ShreddedOrigami
Greenlighter
*I don't expect you to read the entire thing*
*I know it is long, it took me almost four hours to complete*
*I simply needed to write this all out for the first time*
I'll be 20 in April, no longer a teenager yet far from an adult.
Considering the recent acceleration in my mental deterioration, along with my first College
classes starting this Spring, I'd be grateful to make it that far without brandishing a tinfoil cap.
All the psychiatric literature I've read claims that if you are fully aware of your mental inconsistencies,
symptoms like irrational thoughts, paranoid delusions or visual and audible hallucinations,
then you are definitely not Schizophrenic. I suppose I should be content with that.
So my state of being? We'll just call it comfortable psychosis.
I haven't had longer than maybe three or so weeks completely clean and sober since age 13.
I feel as if I've never fully detoxed, not off of everything at least.
It started with the pill cocktails. I had seen at least eight different Psychiatrists between ages
12 and 14,and each one had prescribed an onslaught of mood stabilizers, antidepressants and so on.
My father had passed away when I turned 12, and within that same year I was institutionalized for over a month,
and slapped with the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, of course no one considered simply grief and depression.
I had drawers overflowing with multiple bottles full of things like Lamotrigine, Lithium(yuck!!),
Sertraline, Venlafaxine, Bupropion, Divalproex, Quetiapine, Olanzapine, Risperidone,
Escitalopram, Lorazepam, Alprazolam, Clonazepam, Trazodone..
No one in the family was monitoring my dosing, nor the drawers full of this shit.
Needless to say I was never properly tapered down off these. And I certainly didn't know what
the hellI was doing. It wasn't even so much for fun, I just knew daily ingestion of a few of these
"loopy pills", as I would call them, would more or less keep my mind from implosion.
At age 14 I discovered sweet miss Mary Jane. And with an after school job that became frequent.
Soon followed by alcohol. Whiskey, from the bottle, no chaser.
A warm welcome to the world of booze indeed
And of course when I went off to High School, still just an innocent drunken 15 year old,
there was the explosion of Ecstasy in my hometown (the Port of Los Angeles, for anyone familiar)
And with a close friend always well supplied, so too was I.
That magical year I also discovered that a lovely little tree in my own backyard was capable of
bending the very fibers of reality: Brugmansia, in the very same family as the Datura plants.
Unfortunately I made a highly concentrated batch of tea with it.
Landing myself in an Emergency Room getting my system cleaned out.
Some of my frequent hallucinations and visual issues were caused by that experience,
I'm sure of it. Several things I saw during my "trip" on that tea appear still, almost every other day.
Mostly just silhouettes of black cats. And that crazy continuously morphing oozy kind of way carpets and some upholstery look when your on some hallucinogens?
Apparently it can be permanent sometimes.
After that I never wanted to try LSD, mushrooms, or anything else with the ability to
remove my own physical and mental control, and tear reality right out from under me.
Though I continued to have frequent fun with Ecstasy until 11th grade.
That didn't stop until I had a few Orange Pikachu's one New Years eve that made me
quite seriously think I was dying.
Mind you I've never, ever been the type to freak out internally due to an overwhelming high,
but whatever was in these pills puts Black Tar to shame!
I had no idea what the cabin I was in actually looked like until I leveled out the next day!!
It was like one of those scenes in a horror flick, like a sort of 'fun house' affect,
where everything is just expanding and shrinking, getting reeeeaaallyyyy tall and then
insanely short. Not to mention I've never gone through such nausea in my life,
not from smoking Tar, taking handfuls of Hydrocodone, or even Oxycodone on an empty stomach.
I went through withdrawal from just three of those pills!
It lasted two days, and was almost identical to coming off a Tar bender.
(but at the time I hadn't known that feeling yet)
Somewhere between 10th and 11th grade I began being frequently prescribed Hydrocodones, 10/325mgs.
I have a chronic condition that causes me to be completely immobilized by intense pelvic contractions,
they can come on at any time. Sometimes triggered by physical activity, or extreme stress.
