the beginning of the end

Today is my first day not going to the methadone clinic. I feel like hell and never sleep, but at least it can finally fucking end. Wish me luck.

To entertain you now that I can post pics, here are some of Jasmyne eating her solid food for the first time which were taken a few weeks back. I started her on solids late because I wanted to, before anyone asks, and she now eats rice, peas, and carrots. Next: sweet potatoes.

started seeing a bunch of bikers and rednecks

^ ^ ^ !!!PICTURES!!! ^ ^ ^

I been feeling crappy as hell lately, need a damn increase on my 'done or a bag or something and not doing any of it. Today I did nothing but lay around the house and try to sleep, I guess each day is getting worse but until today I was getting out and doing things. I dunno when I updated last (and don't feel like stopping to check) so I'll just start with the weekend.

Saturday I went to a stretching/exercise class with my mom, it was kinda fun but I'm not super flexible (although I can put my feet behind my head, ha) so some of the stretches hurt like hell. The lady said that I'd only be able to do the class for a couple months tops because my belly will start to get way too much in the way. Then we went to the zoo over by Summit and Parker. It was fun and distracting, looking at the animals. I've been there tons of times (I've been in Florida for a long fucking time) but this time I seen the black bears and the huge scary looking tiger right up close. Also a couple of gigantic rats- which reminds me, I just finished watching Alvin and the Chipmunks ("They're not kids, they're rats!". There was this turtle that was flipped over onto it's back, and me and 3 others were all crowded around the reptile tank cheering it on while it tried to get back the right way. It would wiggle around for a minute, then get tired and lay there with it's head in the water (it had a super fucking long neck), then start wiggling around again. Finally it righted itself and everybody was like, hooray! Stupid, I know, but who cares? It was fun without drugs. I don't have any pics of that, but I have pics from the next day.

Sunday I was real sick, and pissed off. Greg picked me up and gave me a percocet, left over from the ones I was prescribed back when I broke my elbow. [Yeah- I had some left. Lemme guess- "bullshit!" right?] Then we wandered around John Prince Park and started seeing a bunch of motorcycles and bikers and rednecks so we wondered what the hell was going on. Turns out, there was a chili cookoff going on, which explains the rednecks, and it was sponsored by Harley, which explains the bikers. They had 12 different chili booths lined up and were selling cups for a buck apiece (we got 12 cups for ten bucks) and each cup comes with a ticket. The basic idea is to try chili from all the different booths and then the ones you like, you put a ticket in a box with the name of the chili on it. Between the percocet and the pot I was cool, so Greg and I proceeded to try all the chilis. We would each get one, eat half the cup, then trade. The only exception was when a chili was too hot, since I have ulcers, he would eat em after I tried a couple spoonfuls. We each tried each one though, and then threw tickets in the good boxes.

I do have pics from the chili cookoff, up at the top. I tried putting the pics down here, but they all went to the top. Nothin a bitch can do, especially someone like me who is basically computer illiterate. Damn these pics are uploading slow. Then, after a couple hours of eating chili and smoking and being in the sun, we passed out in the back of the camper. I got my first tan of the spring- I'm so damn white that the only way I tan is if I get a sunburn because after 1 or 2 days it fades into a tan. If I don't burn, I'm albino-looking. Well, I guess SoFla albinos still look tan to everyone else, right? But down here it's a different standard, so it's good to be Florida tan again.

Today I was real sick, and didn't do fuck. Greg is painting my folks' house- its a weeklong job. Nice, huh? Hope we don't get sick of each other : ) By the way, all pictures here are taken by Greg, who is a much better photographer than anyone else (one reason the pic of me and Lucas came out so shitty- Greg didn't take it).

"There's a hole in the world like a big black pit, and it's filled with people that are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it." That's Johnny Depp playing Sweeny Todd- what a great fucking movie! An R-rated musical, in Goth-looking London, directed by Tim Burton, starring Johnny Depp as a vengeance-crazed murderer! What the hell else could I want in a flick?

$$QUICK REPLIES$$ <---cuz I am tired of typing

neely- Thanks.

anon 1- "My grandmother was a typical white person" -Barak Hussein Obama. My grandmother's sisters' husband's dog can't discuss politics, but even if he could- why would I listen to him? He's just a dog. Just like I'm just a junkie, so you shouldn't listen to me. Don't take everything so goddamn seriously! Wow!

anon 2- True.

victoria- I don't mind the haters. Have you seen my hit counter? The haters are hooking me up with hits and interesting shit to read. I encourage it by responding to them, you should try it- it's fun. I'm FINALLY tan for the first time since Christmas (our Christmas is like summer in the north, for real). I'm not writing baby name online cause I've picked 2, a boy and a girl name, but they are special to me so I'm not gonna write it for the haters to read ya know? Email me and I'll tell you though just keep it off the internet k?

anon 3- Heroin addicts are all psycho- that doesn't mean other people aren't.

taxitalk- Thanks for the encouragement. I'm staying away from the dope, it's just harder than I thought it would be, ya know? I want this kid to be ok, he/she's gotta overcome a lot of obstacles already.

anon 4- I got stoned as fuck yesterday too...

cocaine princess- The haters make me laugh- I'd rather respond to them than ignore them.

boston joe- Keep up the good work. Obama sucks. He would be great in Hollywood, as a movie star- thats what I think.

anon 5- I say I'm KINDA racist cause that's how I am. "White power" people will hate someone just because they are black. I don't have a problem with blacks- I just hate niggers. Lots of blacks are niggers, but not all niggers are black. Hell, there's white niggers and spanish niggers and probably asian niggers, although I've never personally met one (then again, I don't live in a really asian-intensive area). Barak is a nigger. Lil Wayne is most definitely a nigger!!!! Do you think I care what he'd appreciate? Do you think Lil Wayne will ever read this? NO! I like lots of music where I don't like the band or singer or rapper or whatever. I don't like the guys from Metallica, but I still like their music. I hate niggers, but I like some rap. Is that a problem? Don't take shit so seriously. My racism will never affect you- I don't run shit. I bet you don't even live in my town! 9th grade? I graduated #1 in my class- I know, I know "bullshit! you never graduated! blah!" Though to be honest, it was a graduating class of 7!

libby- Thanks! Now I can pretend I voted. BTW where in hell is Punta Gorda? Did you know that means "fat point"? I'm in Palm Beach County...

