eastern star
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2015
- Messages
- 39
I wrote this yesterday randomly. I have not a soul in real life I can be this honest with.
Pain is loathsome. Ask anybody. Maybe not those no pain no gain assholes at the gym, but for me, it is loathsome. I will avoid it at all cost and go to great lengths to rid myself of it. All the while causing pain.
I seek creature comforts and instant gratification. I had my share of cake and I ate it too. I may have had your slice too. I popped pills, ate mushrooms and slammed cocaine. I sold my body and soul and bought a new nose. I traded in my BMW for a Mercedes and traded one
addiction for another.
Rehab was an outpatient parade walk I did for the courts after the DUI arrest. Arrests sprinkled through my mid twenties and thirties. That last incident could have been the worst yet. Luckily, I remembered to put all my works away and hide the drugs before I passed out on heroin after a two day coke binge in the hotel room… I woke up to six police officers in the room. I’m in the bed naked, thinking “oh fuck, I’m fucking done.”
The cops took the door off the hinges and came in finding me “unresponsive” after being called to the room. I had the music up and had stayed way past check out time, dumb cunt.
The tall, familiar looking cop looks at me angrily as I ask if I can go in the bathroom and put my clothes on. I didn’t want all those people in the room seeing me naked there in the sheet and I really didn’t want my fucked up pin cushion arms being seen and giving me away. Were they going to find the drugs? Was I being arrested? They saw a glass of scotch next to the bed. The cop said “She’s drunk.” I was going to puke, I was crying, I was sure they would find the drugs, the needles. Do not pass GO, go straight to JAIL. But to my shock, they escorted me out of the room and into a taxi that is the short story. Fuck that was close.
I was not dead. I did not get arrested. But I had fucked up, big time. I’ll get into the details later but just prior to this episode with the police I had killed my relationship with my sister via drug induced psychosis. You would think I would have learned my lesson after I fucked up my hand and it swelled five times it’s size. That was a very expensive fuck up and could have cost my hand. What the fuck? Why didn’t I stop? It would be two binges later, either of which could have been deadly. My Vena Cava can’t take the abuse. I would finally see a darkness that scared me into the light. That last time I saw Hell. Next time I might not come back from the other side and I don’t want to hear those voices or see those eyes looking at me ever again.
But that is not even what I was planning on writing about. I was talking about pain and how I now, I have to be a douchebag vegan because of the effects of lasagna abuse on my bitch ass system. Drug consumption in doses that should have killed an elephant didn’t do me in, it was the fucking lasagna?!! Strange twist of plot, Life….It was food that was killing me faster than all the drugs I had binged on within an inch of my life. Eight days ago my body decided I was allergic to eating as I was knew it.
Cocaine in a Helluv a drug they say. I never believed in God. But, I saw Hell outside my window after an 8 ball in my veins. There were fucked up scary spirits entities in my house speaking to me. Calling my name. I can't tell anyone this shit. I am now a fruit loop- Don't do drugs kids!! Those last 2 binges, I saw demons everywhere. I could hear their voices loudly. They had a lot to say... and now 100% believe in the afterlife. I've never been so frightened.
For me it's started 10 months ago shooting cola. 5 months after that I "quit".... but since then I've have two episodes with me doing an eight ball in a night by myself (and the demons) and fighting over who gets to keep my soul. I did it again though. I fucked my arm today and I'm scared. Last binge was a month ago.
Swore to myself I was not going back to the demon posse IV coke land that awaited me if I scored. Then I found 2
amphetamine 3061 capsules and decided to fuck myself up. I so scared of myself. My arms are ugly again and one arm I poked 3 times unsuccessfully. No hit, but I got this fucking awesome rash that spans a third or one arm on the crook of my elbow next to the pebble sized poke hole I gave myself today.
SO here I am, confessing my sins... To anyone if you're out there...
Pain is loathsome. Ask anybody. Maybe not those no pain no gain assholes at the gym, but for me, it is loathsome. I will avoid it at all cost and go to great lengths to rid myself of it. All the while causing pain.
I seek creature comforts and instant gratification. I had my share of cake and I ate it too. I may have had your slice too. I popped pills, ate mushrooms and slammed cocaine. I sold my body and soul and bought a new nose. I traded in my BMW for a Mercedes and traded one
addiction for another.
Rehab was an outpatient parade walk I did for the courts after the DUI arrest. Arrests sprinkled through my mid twenties and thirties. That last incident could have been the worst yet. Luckily, I remembered to put all my works away and hide the drugs before I passed out on heroin after a two day coke binge in the hotel room… I woke up to six police officers in the room. I’m in the bed naked, thinking “oh fuck, I’m fucking done.”
The cops took the door off the hinges and came in finding me “unresponsive” after being called to the room. I had the music up and had stayed way past check out time, dumb cunt.
The tall, familiar looking cop looks at me angrily as I ask if I can go in the bathroom and put my clothes on. I didn’t want all those people in the room seeing me naked there in the sheet and I really didn’t want my fucked up pin cushion arms being seen and giving me away. Were they going to find the drugs? Was I being arrested? They saw a glass of scotch next to the bed. The cop said “She’s drunk.” I was going to puke, I was crying, I was sure they would find the drugs, the needles. Do not pass GO, go straight to JAIL. But to my shock, they escorted me out of the room and into a taxi that is the short story. Fuck that was close.
I was not dead. I did not get arrested. But I had fucked up, big time. I’ll get into the details later but just prior to this episode with the police I had killed my relationship with my sister via drug induced psychosis. You would think I would have learned my lesson after I fucked up my hand and it swelled five times it’s size. That was a very expensive fuck up and could have cost my hand. What the fuck? Why didn’t I stop? It would be two binges later, either of which could have been deadly. My Vena Cava can’t take the abuse. I would finally see a darkness that scared me into the light. That last time I saw Hell. Next time I might not come back from the other side and I don’t want to hear those voices or see those eyes looking at me ever again.
But that is not even what I was planning on writing about. I was talking about pain and how I now, I have to be a douchebag vegan because of the effects of lasagna abuse on my bitch ass system. Drug consumption in doses that should have killed an elephant didn’t do me in, it was the fucking lasagna?!! Strange twist of plot, Life….It was food that was killing me faster than all the drugs I had binged on within an inch of my life. Eight days ago my body decided I was allergic to eating as I was knew it.
Cocaine in a Helluv a drug they say. I never believed in God. But, I saw Hell outside my window after an 8 ball in my veins. There were fucked up scary spirits entities in my house speaking to me. Calling my name. I can't tell anyone this shit. I am now a fruit loop- Don't do drugs kids!! Those last 2 binges, I saw demons everywhere. I could hear their voices loudly. They had a lot to say... and now 100% believe in the afterlife. I've never been so frightened.
For me it's started 10 months ago shooting cola. 5 months after that I "quit".... but since then I've have two episodes with me doing an eight ball in a night by myself (and the demons) and fighting over who gets to keep my soul. I did it again though. I fucked my arm today and I'm scared. Last binge was a month ago.
Swore to myself I was not going back to the demon posse IV coke land that awaited me if I scored. Then I found 2
amphetamine 3061 capsules and decided to fuck myself up. I so scared of myself. My arms are ugly again and one arm I poked 3 times unsuccessfully. No hit, but I got this fucking awesome rash that spans a third or one arm on the crook of my elbow next to the pebble sized poke hole I gave myself today.
SO here I am, confessing my sins... To anyone if you're out there...
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