I was finally given the Hydrocodone prescription because luckily for me,
a doctor agreed thatit was absolutely cruel, mindless, inconvenient, and just
damn expensive to be constantly going to Emergency Rooms and
getting IV drips of Morphine and Dilaudid.
Hydrocodones were fun, but I hated how uncomfortable I
would feel after being heavily doped out on them for a week.
Started using my unlimited supply of Hydro's to trade around town,
being able to keep myself happily numbed with Oxycodone and
sometimes Methadones.
Then it was Alprazolam, by the fuckton. I would take it in the morning with my RedBulls, then again
at break before 3rd period,typically a few more at lunch. And then always at least one more after
dismissal. There was a good 8-11 months I was going through roughly 5mg to 14mg a day.
(sometimes it was the footballs, but usually the white "bars")
I didn't stop with that fun little escapade until I somehow managed to
ingest twenty-five footballs in one night. Some were the .5mg, most were the 1mg.
Knocked over my bong, and gave my first and last Macbook Pro a shower, drowning the motherboard.
Needless to say, I took a break from Benzo's after that.
During my adventures on xanax, I had discovered how much I truly loved beer.
Cheap beer, domestic beer, watery Mexican beer, even the weird imported knock off beer the 99 cent store had!
When I stopped taking the pills every day, Mickey's became breakfast, Budweiser and Rolling Rocks for lunch,
and 32's of Corona Familiar for dinner. Or honestly anything besides Budlight.
The drinking continued to be an all day every day thing, from probably March until October 2012.
That covers my birthday, and graduation. Can't remember either for the life of me.
I only cut back when I got a job that October as what we here in California call a Bud Tender.
I worked in a small Medical Dispensary, making $10/hour rolling thousands of joints each shift and
weighing out pound after pound of pure, dank, love.
But in the same month I ended up being kicked out,
and started depending on the generosity of what few friend's I had left,
and sometimes resorting to sleeping in my mother's Toyota Camry (I had a set of keys to her car and
the house, glad as hell about that)
I continued working, though my number of shifts were diminishing weekly..
And then in December I met my best friend, the Batman to my Robbin.
He said he felt more like my sidekick, but I certainly was the puppy at his feet.
Landry, the love I never got the chance to love..
It started with hanging out every night, we would get a pack of Rolling Rocks
or a few tall cans and go to gated housing communities to use their hot tubs.
We were partners in crime, as we'd often call it.
I was smitten. Entranced even..
He let me stay with him some nights, and then it became every night.
From the first night we talked, not a single day passed that we weren't together.
It was so easy, so simple. No requirements, no stress, no boundaries..
And no secrets.
Needles. He really loved his needles.
His habit didn't scare me, it wasn't disturbing.
It didn't bother me, he seemed so perfect..
Though that in and of itself should have been a dead give away;
Perfect is an illusion, a fantasy.
Therefore my time spent with him was too,
perfect, simply a daydream..
You would have never thought this about him had you been a speed freak yourself.
Social butterfly, perfect manners. He was so smart, ridiculously intelligent for his education level.
The most brilliant computer programmer and hacker I've met.
He could fix ANY thing! Not to mention the most flawless guitar player
I've ever personally witnessed, and I've known a hell of a lot of guitar players.
Sure enough, he loved his Crystal Meth.
Preferably would shoot it, but more frequently he smoked it.
I'd watch him, fascinated.
He had to notice how desperately sedated by him I was..
Just one month, one month and a lifetime.
One early morning he and his friend actually convinced me to take a few hits from their make shift
pookie bong. It didn't take much persuasion.
At that point I was completely convinced that if you had a strong enough mind
you could do that and be just fine, if not better.
After the few hits, I don't remember feeling anything.
Just slightly less tired than I had been.
Later on, the very same day while I was out for just a few
hours, his ex girlfriend came over.
Enmeshment.
So of course they had been shooting up,
honestly I think he truly DID forget I had been living there.
So his friend went into the house, gathered my things from his room,
and came back to the truck. Apologizing for Landry, pleaded with me not to cry.
He offered his truck if I had nowhere else to go.
That week is such a blurry smudge in my mind..
Stayed up for six days, smoked somewhere between four to six grams.
No food, not sure what hydration there was.