TO ALL MY HATERS- If I'm so worthless and racist and whorish and junked out and no one cares what I think- why did my hit counter pass 1000 in 1 month? Huh? I put that fucker up on March 15th and it's currently at 1,237! In your face, haters!

"if they're dead, I can get the rest of their shit"

That's too much shit to reply to, but yeah. Appreciate all the love and hate and support and criticism and accusations and whatnot. Hooray for popularity/infamy! What I will say is that Greg ("the pimp" to use flamerese) is doing some sort of job in another town in Florida and will be back tomorrow. There really isn't much construction work right now in SoFla, because there's so much shit already built that no one will buy or even rent. Everyone is trying to get the fuck out of here cause living here costs a damn fortune, even in the hood. So no, my man didn't run out on me. He's contributing to the cause of Shelley and Greggie not being broke anymore. Hooray for "the pimp"! Also, I really am pregnant, don't much care whether you believe it or not, and am desperately trying to quit partying. I'm just stuck like chuck.

So I made it a whole 5 days with no heroin! Lil bit of booze, lil bit of pills (weak ones, just to take the edge off cause w/d is bad for pregnant bitches), tons and tons of weed- but no dope or coke or crack [the "majors"]. I was truly proud of myself. Then I fucked it up. The problem with me is, it's all or nothing. I'll stay clean for a minute, but when I "relapse" (I wasn't exactly in a program, so I dunno if it's a relapse) I don't just do 1 or 2 bags. I did 13
bags (1 buy and 2 "gifts") and woke up the next morning still high- for a little bit. Then I started slipping into hell. I was S I C K. Wanted to die, but I would never actually kill myself. Talk about it sometimes when I'm hurting real bad, but I'm too scared to do it. I don't want to go to hell.

I stayed clean (with the help of loricets and valium) the whole fucking day, and Thursday too. Friday I bought 3 bags and did 'em up real quick, resisting the urge to buy more more more. Right when I got it, I was shaking and dry heaving so I hauled ass to one of the "spots" around the city, more specifically the one by [you didn't think I was stupid enough to post the exact locations of the local shooting galleries, did you?] and I knocked first, but no one answered (it's not a person's house or anything) so I went in and I see this couple, Tony and Olivia, that I have known for a long time (I guess you could call 'em friends, it's more like we look out for each other on the street what with exchanging connections, giving each other free bags/hits, ya know, street friends). In fact, Olivia is one of the only 3 Dixie hoes I can stand to be in the same room with. But anyway they are both big-time junkies, way the fuck worse than me. WAY THE FUCK WORSE.

I open the door of the "spot" and both Tony and Olivia are flopped on the ground in weird angles, passed the fuck out, needles sticking out their arms. I thought they were both dead, I about had a fucking heart attack. And you know the first thought that went through my mind? "If they're dead, I can get the rest of their shit- it's obviously fire." I am a sick, sick, person, no? I got rid of that thought as quickly as it came and went over to see if they were ok. Both were breathing, both had pulses, so I shook 'em awake.

me: yo, baby, baby, wake up, you don't even know what you look like right now! you gotta get outta here!
olivia: wha? where?
me: you guys nodded out in [the junkie spot].
o: no fucking way what time is it?
me: about 11am
tony: bullshit! we got here at 7.
me: you know what, you are SO fucking lucky that it was me who found you. First off, could've been police. If it wasn't police, it would have been someone that would call the police over shit like that. If it was another junky, you would've been robbed. So you better be thanking god that I'm the one who found y'all.
o: [checks her bra and counts her dope bags to insure that I indeed didn't steal any] good lookin' out.
me: hey, you can look out for me?
t: give her one, hon

So I got a free bag out of it, and I almost ended up on the floor of the spot with the needle sticking out my own hand. The dope they get doesn't fuck around, and they won't introduce anyone to their guy because lots of junkies go through them and have to give them a free bag, and also it makes sure that they are always buying quantity from the same guy so he gives them free bags too. I gotta give props, cause that's selfish but it's good game (on the street-junkie level, of course). That was a run-on sentence. I like those :)

Lil Wayne- I feel like dying <-------very good song

So I did dope on Friday but not yesterday. Yesterday I suffered through and somehow managed to eat at a buffet- that one took a LOT of weed and xanax and I still only managed 2 small platefuls of some of my all-time favorite foods. Crab legs, cocktail shrimp, sushi, sashimi, teriyaki beef with noodles, hibachi, filet mignon- those are some of my favorite fucking foods in creation. And it was a buffet. And I ate a little bit of sushi, a little bit of shrimp, and some ice cream. THAT'S IT- that is so unlike me. I am a hoglet when it comes to seafood and steak (and sweets, and fried chicken, and fast food, and tacos, and Chinese food, and noodles, and rice with beans, and sodas, and beer, and chocolate or whole milk, and sandwiches especially ham and cheese, and pretty much every kind of food and drink hah).

