4/1/2009
Dude I can NOT believe what is happening. Ok deep breaths, chill the fuck out home girl. From the beginning, what happened that lead up to the events of the present as I live and breathe this instant, and YOU dear reader sit there taking in the latest news of the life of someone you no doubt find curious. Well, I had a good day at work yesterday, although did feel a bit sad from the opiate w/ds. I think I’ve explained that intense sadness, depression, even thoughts of suicide that I’ve no intention of ever taking place are actually a welcome relief as to what I was experiencing with that blasted tramadol comedown!
Have you ever watched the movie The Wall with Pink Floyd? I saw that movie for the first time with my best friend and stoner buddy Tami. That movie was depressing, violent, and it’s theme was completely anti war and anti dictatorship. There was this scene in the movie where Pink, a rich and famous, but emotionally damaged rock star was in a room for God knew how long merely zoning out, having an expression of what I’ve felt: complete apathy. Can’t do or say anything, you’re beyond numb, but just forced into an existence, a state of being to where no one, nothing, can snap you out of this horrific living dead, but not numb feeling.
The guy was so damaged, that all he could do was zone out in a torturous existence. His girlfriend tried to get a response from him, yet all he did was zone cause he was emotionally apathetic and zoned out for days. She finally left him, understandably. The guy couldn’t work, couldn’t talk, couldn’t get any pleasure of any kind from anything. That’s how I felt tapering from tramadol. The management finally kicked his door in, saw the state he was in, couldn’t get anywhere with him and he had a concert. They gave him what was probably Hitler perfect methamphetamine, when the song said, “Ok ok ok, it’s just a little pinprick. There will be no more pain, but you will feel a little stick.” The guy starts screaming at the sudden gush of adrenaline, he’s beyond wasted, but finally gets his ass out to perform.
In my case, a whisper of a memory told me, “You didn’t feel this bad when you were kicking Rx PK’s practically cold turkey. Ditch the tramadol, try the opiates.” I successfully went down to 2 pills yesterday and today, with no horrific effects, other than the characteristic opiate sadness, which was a welcome relief from the apathetic zoning torture. That was a worse come down of any drug and just went on and on and fucking on. So, that was my story getting off work. I was grateful not to be kicking the other kick, yet thought, “It sure would be nice for a change to see sister Crystal because she is the only one that enables me to write and write and write….I shouldn’t of, but I did.
I was also scolding myself for forking out another $20 for Aimee and Don’s never ending story of no money and always dope sick. It’s like, Christ when I’m sick, fuckin no one bails my ass out. I have to pay for my own habit. Or kick. Now, for what it’s worth, I still had a choice. I know Aimee is always gonna try to hustle to survive, as she has no income other than taking $60 from Nana’s purse every week, plus what she makes scamming various stores, and selling their merchandise. Then, there is the money that Don gets from “spanging” every night, hangin on some street corner beggin for spare change. He can make up to $20-30 a day on a good night, although lately the economy sucks so bad that people tell him to fuck off.
Dude I can NOT believe what is happening. Ok deep breaths, chill the fuck out home girl. From the beginning, what happened that lead up to the events of the present as I live and breathe this instant, and YOU dear reader sit there taking in the latest news of the life of someone you no doubt find curious. Well, I had a good day at work yesterday, although did feel a bit sad from the opiate w/ds. I think I’ve explained that intense sadness, depression, even thoughts of suicide that I’ve no intention of ever taking place are actually a welcome relief as to what I was experiencing with that blasted tramadol comedown!
Have you ever watched the movie The Wall with Pink Floyd? I saw that movie for the first time with my best friend and stoner buddy Tami. That movie was depressing, violent, and it’s theme was completely anti war and anti dictatorship. There was this scene in the movie where Pink, a rich and famous, but emotionally damaged rock star was in a room for God knew how long merely zoning out, having an expression of what I’ve felt: complete apathy. Can’t do or say anything, you’re beyond numb, but just forced into an existence, a state of being to where no one, nothing, can snap you out of this horrific living dead, but not numb feeling.
The guy was so damaged, that all he could do was zone out in a torturous existence. His girlfriend tried to get a response from him, yet all he did was zone cause he was emotionally apathetic and zoned out for days. She finally left him, understandably. The guy couldn’t work, couldn’t talk, couldn’t get any pleasure of any kind from anything. That’s how I felt tapering from tramadol. The management finally kicked his door in, saw the state he was in, couldn’t get anywhere with him and he had a concert. They gave him what was probably Hitler perfect methamphetamine, when the song said, “Ok ok ok, it’s just a little pinprick. There will be no more pain, but you will feel a little stick.” The guy starts screaming at the sudden gush of adrenaline, he’s beyond wasted, but finally gets his ass out to perform.
In my case, a whisper of a memory told me, “You didn’t feel this bad when you were kicking Rx PK’s practically cold turkey. Ditch the tramadol, try the opiates.” I successfully went down to 2 pills yesterday and today, with no horrific effects, other than the characteristic opiate sadness, which was a welcome relief from the apathetic zoning torture. That was a worse come down of any drug and just went on and on and fucking on. So, that was my story getting off work. I was grateful not to be kicking the other kick, yet thought, “It sure would be nice for a change to see sister Crystal because she is the only one that enables me to write and write and write….I shouldn’t of, but I did.
I was also scolding myself for forking out another $20 for Aimee and Don’s never ending story of no money and always dope sick. It’s like, Christ when I’m sick, fuckin no one bails my ass out. I have to pay for my own habit. Or kick. Now, for what it’s worth, I still had a choice. I know Aimee is always gonna try to hustle to survive, as she has no income other than taking $60 from Nana’s purse every week, plus what she makes scamming various stores, and selling their merchandise. Then, there is the money that Don gets from “spanging” every night, hangin on some street corner beggin for spare change. He can make up to $20-30 a day on a good night, although lately the economy sucks so bad that people tell him to fuck off.