On the 7th morning I was lucky, fell asleep on the floor in Landry's bedroom.
Had I not thankfully at the time been at Landry's, I'm positive I would have been left in some
dumpster and eaten by stray cats while still barely alive.
Woke up almost three days later, weighing somewhere around 80lbs and unable to walk,
and I could hardly hold my head up.
There was this shroud, like a thick fog to my vision.
It was painful,
everything was.
I had about a dime or so of the crystal in my purse.
I had Landry cut me a line,
the first and last line of meth I'll ever take.
Then smoked the rest, and I left.
After that I just started smoking bud again.
It felt like years had gone by.
I felt as if I wouldn't be able to stay safe in my hometown after that.
At least not stay clean.
I moved up North for seven months,
experienced Sassafras.
Went through a good few grams of Black Tar in maybe two weeks.
One or Two grams of Cocaine per month.
Started extracting THC Wax.
Began chain smoking again, tobacco, my true love.
I'm summarizing this portion of my life because other than
the substances I was doing,
it's just not relevant or worth it.
That period in my life should not be viewed by anyone
without a degree in psychology.
Then in late July I moved back down to the lovely South Bay.
Smoked a gram of Black Tar to myself.
And managed to run into Landry.
Obviously I was delighted to hear the words
"I'm sorry"
I didn't even care.
I jumped at the chance to hang out with him again.
We drank beer, smoked bud.
We hung out a few more times,
and then I finally did it.
The day before he went on a trip I had him help me pick up
$20 worth of crystal.
We call it dope.
Since that sack I've gone through probably over ten grams of dope.
Smoking often with a friend.
Bust constantly on my own,
I could twist all day or night by myself comfortably.
I have, too many times..
I've gone on several day breaks here and there.
I even had a two week or so break just recently.
I drink so much water I couldn't come close to dehydration.
I eat every day, more than once or twice.
And never ever eat junk food, always fresh fruit, organic
yogurt, lots of organic juices, brown rice and of course tons of vegetables and fish.
I even have my sleep pattern somewhat under control.
But my mind...
That battle, I am finally losing.
*I know it is long, it took me almost four hours to complete*
*I simply needed to write this all out for the first time*
I'll be 20 in April, no longer a teenager yet far from an adult.
Considering the recent acceleration in my mental deterioration, along with my first College
classes starting this Spring, I'd be grateful to make it that far without brandishing a tinfoil cap.
All the psychiatric literature I've read claims that if you are fully aware of your mental inconsistencies,
symptoms like irrational thoughts, paranoid delusions or visual and audible hallucinations,
then you are definitely not Schizophrenic. I suppose I should be content with that.
So my state of being? We'll just call it comfortable psychosis.
I haven't had longer than maybe three or so weeks completely clean and sober since age 13.
I feel as if I've never fully detoxed, not off of everything at least.
It started with the pill cocktails. I had seen at least eight different Psychiatrists between ages
12 and 14,and each one had prescribed an onslaught of mood stabilizers, antidepressants and so on.
My father had passed away when I turned 12, and within that same year I was institutionalized for over a month,
and slapped with the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, of course no one considered simply grief and depression.
I had drawers overflowing with multiple bottles full of things like Lamotrigine, Lithium(yuck!!),
Sertraline, Venlafaxine, Bupropion, Divalproex, Quetiapine, Olanzapine, Risperidone,
Escitalopram, Lorazepam, Alprazolam, Clonazepam, Trazodone..
No one in the family was monitoring my dosing, nor the drawers full of this shit.
Needless to say I was never properly tapered down off these. And I certainly didn't know what
the hellI was doing. It wasn't even so much for fun, I just knew daily ingestion of a few of these
"loopy pills", as I would call them, would more or less keep my mind from implosion.
At age 14 I discovered sweet miss Mary Jane. And with an after school job that became frequent.
Soon followed by alcohol. Whiskey, from the bottle, no chaser.
A warm welcome to the world of booze indeed
And of course when I went off to High School, still just an innocent drunken 15 year old,
there was the explosion of Ecstasy in my hometown (the Port of Los Angeles, for anyone familiar)
And with a close friend always well supplied, so too was I.