Last night I had it real rough. I woke up literally screaming 2 or 3 times and had to take a percocet, and when I woke up for good around 7am I had a fucking seizure. Isn't heroin great? So today, I went out determined to get some, although I was much too sick to do a trick and I have no money. I started trudging around Lantana on 3 percocets and a valium and not feeling any of it when I started feeling real shitty so I went and sat by the railroad tracks so if I freaked out no one would see. Then I had another seizure. I came out of that, I had banged my head on the tracks and scratched myself all up in the rocks. I'm starting to forget why I ever started this shit. I had made it all the way to where my dopeman stays, and his truck was there, and I knew knew knew he'd front me whatever I wanted if he saw how I was looking. But I didn't go in. I went back home instead, took another couple percocets, went in a chat room and listened to sirius online.

I can't be a junkie anymore. It's not that I want to stop using heroin, because I really don't, especially when it hurts like THIS to stop. But I can't do it anymore. It's getting to be too much trouble. This past week I've been sick more than I've been well, barely able to sleep- and I'm right where I started because after almost a week, I stuck a fucking needle in my arm. Not once, not twice, but 17 bags. So now it's like the last week of hell doesn't even count, I'm gonna have to start the detox over, I would sell my fucking soul to make it stop. I don't mean "make it stop" like shoot 2 bags, and the pain goes away for a while. I mean "make it stop" like all of it. The shooting, the craving, the puking, the shitting, the pain, the obsession, the insomnia, the shakes, the depression, the screaming, the seizures, the all-encompassing NEED to fill that hole RIGHT FUCKING NOW. It needs to end, and it needs to end now. I don't want to go on methadone, because that'll just drag it out even longer. If I'm gonna be hooked on a drug, and get sick if I stop, and have to go get it every day and pay for it, then I might as well be on heroin cause I can at least enjoy myself when I'm high. I just want to STOP. I'll bring the percs down as slowly as I can handle, and keep plenty of marijuana on hand, and not drink, and not do coke (that would just be a bad idea altogether), and NO MATTER WHAT not do any fucking dope. I can do it. It doesn't matter if I can or not, I goddamn have to.

Shit talkers: ready, aim... FIRE! Can't wait to hear your feedback.

no life baby, we're rehabbed and we're ready
for our fifteen minutes of shame
you and i are on the edge and we're waiting to fall
raised to be stupid, taught to be nothing at all
we're taught to be nothing at all
i don't like the drugs but the drugs like me
don't like the drugs, the drugs, the drugs
i don't like the drugs but the drugs like me
there's a hole in our soul that we fill with dope
and we're feelin' fine
[no, I didn't write those lyrics and don't claim to- it was marilyn manson]

I am gonna get fucking clean, yes I am. No more wishing I didn't have a heroin habit, no more being sick for 2 days then shooting enough dope to kill a small elephant, no more "I'm buying a 50 now, I'll stretch it and quit when it runs out." No more! I'll probably still smoke weed, but I'm gonna ease off the pills until I'm not taking fuckshit! I am gonna goddamn do it! Yes! I have no other option! I am scared shitless, what a pussy I am! Doesn't matter! Pussy or not, here I come!


MICHELLE ANGELINA ****** is going to be clean, motherfucka!

fronts will be the death of me

5 days off heroin.

Listening to Lil Wayne, I think I like everything he's ever done, he's got an awesome voice.

I'm only drinking and smoking too much pot because I'm trying to get through the kick. I'm barely getting through. To all the geniuses who are telling me how bad booze is for pregnant bitches, look up how bad cold-turkey heroin kicks are. Kay? Lay the fuck up off a bitch. Quitting dope when I know I can get some whenever the fuck I want is hard. The big problem? I got dealers that will front. Fronts will be the death of me, especially with cocaine, but with dope it's hard too. Shit, when I call and say I have no money, it sure is nice to hear, "I got you" but it's bad in the fucking long run. Whatever. I'm sick as fuck y'all, so I'm out.

...hours later...

Okay, so I did some heroin. I got a phone call for a little scratch, and the wheels in my head started to spin. I did the date and asked him to drop me off at Winn Dixie so I could buy some needles, then I was gonna call the d-boy and get him to give me a ride home by offering an extra five bucks. No such fucking luck! My date was in a hurry, so he dropped me back where I'm staying and I immediately called dope boy #1, "Jose" [not a real name] since he lives right around where I'm currently staying. He was at work, and it was too early to call anyone else (10am) but I called anyways. Dope boy #2, "Lexus" was not answering, most likely cause it was early as fuck and I think he smokes crack. I called dope boy #3 ("Producer") not expecting him to answer, but he did and agreed to deliver. I went out, gave him my money, and proceeded to lose the shit on the walk back. Glory. Now I'm even sicker than before because I had the shit in my hand and now I have none, and I'm running up and down the street looking at the ground like a crackhead. Did I find it? Of course I found it. I'm a junkie. If I hadn't found it, I'd still be out there, re-tracing my steps. No fucking lie.

So, no needles, but I'm sick as fuck and couldn't care less. Up the nose it went, a bag in each nostril. It tasted like shit, I remember why I hate snorting, its so fucking disgusting, I'd rather jam metal through skin and tissue any day. But I was very happy to be snorting heroin rather than not having heroin at all, yes yes. I haven't sniffed any dope in years, and I forgot how slow it kicks in, and you don't get a rush off it, but snort 2 bags and wait 5 minutes and you get HIGH. Maybe cause I was like 5 days off, I got a feeling if I had a needle I would've overdosed. Lucky me.

One of my dealers keeps calling over and over to tell me that he doesn't have anything right now, he's waiting on his guy. He knows I have no ride, he knows I already hooked up, he knows I have no money, he knows it's raining and I can't get out. Yet, he keeps calling, "I'm still waiting on my guy, I guess I'll call you later." Ummm... yeah. Someone's hitting the fucking pipe mighty hard.

