I'm__Broken__
Bluelighter
(This seemed to be the most appropriate forum, apologies to mods if it doesn't fit here...free free to move (I know you will!)
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James squinted the way he always did, as the fresh needle effortlessy penetrated his skin. A popping sensation, discernable not in his ears but in his head pushed his anticipation to boiling point. Fighting to keep his hand from shaking, he slowly moved inward, exploring the lower layers of flesh with his steel probe. Then, the way it always happened when he hadn't indulged in some time, a skinny but firm plume of red squirted into the barrel of the syringe. Time stood still for a fraction of a second as the blood slowed it's motion, and began to carefully snake it's way upward in a spiral motion. For this second, James was a fucking hero, perhaps to noone but himself. But noone else mattered, for this was his moment. He had tapped the sacred reserve, and once again was about to reap the indescribable rewards.
Pulling back on the plunger, he immediately saw a much darker pool of red form at the base of the syringe, and with a finely honed reflex tuned to respond to this very sight, he pressed steadily down with his thumb.
............................................................................................................................................................
40, 30, 20.....Fuck.....heart beats even faster....20....I can taste it now, it's in the back of my throat and it's fucking disgusting and delicious, the sickest kind of satisfaction that I know. 10, bang, it's all in, signalled by a little squirting noise that's happened every time I've banged but I've never thought to question what it actually is, cause I could give a fuck right at that moment. At any other time it would be quite repellant, but fuck it, because I'm starting to get there. My chest gets an instant warmth and the rush of excitement and pleasure builds and overcomes all other sensation, albeit briefly.
And then I'm there. This is how the best ones always go, that rush accompanied by the egotistical self satisfaction that I've made the right choice, of course it was the right choice, how could I have ever doubted it? What feeling of doubt or hesitation could ever compare to this, the ultimate dopamine-fuelled reassurance that no matter what the fuck is happening around you, it's always this easy to escape it for a while. And to make it not matter. It doesn't matter.
Everything is tingling from my chest outwards in some sort of perverted, extended orgasm cascading over my extremities. Thoughts of music and fucking combine into the most hedonistic mind adventures possible, concepts ideas and fantasies flying into my mind all with equal consideration; complete yet destined to be lost and replaced with something equally as twisted and certainly just as fleeting.
As things begin to slow down to a sprinting pace, I realise what I've done and love myself for it. An unpleasantries that may be encountered 24 hours down the track are not erased from my memory. They are present, somewhere. But they don't fucking matter one bit.
I stride out of the service station toilet, perhaps a little too joyfully, I was trying to be subtle. But fuck it, why should I disguise the pure exhilaration that's colouring the moment? I smile at the attendant, and thank her for the use of her facilities. I know she knows, it's in her disapproving glance and the icy chill of her reply, pretending it's no problem when it clearly irks her to know that some unassuming-looking guy just used her workplace as his own private shooting gallery. But she matters not, and as I stride to my car she is already forgotten and thoughts turn to the night ahead.
I'm glad I bought 5 needles.
substancecode_methamphetamine
substancecode_amphetamines
______________________________________________________________
James squinted the way he always did, as the fresh needle effortlessy penetrated his skin. A popping sensation, discernable not in his ears but in his head pushed his anticipation to boiling point. Fighting to keep his hand from shaking, he slowly moved inward, exploring the lower layers of flesh with his steel probe. Then, the way it always happened when he hadn't indulged in some time, a skinny but firm plume of red squirted into the barrel of the syringe. Time stood still for a fraction of a second as the blood slowed it's motion, and began to carefully snake it's way upward in a spiral motion. For this second, James was a fucking hero, perhaps to noone but himself. But noone else mattered, for this was his moment. He had tapped the sacred reserve, and once again was about to reap the indescribable rewards.
Pulling back on the plunger, he immediately saw a much darker pool of red form at the base of the syringe, and with a finely honed reflex tuned to respond to this very sight, he pressed steadily down with his thumb.
............................................................................................................................................................
40, 30, 20.....Fuck.....heart beats even faster....20....I can taste it now, it's in the back of my throat and it's fucking disgusting and delicious, the sickest kind of satisfaction that I know. 10, bang, it's all in, signalled by a little squirting noise that's happened every time I've banged but I've never thought to question what it actually is, cause I could give a fuck right at that moment. At any other time it would be quite repellant, but fuck it, because I'm starting to get there. My chest gets an instant warmth and the rush of excitement and pleasure builds and overcomes all other sensation, albeit briefly.
And then I'm there. This is how the best ones always go, that rush accompanied by the egotistical self satisfaction that I've made the right choice, of course it was the right choice, how could I have ever doubted it? What feeling of doubt or hesitation could ever compare to this, the ultimate dopamine-fuelled reassurance that no matter what the fuck is happening around you, it's always this easy to escape it for a while. And to make it not matter. It doesn't matter.
Everything is tingling from my chest outwards in some sort of perverted, extended orgasm cascading over my extremities. Thoughts of music and fucking combine into the most hedonistic mind adventures possible, concepts ideas and fantasies flying into my mind all with equal consideration; complete yet destined to be lost and replaced with something equally as twisted and certainly just as fleeting.
As things begin to slow down to a sprinting pace, I realise what I've done and love myself for it. An unpleasantries that may be encountered 24 hours down the track are not erased from my memory. They are present, somewhere. But they don't fucking matter one bit.
I stride out of the service station toilet, perhaps a little too joyfully, I was trying to be subtle. But fuck it, why should I disguise the pure exhilaration that's colouring the moment? I smile at the attendant, and thank her for the use of her facilities. I know she knows, it's in her disapproving glance and the icy chill of her reply, pretending it's no problem when it clearly irks her to know that some unassuming-looking guy just used her workplace as his own private shooting gallery. But she matters not, and as I stride to my car she is already forgotten and thoughts turn to the night ahead.
I'm glad I bought 5 needles.
substancecode_methamphetamine
substancecode_amphetamines
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