That magical year I also discovered that a lovely little tree in my own backyard was capable of
bending the very fibers of reality: Brugmansia, in the very same family as the Datura plants.
Unfortunately I made a highly concentrated batch of tea with it.
Landing myself in an Emergency Room getting my system cleaned out.
Some of my frequent hallucinations and visual issues were caused by that experience,
I'm sure of it. Several things I saw during my "trip" on that tea appear still, almost every other day.
Mostly just silhouettes of black cats. And that crazy continuously morphing oozy kind of way carpets and some upholstery look when your on some hallucinogens?
Apparently it can be permanent sometimes.
After that I never wanted to try LSD, mushrooms, or anything else with the ability to
remove my own physical and mental control, and tear reality right out from under me.
Though I continued to have frequent fun with Ecstasy until 11th grade.
That didn't stop until I had a few Orange Pikachu's one New Years eve that made me
quite seriously think I was dying.
Mind you I've never, ever been the type to freak out internally due to an overwhelming high,
but whatever was in these pills puts Black Tar to shame!
I had no idea what the cabin I was in actually looked like until I leveled out the next day!!
It was like one of those scenes in a horror flick, like a sort of 'fun house' affect,
where everything is just expanding and shrinking, getting reeeeaaallyyyy tall and then
insanely short. Not to mention I've never gone through such nausea in my life,
not from smoking Tar, taking handfuls of Hydrocodone, or even Oxycodone on an empty stomach.
I went through withdrawal from just three of those pills!
It lasted two days, and was almost identical to coming off a Tar bender.
(but at the time I hadn't known that feeling yet)
Somewhere between 10th and 11th grade I began being frequently prescribed Hydrocodones, 10/325mgs.
I have a chronic condition that causes me to be completely immobilized by intense pelvic contractions,
they can come on at any time. Sometimes triggered by physical activity, or extreme stress.
I was finally given the Hydrocodone prescription because luckily for me,
a doctor agreed thatit was absolutely cruel, mindless, inconvenient, and just
damn expensive to be constantly going to Emergency Rooms and
getting IV drips of Morphine and Dilaudid.
Hydrocodones were fun, but I hated how uncomfortable I
would feel after being heavily doped out on them for a week.
Started using my unlimited supply of Hydro's to trade around town,
being able to keep myself happily numbed with Oxycodone and
sometimes Methadones.
Then it was Alprazolam, by the fuckton. I would take it in the morning with my RedBulls, then again
at break before 3rd period,typically a few more at lunch. And then always at least one more after
dismissal. There was a good 8-11 months I was going through roughly 5mg to 14mg a day.
(sometimes it was the footballs, but usually the white "bars")
I didn't stop with that fun little escapade until I somehow managed to
ingest twenty-five footballs in one night. Some were the .5mg, most were the 1mg.
Knocked over my bong, and gave my first and last Macbook Pro a shower, drowning the motherboard.
Needless to say, I took a break from Benzo's after that.
During my adventures on xanax, I had discovered how much I truly loved beer.
Cheap beer, domestic beer, watery Mexican beer, even the weird imported knock off beer the 99 cent store had!
When I stopped taking the pills every day, Mickey's became breakfast, Budweiser and Rolling Rocks for lunch,
and 32's of Corona Familiar for dinner. Or honestly anything besides Budlight.
The drinking continued to be an all day every day thing, from probably March until October 2012.
That covers my birthday, and graduation. Can't remember either for the life of me.
I only cut back when I got a job that October as what we here in California call a Bud Tender.
I worked in a small Medical Dispensary, making $10/hour rolling thousands of joints each shift and
weighing out pound after pound of pure, dank, love.
But in the same month I ended up being kicked out,
and started depending on the generosity of what few friend's I had left,
and sometimes resorting to sleeping in my mother's Toyota Camry (I had a set of keys to her car and
the house, glad as hell about that)
I continued working, though my number of shifts were diminishing weekly..
And then in December I met my best friend, the Batman to my Robbin.
He said he felt more like my sidekick, but I certainly was the puppy at his feet.
