*** copied from BL journal ***
Its been somewhere around a week since I've done any drugs. I've been drinking but not getting drunk. Today was pretty tough being inside my own skin. I'm really not accustomed to being around this asshole I call 'me'.
I was struggling and I had a few dollars in my pocket. I had thoughts of driving to Philly to score and I almost drove around the shady parts of my new town. I even looked into the syringe laws of the the state I'm living in now (BTW, syringes aren't sold without a prescription in PA). I was essentially setting myself up to fuck up.
I called someone out here that has been where I am and we ended up having lunch and shooting the shit about drugs, recovery and each others stories. That helped with my cravings pretty well but they came back rather quickly. I was fucked. I had nothing to do to keep me busy and I had to be around the asshole in my head who keeps telling me I'm a piece of shit. This voice is always coming up with the most fucked up justifications for sticking that shit in my arm.
Once again, I was FUCKED. There was no way I was going to make it through the day without fucking up. I was bored, angry, lonely and depressed and I had the rest of the day to get through.
My phone rang and it was my friend who owns a pizzeria. He was short handed and wanted to know if I wanted to work a few hours. Fuck yeah I wanna work! I was provided something to do and it silenced that asshole in my head.
After work I was feeling good. I boxed and bagged up all the stuff that they were going to throw out. I had 2 large pizzas and 6 big bags of assorted slices, mini-strombolis, hot dogs and a meatball sandwich. I threw everything in my car and headed to the popular spots where the homeless hang out. I drove up and down the streets for a little over an hour and didn't see anyone that was living on the street.
My 'check engine' light came on, I made a few more circles and went home. NOONE hungry got fed. I feel like a piece of shit. How dare I give up so easily when someone's stomach is in a tight, painful knot and the weakness from lack of food is making them shaky and feint. ALL that food went into the dumpster when I got home. Fuckin' lazy asshole. I should have tried harder. I KNOW I would have found them if I walked up and down some streets but I can't do that right now.
Anyone who's scored on the streets knows the eye contact game. Here I was driving slowly down impoverished streets in a drug infested town looking at everyone I saw to determine if they were homeless. Sometimes my eyes would lock onto someone else's and we knew each other, the dealer, the fiend.
If I walked those streets, the eye contact would have turned into one word conversations and I would be fucked. If i didn't buy it I would still have a definite known location to score when i have another day of doubt and weakness.
I didn't buy drugs but I didn't help anyone either. Noone ate and I think I'm an asshole for driving home so soon.
I could have tried harder
Its been somewhere around a week since I've done any drugs. I've been drinking but not getting drunk. Today was pretty tough being inside my own skin. I'm really not accustomed to being around this asshole I call 'me'.
I was struggling and I had a few dollars in my pocket. I had thoughts of driving to Philly to score and I almost drove around the shady parts of my new town. I even looked into the syringe laws of the the state I'm living in now (BTW, syringes aren't sold without a prescription in PA). I was essentially setting myself up to fuck up.
I called someone out here that has been where I am and we ended up having lunch and shooting the shit about drugs, recovery and each others stories. That helped with my cravings pretty well but they came back rather quickly. I was fucked. I had nothing to do to keep me busy and I had to be around the asshole in my head who keeps telling me I'm a piece of shit. This voice is always coming up with the most fucked up justifications for sticking that shit in my arm.
Once again, I was FUCKED. There was no way I was going to make it through the day without fucking up. I was bored, angry, lonely and depressed and I had the rest of the day to get through.
My phone rang and it was my friend who owns a pizzeria. He was short handed and wanted to know if I wanted to work a few hours. Fuck yeah I wanna work! I was provided something to do and it silenced that asshole in my head.
After work I was feeling good. I boxed and bagged up all the stuff that they were going to throw out. I had 2 large pizzas and 6 big bags of assorted slices, mini-strombolis, hot dogs and a meatball sandwich. I threw everything in my car and headed to the popular spots where the homeless hang out. I drove up and down the streets for a little over an hour and didn't see anyone that was living on the street.
My 'check engine' light came on, I made a few more circles and went home. NOONE hungry got fed. I feel like a piece of shit. How dare I give up so easily when someone's stomach is in a tight, painful knot and the weakness from lack of food is making them shaky and feint. ALL that food went into the dumpster when I got home. Fuckin' lazy asshole. I should have tried harder. I KNOW I would have found them if I walked up and down some streets but I can't do that right now.
Anyone who's scored on the streets knows the eye contact game. Here I was driving slowly down impoverished streets in a drug infested town looking at everyone I saw to determine if they were homeless. Sometimes my eyes would lock onto someone else's and we knew each other, the dealer, the fiend.
If I walked those streets, the eye contact would have turned into one word conversations and I would be fucked. If i didn't buy it I would still have a definite known location to score when i have another day of doubt and weakness.
I didn't buy drugs but I didn't help anyone either. Noone ate and I think I'm an asshole for driving home so soon.
I could have tried harder