[[an edit to the above paragraph- he just called me back and apparently plans on driving over here and fronting me dope and a needle, although I asked for no such thing. You see what I mean about fronts will be the death of me? I wish my dealers didn't like me... wait... that's a big fat lie.]]

$$ Replies $$

$ derrick $- Nope, can't go to Miami. Trying fruitlessly to quit getting high, hell I'm closer than I was before. Enjoy yourself though. Take your sister, I know for a fact she wants to go.

$ anony 1 $- Yes, I know, I know.

$ anony 2 $- You know the best part? I can do whatever the hell I want and there's nothing you can do about it, ANONYMOUS.

$ wolf! wolff! $- see above

$ dee goldie $- see above

$ mike $- Yeah, I know, I know. See above.

$ anony 3 $- Hey, it's someone who understands that I can do whatever the hell I want and there's nothing anyone on here can do about it! Hooray for you, anonymous #3! Thanks for the props anyways. I don't understand what makes people that don't like my subject material read me EVERY TIME I UPDATE and leave mean comments. You'd think if my life sickened them that much, they'd stay the fuck up out of it. But, everyone's a bully on the internet. Not me. I'm a bitch, but I can't be a bully. You gotta really care to be a bully, and I don't really care.

$ jin $- If I can stay clean, I'm having the kid. If I can't stay clean, I'm getting an abortion. Yeah, whatever.

$ dee goldie $- Damn straight I deserve public answers! Stand up and use that First Amendment right! Freedom of speech, motherfuckers!

$ taxitalk $-Depends upon my limitations.

$ jerome $- Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.

a terrible person for eternity

So... I think I'm in trouble. I'm not gonna get into specifics on here, but I think I am in a whole mess o' trouble.

Drunk, yes I am pretty drunkish right now. But no h. I haven't done any heroin since Thursday- no, I'm not enjoying it. I have been drinking, not to excess, just enough to dull the sick. Also smoking tons and tons of pot, which is fun while drinking but it a poor substitute for heroin. Wish I had a drink, a real drink, all I got right now is a couple 24s of Natty Ice, last night I was slamming pina coladas with 151 floaters, that was delicious. But you know what, I'm sick. Real sick man, coming off dope sucks. But ya know what, I'm pregnant! Yeah! I can't belieive I finally admitted that on here! So I will quit shooting heroin, or I will be a terrible person for eternity. Go ahead bitches, I'm not scared of hell. This is my best shot, I would kill for some dope but am not doing any, so whatever.

To Derrick and Niina and Angela- sorry about Saturday, you know I wanted to be there but I was sick as a dog all day and couldn't have enjoyed myself, would've ruined y'alls time too. Hope Gretchen Wilson was good...

I can't download limewire could whoever put that send some mp3s to my email, I got google mail so it holds everything.

REPLIES:

dharmabum: OCD people are too easy to drive crazy, they're no fun at all.

ian: you don't get it yet, do you? I like the flamers! They add excitement to my online-life (which isn't nearly as exciting as my real life)

flamer with a brain: I'm a big fan of free speech dude, that's the reason I leave all the comments up because I like having the freedom to say whatever I want online and I want anyone who takes the time to read my writing to have the same freedom. Of course I like the attention, but that's not the main reason. As for the money thing, even McDonalds has slow days. I make money. Half the point of blogs is freedom of expression, and the other half is entertainment. I'm very entertained by stories of people doing very risky dangerous deadly shit, why shouldn't others be? I put some very personal shit up here on the interenet because it entertains me to write it, it entertains my friends, and it gives me a whole nother group of people to "associate" with, most of whom I'll never meet in real life. So what's wrong with being entertained? Shit! If you can't laugh at yourself, there's no hope at all. You may have a brain, but so do I. I know what my problem is and you aren't doing anyone any good by stating it over and over and over.

anony: I love the back-and-forth on these comment pages

anony: A truly well thought-out response.

anony: Who the hell are you arguing with?

fatal-rage: You are awesome! I'm gonna link to you.

a man who can't count to six

I broke up with Greg. I'm "hiding out" and not letting anyfuckingbody know where I'm at. Actually Greg kinda broke up with me. He was bitching about me doing shots "every two hours" when I had done 1 all day and it had been nearly 6 hours before asking for the last one. I said I didn't want to be with a man who can't count to six and then he threw me out of his truck (literally). I started walking away, then he started calling my cellphone nonstop. Ring ring ring. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you." But me, I refused to get in the truck. Fuck that asshole. I had money and dope- what else do I need?

Well, the money went up in smoke and the dope is gone too, and now I'm trying to stay clean, at least as much as I can. I'm coming off with pain pills so I don't go through as much hell. Whatever. I'm gonna fix this goddamn mess if it's the last thing I do.

REPLIES:

Diamond: You're more gangsta than I could ever hope to be. I wish you were always around when people fucked with me.

Artie Blackmon: Damn are you bold! Read my e-mail.

Jin: At the risk of sounding like a lesbian/feminist, most men are assholes.

Boston Joe: Hey, I don't even know who that person is! I wouldn't put it past him to be a cop...

Anonymous #1: Ummmmm, okay?

Taxitalk: Damn straight!

Jsquared: Hey, I am a firm believer in freedom of speech- I certainly use mine, why shouldn't everyone use theirs? Thats why I leave up all the flames- oh, also cause I don't give a rat's ass what strangers think of me or my life. Fuck 'em!

Anonymous #2: Ha ha!

Jin: It is all of that and more. Don't run out and try it, I'm not saying that for god's sake, but it truly is a beautiful experience.

Anonymous #3: That's my business.

Anonymous #4: Whateva, whateva, I do what I want!

