It feels like 6 months. 
I don't really know how I am going to get through these next few weeks.
Maybe I will just stick to marijuana. Get stupid, sleepy, hungry, giggly.
Really, what's the point in spending such and such $$$ on oxycodone if I'm just going to be fiending once again when I use what I intended as a week's supply in a matter of 2 or 3 days? Why am I so angry and raging at everyone who doesn't deserve it? Why am I so tired if all I do is sleep?
I have 3 giant bags of laundry to do in addition to my bed linens and comforter... I don't even know if I have the $20 dollars to spare to do laundry. I'm so filthy I don't even feel human. I'm so cold also. My neck is killing me. Apparently having cysts in your neck is not a big deal. I really dislike Indian doctors. I'm sorry, I don't know what it is, but I always feel dismissed by them. Perhaps it's a cultural thing. Perhaps they see people who are not Indian as lab rats and guinea pigs. Perhaps I just have come across a couple of shitty doctors who all happened to be Indian which causes confirmation bias.
My grades haven't come in yet. I'm slightly worried about my film class. Perhaps the Professor will feel generous this holiday season and throw me a C out of the pure kindness of his heart. Ha, ha.
I have enough Wellbutrin and Cymbalta in my closet to kill an elephant. Perhaps I should take it. Not all of it... just as it was intended. I never liked the feeling of antidepressants. The one I really, gung-ho tried was Paxil. I slept all day and puked practically everything I ate. It wasn't pretty. Like, I vomited in my plate at Denny's. It could have just been the Denny's but it was happening all the time. I didn't really care though.
Paroxetine works on the serotonin receptors whereas Wellbutrin, I believe, works on the dopamine receptors. I don't know what the fuck Cymbalta does. I'm just pretty scared about the whole antidepressant thing. What the fuck will it do to me this time? At least I know what recreational drugs *DO* ... Gah, I don't want to start ranting for fear I may not stop...
Anyway, the only thing I'm looking forward to is a WWE Wrestling event I'm going to on the 27th. That was our big Xmas gift -- floor seats, bitches! I remember watching it when I was a kid with my dad. Back during the Monday Night Wars between WWF and WCW. I just got back into WWE over the summer. I was like... dude, I need a hobby. Oh, I know, I will watch hot sweaty men in tights throw each other around! That was always fun! Yay Xmas. :D
Although, considering the fact that I'm Jewish, all this Christmas hoopla has always been meshuggah to me. Not that I celebrate Chanukah either. There's not really much I care about. I'm too empathetic and I can't handle it right now. I have to take care of myself.
I'm supposed to go to a friend's house to celebrate Christmas and bring food and alcohol and pot but I don't have any fucking money and she's just going to bitch at me if I don't go but my brother and girlfriend don't want to go so... what the fuck do I do? I think the most logical thing would be to tell her I can't make it. She's like, "Bring shrimp, bring this, bring that" and I'm like, If you haven't noticed I'm fucking broke and can't afford to feed someone else's family, you thick bitch... I'm in the middle of trying to avoid an eviction, not trying to feed you shrimp... Jesus fuck, she's probably the stupidest and most selfish person on Earth but she's utterly clueless about it... Or so she acts. Leeches, all of them...
Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.
I really think I'm going to try an NA meeting... try to suspend my disbelief long enough to possibly get something out of it. But I don't know. I need to find another job, though. That's for sure... Fucking stupid ass store... I don't need to deal with that. Let's see if I even get my paycheck for the 2 nights I worked. So pathetic. I couldn't even hack it. It was depressing as fuck. At least I didn't shit my pants! 8)
Anyway. Time to try and eat dinner... without getting nauseous.
HOW DO PEOPLE EAT AFTER USING OPIATES?? I feel like my stomach isn't the same.
I don't really know how I am going to get through these next few weeks.
Maybe I will just stick to marijuana. Get stupid, sleepy, hungry, giggly.
Really, what's the point in spending such and such $$$ on oxycodone if I'm just going to be fiending once again when I use what I intended as a week's supply in a matter of 2 or 3 days? Why am I so angry and raging at everyone who doesn't deserve it? Why am I so tired if all I do is sleep?
I have 3 giant bags of laundry to do in addition to my bed linens and comforter... I don't even know if I have the $20 dollars to spare to do laundry. I'm so filthy I don't even feel human. I'm so cold also. My neck is killing me. Apparently having cysts in your neck is not a big deal. I really dislike Indian doctors. I'm sorry, I don't know what it is, but I always feel dismissed by them. Perhaps it's a cultural thing. Perhaps they see people who are not Indian as lab rats and guinea pigs. Perhaps I just have come across a couple of shitty doctors who all happened to be Indian which causes confirmation bias.
My grades haven't come in yet. I'm slightly worried about my film class. Perhaps the Professor will feel generous this holiday season and throw me a C out of the pure kindness of his heart. Ha, ha.
I have enough Wellbutrin and Cymbalta in my closet to kill an elephant. Perhaps I should take it. Not all of it... just as it was intended. I never liked the feeling of antidepressants. The one I really, gung-ho tried was Paxil. I slept all day and puked practically everything I ate. It wasn't pretty. Like, I vomited in my plate at Denny's. It could have just been the Denny's but it was happening all the time. I didn't really care though.
Paroxetine works on the serotonin receptors whereas Wellbutrin, I believe, works on the dopamine receptors. I don't know what the fuck Cymbalta does. I'm just pretty scared about the whole antidepressant thing. What the fuck will it do to me this time? At least I know what recreational drugs *DO* ... Gah, I don't want to start ranting for fear I may not stop...
Anyway, the only thing I'm looking forward to is a WWE Wrestling event I'm going to on the 27th. That was our big Xmas gift -- floor seats, bitches! I remember watching it when I was a kid with my dad. Back during the Monday Night Wars between WWF and WCW. I just got back into WWE over the summer. I was like... dude, I need a hobby. Oh, I know, I will watch hot sweaty men in tights throw each other around! That was always fun! Yay Xmas. :D
Although, considering the fact that I'm Jewish, all this Christmas hoopla has always been meshuggah to me. Not that I celebrate Chanukah either. There's not really much I care about. I'm too empathetic and I can't handle it right now. I have to take care of myself.
I'm supposed to go to a friend's house to celebrate Christmas and bring food and alcohol and pot but I don't have any fucking money and she's just going to bitch at me if I don't go but my brother and girlfriend don't want to go so... what the fuck do I do? I think the most logical thing would be to tell her I can't make it. She's like, "Bring shrimp, bring this, bring that" and I'm like, If you haven't noticed I'm fucking broke and can't afford to feed someone else's family, you thick bitch... I'm in the middle of trying to avoid an eviction, not trying to feed you shrimp... Jesus fuck, she's probably the stupidest and most selfish person on Earth but she's utterly clueless about it... Or so she acts. Leeches, all of them...
Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.
I really think I'm going to try an NA meeting... try to suspend my disbelief long enough to possibly get something out of it. But I don't know. I need to find another job, though. That's for sure... Fucking stupid ass store... I don't need to deal with that. Let's see if I even get my paycheck for the 2 nights I worked. So pathetic. I couldn't even hack it. It was depressing as fuck. At least I didn't shit my pants! 8)
Anyway. Time to try and eat dinner... without getting nauseous.
HOW DO PEOPLE EAT AFTER USING OPIATES?? I feel like my stomach isn't the same.
