there is no in-between for me

I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me. That's a lie. I like the drugs plenty. Quitting drugs is harder than leaving a long relationship. You know it's unhealthy, you know nothing good can come of it but if I put all the dope and coke and crack and bong-hits aside, the world would be a different place. MY world would be a different place. Will it be better in the long run, and even if so, what about the short term? Can I really walk out of this detox and never pick up another bag of heroin? Never again hit a crack stem or a joint or anything that enhances my lonely existance and gives me something to look forward to? I guess I'm sitting on the pity pot. The sick has mostly passed, but now I'm facing months of discomfort, insomnia, restlessness, shaking, boredom, and basically feeling wrong and bad. Like right now as I type this, it's about 80 degrees and I'm shivering bad every few seconds. I can't function without my opiates. Is this what I want? Or do I want to roll back to where I was before entering this detox, waking up sick and only having that one wake-up shot to screw my head on right 15 minutes before my rent is due? There is no in-between for me, I'm a full-fledged heroin addict.

If I really clean up my act- no heroin at all- I can move. I'd be free from the H-ball and chain and could leave without having to worry about enough to last for the trip plus the time it would take to find a good h source wherever I go. Even if I only move to Miami, it's still a change of scenery.

But it's a conundrum. What would be the point of having gone through all this pain, sickness, sweat, tears, seizures, torture, and boredom if I'm just gonna fall of the wagon right when I first get out? Why bother staying till tommorrow if I'm gonna hit the strip and call [dopegirl's name deleted] the second I arrive?

I have a feeling that when I write my next post, I'll be high on heroin. That thought kind of depresses me, but it's just facing reality. At least they just gave me my valium.

the pokey bloody goodness

I'm in detox, woohoo! Actually it's a big flaming fiery hell. When I first got here, I slept for 10 hours and woke up wishing for death. They couldn't give me meds because I was just puking em up non stop, so I ended up with 4 needles in the butt. Then my face muscles locked up and my whole face turned to the right. My tongue tried to force itself into the back of my throat and I was talking like a Down's syndrome patient. God damn that shit was scary.

This is like... day four. When I first came in here, I was determined that I was gonna do the right thing. Hell, I wanted it more than anything!! Anything was better than the way I was living: sharing a motel room with someone I don't even like just because he had a car and didn't ask me for crack or heroin ever. Tricking on the streets, well I might keep that one because the money is so farkin' good. But I was sick of the sick. WAS... now that's the key word in that sentence.

Now I can't wait for the pokey bloody goodness that accompanies a big shot of heroin. Maybe it'll go away after I totally get well, or maybe not. Either way if worst comes to worst, I can always kill myself. KIDDING!!! Just kidding!!! Or is that just what I want people to believe? Bwahahahahaha!!!! God, I'm such a goof nugget sometimes, no?

So now I'm stuck. I don't want to be a junkie ass addict again, but I can't imagine doing ANYTHING that involves leaving the house without a shot first. Maybe I could start doing it only on weekends? Hah, that's a funny joke. Maybe I'm in the wrong business, I should be a stand up comic, because that was such a funny joke. Me... as in Michelle Angelina... using heroin... just on weekends? Fucking stupidly hilarious, but also very sad. I'm looking so forward to getting a bag. I got either 3 or 4 more days, then I hit the strip and start the fuck over. It's a depressing situation.

But fuck depression. I can overcome it and if I need chemical assistance then so be it. I might write again before I leave detox but probably not. This is my room mate's laptop that I'm typing on right now.

sick, depressed, and miserable

Yo, it's me...

I know I haven't written in a minute. I got thrown out of where I was living for using heroin. Imagine that. So I moved into a shitty motel in Lantana, the town right south of Lake Worth. I was living there with a guy I don't even like to split the rent and even with that I barely got my rent payed. I spent 20 hours of the day sleeping and when I was awake I was constantly sticking myself with needles until (duh) my veins went away. I got none left. My last hit of my whole life was a skin-pop.

Yeah, my last hit. I'm going to detox. Again. Maybe it'll work this time because I'm sick, depressed, and miserable. I haven't been able to really get out of bed for days, except to go do Extacy and shoot benzos with this awesome guy I met on Opiophile. Well he didn't shoot benzos, but he gave me the benzos to shoot.

I don't think I've ever hated my life more than I do right now.