Ian: How sweet

Kevin: Thanks for the support, but fuck 'em. Let them use their first amendment rights! Flame on, motherfuckers!

not gonna make it

I haven't done any drugs today or yesterday. I also haven't really done fuckshit since my last shot.

Feel like shit...

...not gonna make it!

dreams of incarceration

I apologize to my loyal readers for being "away" as long as I was. But now you may rejoice, fans of me! For I have returned to entertain and titillate with my tales of junkydom and poetry of woe and anguish. Hah, I'm just kidding. I swear I'm not that full of my damn self. Just bein' a jackass, I guess.

So, yeah, I got arrested on Halloween. I didn't actually, you know, break the law. But you don't even have to break the law to get arrested by Lake Worth Police. Convinient, no? When's the last time you sat back and thought to yourself, "hey, I sure would like to go to county jail right now, but I don't wanna go through all the trouble of actually committing a crime." Well, you're in luck! Just head on down to Lake Worth's south side and walk down the street. If you see a cop, completely ignore him and don't do anything wrong. He will pull up on you and your dreams of incarceration will become a reality!

^bitter, no?

My official charge was Loitering with Intent to Solicit for Prostitution. I wonder if they can do that for other things, other "intents", when you get caught Loitering. Like maybe... Loitering with Intent to Rape a 12-Year-Old Boy or Loitering with Intent to Climb Up the Church Steeple and Shoot At Everybody. "Well, we finally caught them breaking a minor city ordinance so we can arrest them (hooray!) but if we just hit 'em with a loitering charge, they'll be out come morning. How do we keep 'em in there? We don't have anything to plant on these people. I know! I know! Let's add what we think she might have been planning on doing later! That'll add at least a couple more days. Seriously, does Miss Cleo work for LWPD now? How in the FUCK would they know what I intended to do? I thought I was just hanging out in the Burger King parking lot bullshitting with someone.

But anyways, they took me to jail where I stayed for 4 days, which is long enough to go through hellish heroin withdrawals but short enough so that I was still going through them when I got released (broke) at 11pm. I can't cop at midnight with no money. I camped out at a friend's house that night, and he ended up shoving pain pills down my throat cause I was so sick and couldn't stop crying out. God I hate coming off in jail.

So the next morning I managed to borrow a Grant from Greggie and copped from somebody pretty early in the morning. But I had no needles, and it was Sunday morning so none of the pharmacies were open until 10am. At that point I snorted a bag of dope for the first time since I was about 18. I didn't care. I needed to get well. Then I got my apartment back and we picked up Kitty from my family's house where she was staying.

I couldn't BELIEVE who bonded me out... hah!

four days

Four days no heroin.

Somebody kill me please...

"on the road to recovery"

I did crystal meth again today. I also bought a new notebook, so here's my brain emptying itself into it. I wrote 4 words: "live" "work" "Greggie" (my bf) and "die". Then I wrote the first thing that came into my mind. Here's what I came up with.

LIVE
Live for yourself
Love others
Deserve the best or
Get what hell you deserve
Karma sure is a bitch

WORK
Work your way up the ladder
It's a long way up
It's the only way up
Lots of ways down
All of them a lot faster
Because no matter how high you climb
Hell is just a couple rungs beneath you

GREGGIE
I wish we had more time
You work too much
And never have any fucking money
I sleep too much
And put my money in the wrong places
I wish we had more money
I wish we had more time

DIE
Die because of what I live for
Live for what I will soon die for
They say death is only the beginning
But if the starting line looks familiar
I don't want to run

Some other shit...

I've heard the same shit 50 million times
And I've still got 50 million rhymes
For every brain cell
And yet I sit in a cell
A homemade prison of my own creation
Like living in a foreign nation
A little brown universe all on it's own
Millions of people live here
But we all live here alone
To throw away the needle is to unlock the door
But I always come back for more

this is your brain on crystal meth
i sit back and wait for the attack
the rush that i crave and the energy i lack
eyes pop open like they were never closed
sleep is just an elusive dream
every muscle clenches up and starts to scream
it's almost hard to believe i ever dozed
the heat fills my head till my brain cells boil
my hand involuntarily crumples up my foil
and throws it to the ground
my heart beats- once, twice, and it's the loudest sound
i ever heard in my life
feel like my ears are gonna bleed
this may be what i want but sleep is what i need
i can't believe i gave this up for so long
my arms are like twigs but i feel so damn strong
like i suddenly have superpowers
and i know they'll last for hours
but hours turn into days
until i don't even know how long i've been away
but fuck that- this time i won't become a head case
cause all i want is one little taste

Enough with the notebook. My last heroin buy was last night at around 930. I managed to stretch the shit to last until about 6pm but now I can't get more. I'm not sick yet but I'm terrified to go to sleep because I'll be fucking crawling on the ground when I wake up. Staying awake until I'm too sick to sleep isn't an option though. Not only that, but when I wake up I have to go to the DMV with my mom and wait in fucking line to get ID cause if I don't I can't get a motel room which means it's the spillway for me tommorrow night. So after waking up in a pool of cold sweat and throwing up stomach acid for half an hour, I still have to wait several hours, some of them in the hot sun, before I can even start going to town and getting "on the road to recovery" so to speak. Why isn't the dopeman answering? I know he'll deliver to Wellington if I ask him to and I have fucking money. I'm so goddamn pissed off right now.

On a good note, I saw Shane today. We just bummed around the mall. Got to see Greg today too. He took most of my fucking money, that bastard. I love them both.

[[several hours later...]]