Landry, the love I never got the chance to love..
It started with hanging out every night, we would get a pack of Rolling Rocks
or a few tall cans and go to gated housing communities to use their hot tubs.
We were partners in crime, as we'd often call it.
I was smitten. Entranced even..
He let me stay with him some nights, and then it became every night.
From the first night we talked, not a single day passed that we weren't together.
It was so easy, so simple. No requirements, no stress, no boundaries..
And no secrets.
Needles. He really loved his needles.
His habit didn't scare me, it wasn't disturbing.
It didn't bother me, he seemed so perfect..
Though that in and of itself should have been a dead give away;
Perfect is an illusion, a fantasy.
Therefore my time spent with him was too,
perfect, simply a daydream..
You would have never thought this about him had you been a speed freak yourself.
Social butterfly, perfect manners. He was so smart, ridiculously intelligent for his education level.
The most brilliant computer programmer and hacker I've met.
He could fix ANY thing! Not to mention the most flawless guitar player
I've ever personally witnessed, and I've known a hell of a lot of guitar players.
Sure enough, he loved his Crystal Meth.
Preferably would shoot it, but more frequently he smoked it.
I'd watch him, fascinated.
He had to notice how desperately sedated by him I was..
Just one month, one month and a lifetime.
One early morning he and his friend actually convinced me to take a few hits from their make shift
pookie bong. It didn't take much persuasion.
At that point I was completely convinced that if you had a strong enough mind
you could do that and be just fine, if not better.
After the few hits, I don't remember feeling anything.
Just slightly less tired than I had been.
Later on, the very same day while I was out for just a few
hours, his ex girlfriend came over.
Enmeshment.
So of course they had been shooting up,
honestly I think he truly DID forget I had been living there.
So his friend went into the house, gathered my things from his room,
and came back to the truck. Apologizing for Landry, pleaded with me not to cry.
He offered his truck if I had nowhere else to go.
That week is such a blurry smudge in my mind..
Stayed up for six days, smoked somewhere between four to six grams.
No food, not sure what hydration there was.
On the 7th morning I was lucky, fell asleep on the floor in Landry's bedroom.
Had I not thankfully at the time been at Landry's, I'm positive I would have been left in some
dumpster and eaten by stray cats while still barely alive.
Woke up almost three days later, weighing somewhere around 80lbs and unable to walk,
and I could hardly hold my head up.
There was this shroud, like a thick fog to my vision.
It was painful,
everything was.
I had about a dime or so of the crystal in my purse.
I had Landry cut me a line,
the first and last line of meth I'll ever take.
Then smoked the rest, and I left.
After that I just started smoking bud again.
It felt like years had gone by.
I felt as if I wouldn't be able to stay safe in my hometown after that.
At least not stay clean.
I moved up North for seven months,
experienced Sassafras.
Went through a good few grams of Black Tar in maybe two weeks.
One or Two grams of Cocaine per month.
Started extracting THC Wax.
Began chain smoking again, tobacco, my true love.
I'm summarizing this portion of my life because other than
the substances I was doing,
it's just not relevant or worth it.
That period in my life should not be viewed by anyone
without a degree in psychology.
Then in late July I moved back down to the lovely South Bay.
Smoked a gram of Black Tar to myself.
And managed to run into Landry.
Obviously I was delighted to hear the words
"I'm sorry"
I didn't even care.
I jumped at the chance to hang out with him again.
We drank beer, smoked bud.
We hung out a few more times,
and then I finally did it.
The day before he went on a trip I had him help me pick up
$20 worth of crystal.
We call it dope.
Since that sack I've gone through probably over ten grams of dope.
Smoking often with a friend.
Bust constantly on my own,
I could twist all day or night by myself comfortably.
I have, too many times..
I've gone on several day breaks here and there.
I even had a two week or so break just recently.
I drink so much water I couldn't come close to dehydration.
I eat every day, more than once or twice.
And never ever eat junk food, always fresh fruit, organic
yogurt, lots of organic juices, brown rice and of course tons of vegetables and fish.
I even have my sleep pattern somewhat under control.
But my mind...
That battle, I am finally losing.
Last edited:
