I'll come out and say it; I've been feeling sad lately. I normally hold bloggers who whinge hedonistically in contempt but i'm starting to see the value in doing them. Where else can I write what's happening in my life candidly almost like a journal but with the possibility that hundreds of strangers might see it on the internet? The future, it's a wonderful thing.
So, I've been discovered "using" again. I live at home. The anxiety and terror in my parents eyes is devastating when we try to discuss why and how I do drugs. Before I paint an uglier picture than you might be concocting; I'm not mixing meth and heroin into speedballs and waking up to crawling bugs under my skin. I'm a habitual codeine indulger, pot smoker, and psychedelic experimenter. Do I have a dependence on drugs? Yes. Have they fucked up my life? As any frequent drug user would probably say; I don't think so. How can you tell? How do I know I didn't land that job because my otherwise pervasive anxiety wasn't dulled so well by the small dose of codeine I took before the interview? Yet how do I know if it's the codeine which simultaneously is making me look like an uninterested, "to-easy-going" slob?
How do I know, from my own experience, if I'd be happier in the long run completely sober? Intellectually, it makes sense. But the holes I fill with substances, cannot be filled by another; they can only be filled by myself. And, whilst it seems paradoxical, the sickness I feel living in this world whilst sober seems to confronting; honestly, frightening; and not just from an intellectual standpoint. I can feel the sickness of the world in my bones. Perhaps some people wake up everyday and without knowing it, involuntarily, have already swallowed the red pill - and the rest of the day is a fight not to get some blue pills to balance out this most cruel and burdening of gifts.
So, I've been discovered "using" again. I live at home. The anxiety and terror in my parents eyes is devastating when we try to discuss why and how I do drugs. Before I paint an uglier picture than you might be concocting; I'm not mixing meth and heroin into speedballs and waking up to crawling bugs under my skin. I'm a habitual codeine indulger, pot smoker, and psychedelic experimenter. Do I have a dependence on drugs? Yes. Have they fucked up my life? As any frequent drug user would probably say; I don't think so. How can you tell? How do I know I didn't land that job because my otherwise pervasive anxiety wasn't dulled so well by the small dose of codeine I took before the interview? Yet how do I know if it's the codeine which simultaneously is making me look like an uninterested, "to-easy-going" slob?
How do I know, from my own experience, if I'd be happier in the long run completely sober? Intellectually, it makes sense. But the holes I fill with substances, cannot be filled by another; they can only be filled by myself. And, whilst it seems paradoxical, the sickness I feel living in this world whilst sober seems to confronting; honestly, frightening; and not just from an intellectual standpoint. I can feel the sickness of the world in my bones. Perhaps some people wake up everyday and without knowing it, involuntarily, have already swallowed the red pill - and the rest of the day is a fight not to get some blue pills to balance out this most cruel and burdening of gifts.
I'd do a blog of my own if I could put my thoughts into words like that!