Dopeman answered and is on his way. Life is looking up.

dead of a drug overdose on our bed

The day my cellphone got stolen, I got arrested. There was a fight going on at the convenience store near my house where I was buying cigarettes and when the cops got there they ran everyone's name. I had a warrant, for a failure to appear in court on a paraphernalia charge. So, they cuffed me and brought me to county. I refused my first appearance twice, because I was simply too sick to get out of bed. Not that I was sleeping anyway, but whenever I stood up I started to get dizzy and chilled and pukey. Detoxing in jail was a son-of-a-bitch! I literally shit my pants twice. You can imagine all the shit-talking there! I didn't really care though, I was too sick to give a flying rat's ass what some hoes in jail had to say about me. As long as no one was beating my ass (or touching me in any way) they can shit-talk till Jesus comes back. Day 3 I finally went to my first appearance and was given time served.

So I got out today and Greg came and picked me up. I was still sick and he lent me the money to get straight and we had an agreement on how I was to repay the favor. I fulfilled my part of the bargain, and then he started being an asshole so we started fighting and he stormed out, telling me never to call him again. But he took my house key. Joe was all fucked up when I left to go make some money, and since he had repayed Greg for me I went to get the money to pay him back. When I got home, I banged on the door for 5 full minutes and no one answered. I didn't have my key, so I got the key from my landlord and let myself in. That was when I noticed the peculiar way that Joe was lying on the bed, with his head and one arm dangling off. His eyes were open too, but he wasn't breathing.

His heart wasn't beating either.

I had found my roommate and VERY close friend, dead of a drug overdose on our bed.

Joe is dead.

I raced back over to the landlord's office, SCREAMING at him that something is wrong with Joe, call 911, I think he's dead. The paramedics and police came, but nothing could be done. They think he od'd on his psych meds and he did a little heroin too but he's never shot up before. When I walked into that room, finding him dead was the last thing I expected. I was in shock, screaming and babbling and dripping sweat and crying my eyes out. I managed to fill out a police statement, just writing when I left and when I came back and found him and what I did. They asked if I cleaned out the room. Hell, all I did was put his weed away! There was no dope in that room.

I can't believe he's really gone. No more tiny little joints and a pile of roaches laying on the bed. No more waking up to the Weather Channel (his favorite). No more laughing about stupid shit in bed together. No more yelling at him for answering my phone (which was a non-issue anyways, since my phone is still stolen). No more getting woken up because he's lonely and wants to spend time with me. No more him lending me money to buy dope so I didn't have to go out, so I could hang with him in the room instead. No more of his mom's homemade chili, which she made special for the two of us who have acid reflux and can't really handle normal chili. Well, he had acid reflux. I'm having a really hard time believing that Joe is DEAD, gone forever. I couldn't look when the coroner and the cops brought him out of the room, I think if I had watched that I would have started screaming and been unable to stop. My mom came and picked me up. While they were bringing him out I was hugging her with my eyes shut, but I heard the clunk of the wheels and I passed out, spilling my bottle of water and cutting my knees. My mom said she would have held me up if she could, but I was just too heavy. I was weak, from not eating since Wednesday (I was too sick to eat ANYTHING, especially county chow) and in shock. The paramedics almost had too give me a shot. They were like, "are you the one who found him dead?" Yes, yes I was. The worst part about it was his eyes. They were open and staring right at me. I haven't seen a dead body in a while, and not experienced the death of a close friend since my girl Hana overdosed on an IV heroin/coke combo in high school. I didn't find her though, her sister told me about it. Joe... well, those dead, open, overdosed eyes are going to haunt my dreams tonight.

I just wanted him to be okay, and when the paramedics told me he was gone and that there was nothing they could do or that I could have done, and that I did the right thing by calling 911 the second I got home...

...that's when I went into shock. I was screaming, "MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! JOE IS DEAD! GOD, I LOVED THAT GUY SO MUCH! HE WAS ONLY 36! HE'S DEAD! MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD!"

God, if that doesn't hurt. My heart is aching. I'm waiting on dope to ease the pain right now, my guy is delivering out here to Wellington at 4 in the morning because I told him I needed him and told him what had happened to Joe. My dealer is always good about delivering no matter where I'm at. He loves my money and I love his shit! But he's a nice guy too, real sympathetic about the whole Joe thing. I was actually crying on the phone to him! Now that's unheard of, me spilling my guts to the damn dopeman.

I miss Joe... god damn I really do.

SAD
When I'm sad, the whole world goes away
When I'm sad, nothing can make it okay
When I'm sad, nothing sounds like fun
When I'm sad, I feel like the only one
When I'm sad, I can't even turn a trick
I get so sad I feel physically sick
When I'm sad, I don't have a single friend
I'd give anything just to make the sadness end
When I'm sad, nothing can ever fill that hole
It's like depression of my motherfucking soul
When I'm sad, everything just makes me cry
When I'm sad, I just want to curl up and die
When I'm sad, I'm on the way to going insane
When I'm sad, all I can feel i soul-destroying pain
When I'm sad, I stick a needle in the perfect place
Because that's all I have left that puts a smile on my face

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.

a large group of switchouts

Here are some bits and pieces from my personal journal during my 21-day stay at the Watershed-

Can't see straight, want a shot of something, don't care what it is as long as it's some type of narcotic!

I figured out that I can't do shit without a morning dose of something, whether it's dope or crack or a joint or a handful of pills ((ooh, I hate pills, almost as much as I hate crack)). But if I have my "wake-up" I'm okay for a while because it's not just the dope, it's the whole ritual that I miss.

My roommate left me a whole bunch of clothes and it's cool cause she dresses like Morticia Addams after a fat blunt. Goth, but colorful.

It really is a different world, the junky/crackhead world. For example, if you go to a "normie" and tell they, "wow, you've really gained weight!" they'd be offended but in the case of us space-basers and vein-poppers and compulsive drinkers it can be considered a compliment. It's like when my friend was going 80mph down Okeechobee to buy heroin and he cut off three cars: "sorry normal people! we're drug addicts!"

