Assorted Details in Meth Addiction

[Joey]

June 24, 2020

It’s just after 8AM. Not a very productive night yet again. I’ve been associating with the “Shadow People”, and I’ve been engaging in some nihilistic, “fuck you”, fucked up psychosis / word salad shit all night.

It’s been a long run. My new batch (of meth) is potent. I’m back to square one in regards to how high I’m getting. I’m also losing myself. I'm deteriorating mentally so that my thought and behavioural dysfunction is becoming automatic, instantaneous, and far more extreme with even a single hit. I’d better find a way to get a grip, lest I flunk out again.

Alien. Hominid. Primal. Pychotic. Twist myself to mal-instinctual corruption. Ad hominem fuckup forever.

I need beers to calm my nerves. I need to start taking my meds. I could say that all day in a reasonable, more level way.

Hopelessly lost in addiction, I trudge forward down the hills of despair, bygone. Past my shadows into the bottom of my life, base. I head unknowing into a light which shines in, rather than out into a bright future.

I see that there is a light. It shines on me. I’m highlighted grotesquely. Down low in my place, Im so high that reflection can’t be followed. Nothing’s shone out to brighten the daze ahead, so no day ahead is to be mine. The rays bore inside and told me Im to die. The shadows still whisper out, inside. Im going to die. Im going to DIE!

I’ve had it all backward people. The colour of your being, and life itself fades with progress. We regress forward to nothing. At least I do.

I regress forward to nothing.

--------------------------------------------------------

(ill post more in future posts)

 

[Joey]

September 7, 2020

It is 2:45AM on Monday morning. Monday, September 7, 2020, at 2:45AM. That is the time. That is the time indeed.

I feel OK.

I tried an experiment with rinsing out my pipes with a bit of water, laying it all out on a plate and running that solution in the oven on LOW for awhile: I actually wound up with a bit of greyish powder, which I’m assuming is pure meth. I can’t wait to tell my professors. Oh me, oh my! 4.0 GPA!

“I inject the meth and it makes me high like a rocket”

Alex S (2020), ‘Studies of a Junk Fuck’ pg.31

Yeah.
With a side of orange marmalade.
Orange Marmalade
Or ange Mar Ma Lade
It’s sweet.

I feel about as proud of myself as anyone else would. That’s a given, seeing that perceived success is just that. Perceived by others.

If they think I’m being an idiot, I’m untrustworthy, or I’m just a loser, then that’s what I am. We individually don’t get to live our own legacies before we die. We don’t spell out our own eulogies, or decide our reputation.

For a “conscious” and “self aware” species, we sure don’t know how to create our lives for ourselves or keep our memories. Our memories fracture with time and fade with age. Even if we got to write our own stories, it wouldn’t be a full account. Or an account of the absolute truth.

 

[Joey]

April 29, 2020

I was rinsing out some creamed corn from a can. Then I missed some kernels cleaning the sink out. It was cataclysmic. The calamity this has caused is far beyond COVID-19 in scale. It was far, far more overpowering than the bubonic plague.

(note feb11/2021: I got in trouble for leaving the sink dirty that day)

 

[Joey]

October 12, 2020

My time on Bluelight has been about the majority of my time in life lately. I spend hours, and hours, and hours! My time is being pissed away blue on bluelight, and it's funny as fuck.

Someday I will find myself. Someday I'll find myself man! I'm about to do a needle, shortly (within 5 hours) of my first shift. It's the [cant read my own writing] though not Friday unfortunately.

So it is the 12th of October in the year of our Lord, 2020. Prithee! I pray for thee to stop the madness!

October 13, 2020

I feel somewhat euphoric and warm. I'm sweating down my forehead and sides of my face. I feel tense, anxious, alert to the point of hypervigilance. But only to shit that's going on inside my head. I am afraid for how my first day will go at my new job. I just took seroquel so I'm hoping that will calm the rougher, more psychotic aspects of this trip I'm on. Crystal meth is a trip of its own man. It's a trip of the speed variety.

Not psychedelic. Not even to a minor level like a strong dose of marijuana. It's something else entirely. More like a deleriant like belladonna or pharmaceutically gravol/benadryl in the sense of pure delusion. Except it's so much clearer then that, and it's an inside job. It changes parts of who you are inside, and retains just enough to make it feel like it's some reality. I know it's an alternate, yet here it is all the same.

Eventually I hear voices. I have suspicions of everyone, everywhere. I can actually have distortions in my vision that are crystal clear, yet so obviously fucked in quick retrospect. Thinking back a second.

 

[Joey]

This thread is partially dumping my personal journals on the site, and also meant to be an account of how screwed up it is to be on meth so maybe someone will look at this and be repulsed, think twice about using crystal after reading this.

I will most likely be moving this to profile posting once that's a thing though. This could get long, I have about 6 or 7 notebooks full of this shit.

 

[cduggles]

I am enjoying your writing, Outlier. Please carry on if you like.

 

[Specified]

yeah carry on. I too, spend hours upon hours on bluelight while on meth.

I should actually do something more constructive next time I use, If I decide to use. Like clean my room

 

[Joey]

Unknown Date Late 2020

There is no amount of alcohol
No substance intoxicating enough
No limit to level to
No bar high enough
No high good enough
To make me strong enough
To live peacefully
Instead I'm in pieces
Absolutely obliterated
All the time



I've been in places where I can't have been
The scenery I remember so vaguely
Brightly seen - forgotten - I'm not so bright
I relive the memories, ever changing
The current day is now past
A past ever changing, the same scenery
Every day I'm here, gone out back
Taken aback
I'm ever changing my new days in place
For old ones
I don't remember anymore than one
remembers his own birth
Or death
Always somewhere in the middle is the
Changing realities of the day
More of the same differences
It's different each day
Always the same
Always insane with
PTSD

 

[Joey]

April 26, 2018

I am at church. For real, I'm at church. First time in 10 years, first time voluntarily. It is about 20 after 11AM. Sunday, April 26, 2018. I walked in on a prayer. Now there is an organ playing and a singer is up front on the mic. Female. Elderly with short and curly, white hair.

The rest of the entry is really sad. I describe the service and all my thoughts. At the end I asked the priest for advice and he totally ignored me. Probably because I was raggedy and an obvious druggie high as a kite. I was totally out of my mind at the time and after the service I write for pages about the saga I was having with my spying, hacking neighbours. Meth delusion.