grew up with (one of whom I introduced to alcohol and the other who gave/sold really cheaply the Vicodin to me ... funny how that works.)
Another time, still on the Vicodin, my friend was visiting California. She asked me to go with her to the airport so I did, as long as she shared the Vicodin... I had about 30mgs and she had probably 15... we were both pretty smacked from it. She ended up puking all over the airport which was so paranoia-inducing to me when I am not high on opiates (it was J.F. motherfucking K.! I think there's still the National Guard there... I don't know, I haven't flown since 2008) But I puked just once... ha! I did have to take the subway back by myself from fucking Queens to... well, the opposite of Queens!
...
I knew it was trouble. But it's the best thing I've ever felt. Perhaps knowing what it feels like to truly want to be sober will feel even better...
But here's the story anyway. Whining ahoy:
Ran out of oxycodone last night; called a dude for some oxymorphone yesterday. Normal oxycodone dude is gone for the holidays (fucking Thanksgiving...) so the oxymorphone dude doesn't wanna give shit up for a good price. Eventually though everything seemed to be smooth as usual. BUT! The guy I actually see and deal with disappears. He's a Chatty Cathy (text messaging BS stupidity) all day and then radio silence for the last 12 hours, right before we're supposed to meet up...! Gah. Just fucking tell me 'no' so I can stop being a psychotic bitch and watching my Blackberry like it's going to turn into a fucking pony or give birth or fucking ring or something.
When he doesn't answer the phone it usually means either some bad shit went down and the police may have been involved (hoping this isn't the issue...) or got killed or overdosed or else he just got ridiculously high and stayed wherever he happened to be at, ignoring his phone. Can't fault the guy though, because from the glimpse I see of what he goes through, his life must be a pain in the ass. The free pills must be great though... (Even though the dude disappearing is another "as usual" ... I really thought he was gonna come through tonight.
I'm just bitching because he usually does come through -- middle-manning it though -- so I shouldn't complain. But it's my fucking blog and he doesn't read it so I will complain.) I obviously just want to be high right now. Nodding. Opiated bliss. I would have showered and washed my hair and done my laundry! Instead I am cold and smelly with nasty hair, no clean clothing, angry, depressed and anxious. Well, in about 8 hours now, I have to go to Housing Court.
It's probably best I'm not high, though. Since I have to go to Housing Court in the morning to deal with my stupidity. I assume it's best not to be nodding off in front of a Housing Court judge while telling them you're broke because you're a college student and can't find work at the moment but really all you want to do is spend money on pills and pot. (I mean, I truly am poor and can't find work for real... but this doesn't help. My rental arrears is going to be taken care of by the other half of my girlfriend's student loan because I am a selfish bitch and she is not.)
In the mean time, I took some suboxone, just enough to not want to jump out of my sixth floor window. Smoked a little pot. Took my rx'd Klonopin... my tolerance to oxycodone was only around 60mgs at that moment so it's pretty cake walk when it comes to physical shit but the mental shit is there hardcore. It never leaves, really. But I am sure a lot of you know that.
November is not a good month for me. Thanksgiving is not a good holiday for me. This week I have off of school isn't going to be a good week for me, unless this dude contacts me tomorrow. I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow. I shouldn't have let it get like this. I feel like such a fool for having to go through this eviction shit. I need a job. I apply to places and don't hear back or else I get an interview and it doesn't go well or if I do get an interview I don't go to it because I have a tendency to be nihilistic about shit.
Maybe I am just a fucking stupid loser "hillbilly heroin" addict, though. That could be it. I want to try some regular old heroin, though. I am positive it would be the worst mistake I ever make, but whatever. How much worse can my life really get? (Don't answer that...)
I thought I had it all figured out. I feel like there is this chain twisted and twirled around my brain, locked with a padlock that has neither key nor combination. I started drinking alcohol and smoking pot when I was 17. Cocaine, LSD and benzos came not long after. That's 8 years of near constant alcohol and drug abuse under my belt. Boy, I'm just so proud of that. Mother drank herself to death, father gambled away all his money and got Parkinson's Disease, sitting in a nursing home losing his mind more and more each and every day...)
I guess I just wanted an escape. Home life sucked. School life sucked. I only had a few friends. One in particular pretty much introduced me to drugs. Before that I was a binge-eating bulimic... So we can see a pattern here of addictive, self-destructive behaviors.
The opiates started when my friend had some dental surgery. She had Vicodin, which she had a problem with in the past. The Vicodin were probably 5-10/500s. Lame shit. (My goal was to complete the Queens of the Stone Age song, "Feel Good Hit of the Summer". It goes... "Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, Marijuana, Ecstasy and Alcohol... C-c-c-cocaine!"
By 17 I only needed Vicodin and Ecstasy to complete the song. Why did I want to do this? Who the fuck knows. I also tried LSD, salvia, DXM, Xanax, Klonopin and more shit I'm probably forgetting at that point.
My friend offers me the Vicodin and I looked at it so casually. Who knew it would change my life so much? I took those giant horse pills (with orange juice because the taste of Tylenol makes me want to vomit) and waited. It was so nonchalant. I think she gave/sold me 10 of them. I had 50-100mgs of hydrocodone in total. That wouldn't even tickle me now. But I got fucking wasted then! Off of 10mgs of some medicine my friend got from the dentist. WTF, dental surgery, sign me up! RIGHT?
It was like I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. HAPPY. Euphoric! Elated! Granted, I was a little itchy and a little nauseous but I would grow to love the itching and a granola bar & coconut water take care of the nausea for me now. If only I could feel like this ALL THE TIME! I had my first nod on the playground equipment of my elementary school with my 2 friends I pretty much grew up with (one of whom I introduced to alcohol and the other who gave/sold really cheaply the Vicodin to me ... funny how that works.)
Another time, still on the Vicodin, my friend was visiting California. She asked me to go with her to the airport so I did, as long as she shared the Vicodin... I had about 30mgs and she had probably 15... we were both pretty smacked from it. She ended up puking all over the airport which was so paranoia-inducing to me when I am not high on opiates (it was J.F. motherfucking K.! I think there's still the National Guard there... I don't know, I haven't flown since 2008) But I puked just once... ha! I did have to take the subway back by myself from fucking Queens to... well, the opposite of Queens!
...
I knew it was trouble. But it's the best thing I've ever felt. Perhaps knowing what it feels like to truly want to be sober will feel even better...