I've had the same dream for 3 nights straight, except it ends worse every time I have it. The dream is about me sneaking out of here (from the 4th floor, no less) and going with Greg to cop. Each dream ends a little bit worse.

I have to stay until Monday to keep everyone from bitching. They took my methadone away and I've been sick ever since.

Insanity is not doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. Insanity is not being able to tell dreams from reality. I feel like Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky. Got promoted to level 2 in the program. Restless/kicking legs are hell!

I'm off heroin, methadone, ALL opiates! I'm not a junky at the present moment which is cool. It's miserable and I hate it! If this is getting clean, I don't want any part in it! I long for my junkydom. The entire world is based on layer and layers of semi-fossilized bullshit.

I got pink sweatpants!!

St Patrick's Day aka DUI Night. I bet we get a category 5 this hurricane season, cause last year Katrina was headed straight for us until it missed and fucked New Orleans in the ass instead. Also, 2 years ago we got bitch-slapped by 3 'canes in a row: Wilma, Jean, and Frances all in just a couple of months. We had to go to Broward to have a warm meal.


I fucking hate AA. I hate calling myself an alkie when I hate fucking alcohol. I hate calling myself an addict cause you have to say it at the meetings. I can call myself a junky because it's my label and it only applies when I'm actively addicted to heroin, which right now I'm not. But meetings are the worst! I don't want to hear about your abcesses and your abortions annd all the dumb shit you did while smoking crack- we've all done dumb shit. I don't want to hear about how Uncle Bob touched you wrong when you were 4. What happens happens, but here in Reality World you're not 4 anymore, but in fact closer to 40. Get the fuck over it.

Now they want me to stay until Friday! What a large group of switchouts! If I'm still here past 5pm on Friday, I'm gonna start some fires!!

-----

Back to today... rode around with Greg for a while. We went to Broward to pick up this girl Victoria who I was in rehab with at Summer House and the second we got her well she switched out on us too. Refused to do anything. I understand what a junky stunt is, but most heroinphiles don't burn bridges when there's dope on the other side. Since I've been out I've been sleeping in Greg's camper and I think both of us need a shower fo' sho'. I shot a cap today, it was awesome especially since it brought me down from the coke I had just plugged my hand with. My scars are looking so much fucking better...

It's good to be back..

not even dopesick

I'm baaaack...

I didn't take a vacation. I was at another detox. Woohoo for me, huh? Well I don't have much time to chill at my mama's house, my other blog is more descriptive this time cause I got shit to do and people to see but here's the main idea:

It was called The Watershed, right south of me in Boynton Beach. I got methadone and ativan to detox (mostly methadone). I didn't like it there. Greg picked me up. I shot dope and coke and smoked weed the yesterday, which was my discharge date. But I haven't done any today and it's past 4pm. And I'm not even dopesick in the slightest bit.

My mama wants to take me to Disney World.

I'm not dead!!!!!

all sorts of (mostly unhelpful) stuff

I've been out of detox almost 2 days, and on my last day I was given no medication at all. Makes sense, right? Well, I woke around 5 am (sick as hell, of course) and left around 11 am, driven to the Sheridan Street Tri-Rail station and rode north 9 stations north to L-Dub. It felt like a 10-hour ride. Sweating, freezing, shaking, trying not to moan out loud- basically wanting to die. The train seemed to travel even slower as we entered my county. I stood up and paced up and down the car, every muscle clenched, nails piercing my hands as I watched the exits on I-95 go by... once I saw the Lake Worth water tower I jumped on the phone and called Greg. I knew he had 2 bags for me, and I had never been so sick in my life. At least when I was pissing and moaning and shitting my pants at Summer House, I was on liquid Dilaudid and Valium and all sorts of (mostly unhelpful) stuff. At this point I was less than half detoxed and feeling the pain.

I have never wanted to die more than I did during that 45 minute Tri-Rail ride. NEVER.

Greg took pictures of me when he picked me up. I was shaking, nose and eyes running, hunched over like an arthritic old lady, and he wanted to take my picture. Made no sense to me. Then he got me well. It took me about 20 minutes to hit a vein and even then I missed some of it. I felt all the sickness melt away into fucking ecstasy...

Why did I bother going through the agony of detox? Why put myself through hell only to stick myself soon as I hit town? What the fuck was that about? At that point, none of it mattered. But now...?

Sure, I've done a couple more shots since then. Maybe a grand total of 5 bags in the last 2 days (an improvement upon 5 bags every 2 hours/minutes). I wait until I'm totally sick and then do just enough to get high and it's working wonders for me. The truth is, that detox was too expensive and didn't work. "It works if you work it?" Well, not when it's Day Seven and you're still puking up yellow foam because you can't get water down. I'm going to another detox- one in Ft Lauderdale that uses methadone (not methadone maintenance, I don't need to turn the monkey in my back into a fucking gorilla). They recommend a 14-day stay for us big leaguers, or dope fiends, or needle junkies, or dregs of society, or whatever you want to call us. It won't be as "resort-like" as Summer House in Miami, I won't be able to use a computer. So I guess I'll have to record my second-time-around detox adventures when I return to my beloved Lake Worth.

There really isn't anything for me here... except for Greg. I really do love him. But he thinks I'm just a kid with a stupid crush. Maybe I should leave Florida. Hell, I'd never do that. Maybe at least leave the county? I've never really been anywhere. I could give Orlando or Tampa or Miami a shot. Different names, different faces, same stories. I just need to stay strong as I can. I'm dopesick as hell right now and at my mama's house. I'll fix when I get home cause I didn't bring any with me (I'm looking at about an hour-long ride) and that's okay with me.

I deserve to be fucking sick.

It's easy to see the world through someone else's eyes, but you have to be willing to close your own.

