Laziness abounds within me, so I basically replicated my post from my other blog. It won't happen again, it just said what I had to say and I liked it.
All I can smell and taste is Altoids Mango Sours. I don’t like carrying spoons around with me, so I cook up in the tops of Altoids tins and leave the candy in them. That way if the cops search me, all I have is clean needles and candy, neither of which is against the law. Hooray for me. The problem is, sometimes the candy melts onto the top of the tin and of course when I’m sick I’m not gonna stop and wash it off (god forbid!) before I pour my shit out into it. I noticed when I was drawing up that my cotton was sticky, but I didn’t really care as I proceeded to do my wake-up shot. Bang bang, started untying the phone charger cord from my arm and waited for the muscle aches to fade. The taste of those fucking mango sours filled my mouth and nose. It got me well, but it’s been about an hour and I can still taste that shit. From now on I’m gonna wash out my tin top before blasting off, unless I’m real real sick and can’t wait the extra 30 seconds.
I'm reading a book called "12-Step Horror Stories" about people who were degraded and humiliated and rejected from AA/NA. It's really great, now I know I'm not the only one who thinks that the 12 steps are a huge pile of shit. I won't deny that they work for some... but they need to admit that they don't work for everyone. Of course they won't. The NAzi's "know" that The NA Way is The Only Way. And if you can get clean without their help, then I guess you were never really an addict to begin with. What a crock.
I’m dreading going to work today. It’s about 230 pm, I just woke up an hour ago and already have a couple dates set up around 4 pm. I could jump in the shower now and do them sooner, but my laziness is taking me over. I don’t even want to shower and wash my ass, that’s how unmotivated I am.
Just wait until you start sniffling again, Michelle. Wait until your stomach ties itself into a knot and won’t let anything in. Then you’ll remember your motivation, your reason for working, your reason for sucking and fucking your way through Friday night. Or maybe you shouldn’t wait until you remember. Maybe you should go out now and save yourself the pain.
It is better not to wait. But I got the confidence and laziness that comes from having another couple bags waiting for me in my purse, and am therefore sitting around the house, updating both my blogs, eating chips, talking on the phone, basically just doing what I did yesterday. Outside of the 2 dope runs I made last night (and they weren’t even really runs, because he delivered to right across the street from my house), I managed to sit inside in my pj’s the whole day long. Well, I also went to one NA meeting but I only go to those to appease the parentals, who are convinced that NA is The Only Way To Stay Clean And Sober. Hell, I’m living in their house. So I don’t complain. I go to the meetings, take my seat, send text-messages for an hour, smoke a cigarette outside while Guys With A Year Or More try to get my phone number, and roll on home. It’s not too much to ask in exchange for rent-free living. I actually did give one NA guy my number, but he didn’t want anything from me that had to do with sobriety. He wanted a date. That’s one of the ones I have set up for myself at 4 pm. God, am I lazy.
Last night, before I went to bed I did 4 bags at once. I don’t know why, it just seemed like a good idea. I’d never done 4 of that shit and I wanted to see what it would do. What happened was, I fell out for a good 3 hours sitting on the closed toilet with my pants up. I woke up leaning against the towel rack with a stream of dried blood dripping from my wrist down around my fingers. Lovely. I must’ve gotten really fucked up, wish I would have been there to enjoy it.
I suppose it’s time to get in the shower, go back to Dixie, and make the money I need to stay well. For me, being hooked on dope is like being at a locked-in carnival. When you first get there, it’s awesome. You can ride all the rides, try all sorts of new stuff, play games, hang with your friends, etc, and you’re having the time of your life. But after being there a while, you start to notice that some of the rides aren’t put together that well, and some of your friends die while riding them. You stand back and see all the imperfections, all the suckiness, all the terror and fear that you’ve been enjoying for so long, and it stops being fun. But you can’t leave. And the rides look so exciting, so tempting, that you stop looking for a door and jump back on the Tilt-A-Whirl with the decision to just ride until you die.
But no one can ride forever.
To the day that we part
From the beginning, right back at the start
There will always be that love for bliss
And unacheivable unfathomed euphoria
To where only you can take me
And yet only you can break me
You are my Savior, my Killer, nothing less
I need a fix, I need to fill that emptiness
You creep around with your scaly self
Seething, burning, making me cry
Writhing, dying, I just wanted to say goodbye
But never just once, you're too precious to waste
Never satisfied by your vile taste
So I lick again, cringe, and trail off into space
Until I'm on the mountaintop
Looking into forever and all
Slipped, and down I fall
But together we'll find the ground
You are my rail and always to my avail
But please don't leave me now
I can make it work somehow
3 weeks ago