I don't even know what that means...

piss piss moan moan bitch bitch

A 40 oz to freedom is the only chance I have to feel good even though I feel bad
[[sublime-40 ounces to freedom]]

Life sure is a sonofabitch. Day 6 of detox and I'm still a sick kitty. I wish I could eat... I haven't eaten in days... literally since I got here, except for a couple pieces of candy and 2 or 3 bites of rice. No wonder I have no energy. I'm so excited to leave tommorrow I could shit my pants. Oh god it was so embarrassing- I shat myself the other day, for real. I was humiliated, even through no one knew about it except for the nurses. I haven't shat myself since I was a little kid- they say it's the detox but it was pretty humbling.

Piss piss moan moan bitch bitch... like anyone wants to hear about that. I usually have such a positive attitude and now I'm sick and so grumpy and hurty and bitchy.

News from Dixie- Shane is in jail for grand larceny and I think Kim is too but I'm not sure because I don't know her last name so I can't look her up. I'll try "Kimberly" plus her last initial (I at least know that much) see if she's on the outs or not. I miss Dixie Highway. I miss Lake Worth. I miss GREG!!!! I never thought I would really "get with" a guy for more than a trick or a one-night stand after Micheal but Greg has been the best guy for me. It's right what I need- a guy who doesn't get high. But he does have a stash for me to bang when I get out tommorrow. Just thinking about it makes me want to hurl. I miss my god damn heroin and my god damn needles. Piss piss moan moan bitch bitch...

I've come to my senses that I've become senseless
I could give you lessons on how to ruin your friendships
Every last conviction, I smoked them all away
I drank my frustrations down the drain, out of the way
So I sit and wait and wonder- does anyone else feel like me?
I'm so tired of the same routines and disappearing self-esteem
I could write the best book on co-dependency
I'm the prime example of underage tragedy
I been spending my time at the local liquor store
And I been sleeping nightly on my best friend's kitchen floor
So I sit and wait and wonder- does anyone else feel like me?
I'm so overdosed on apathy and burnt out on sympathy
I'll sing along with every emergency
Just sing along, I'm the king of catastrophe
I'm so far gone, that deep down inside I think it's right by me
I'm my own worst enemy
[[less than jake-the science of selling yourself short]]

the most miserable person on earth

The person with this laptop is leaving today so... this is the last post until I leave detox. I finally figured something out. I could be in the finest resort, in Hawaii (or south beach?), drinking fancy drinks, relaxing, getting massages, eating steak and crab legs and candy all day, and if I wasn't shooting dope I would be the most miserable person on earth. Isn't that the craziest shit? That is the only thing that makes me happy. Well, perhaps not the ONLY thing. But nothing else can make me happy unless it is preceded by a fat shot. How pathetic does that make me?

Pretty fucking pathetic, if you ask me...

Well I just got my meds twice in like... an hour. I guess they're slipping. But no matter what they give me, it won't stop- the ache, the shakes, the jones, the dopesick/dopeseeking, the itch, the monkey on my back, whatever you want to call it. I need heroin. And a needle. For those of you who didn't hear correctly-

I need heroin!!!

But I can't get any until stupid Wednesday. Greg has my 2 bags waiting for me, but only if I finish my week here!!! My tracks are going away, it's awesome, and my veins are coming back, I'm all excited about it. But all my mind is saying is

bangbangbang

I wish they detoxed with methadone here. I'm halfway crawled out of my skin, my cellphone is finally charged, add another random thought and it would be a Neil Diamond song.

GUN CLUB-TYPE COUNTDOWN: 2 more days (because after all it's after 3 so today doesn't count)

reverse porcupine

I'm finally in detox in Miami!

It's about fuckin' time, Michelle, dontcha think?

Well, yeah. My arms were starting to look like swiss cheese. Infected swiss cheese. Reverse porcupine. If I had as many needles sticking out of me as I stuck in me, I would look like pinhead from Hellraiser. Space-baser. Needle freak. Fu-ckin jun-kee. Mosquitos would bite me and drop dead on the floor.

Lots of hell. Lots of pain. Lots of fucking hellish painful agony. Haven't been able to eat a bite in days. Scream in my sleep. Would literally KILL for one bag.

The sad part is- I don't plan on staying clean! I can't wait to get high again. Someone special has a stash for me. Woohoo! But ONLY if I stay my full 7 days. It's worth it! Working right now- I'd rather stay clean for... well, a couple more days. But if he switches out, I'm Fuuuuucked with a capital FUCK.

Other than that... I'm doing good... HAH!!!!!!!!!!

day four, or oblivion is the only answer

No pills in me today. No meth or cocaine in me today. Not even any alcohol, like last night. Just pot. No opiates. Hating life. I am just counting down the minutes until I can get my ass to Lake Worth and taste the brown sugar. A group of friends want to go to Europe, would I be interested in going with? I'd have to be off dope, but... if I can do it, why not go? I have no ties to this south Florida bullshit besides the dope dealers. I mean, I'm just starting to see Micheal again, leaving could fuck that up because I don't think he's ready to go with me. I want to leave all by myself, go north somewhere (fuck Ft Laudy/Miami, that's the same as staying here) and try to stay high and sleep inside and make money in a whole new part of the world. I want to go to New York or fucking California or hell, even Georgia or Alabama would be a new adventure. I'm sick of fucking West Palm Beach. I'm sick of the same streets and the same people that I see every day, different names, but the same old bullshit. I have a feeling I'll see those same people in any city I go to in this country.

I need some heroin, plain and simple. If I can stay away from it, maybe I can move. If I return to the needle, I'm a homebody for however much longer. Oblivion is the only answer, even when there's no question being asked.

[i'm off to see the wizard]