Woke up sicker than usual…  I am huddled in front of my pc, with a heating pad curled against my stomach under my big, blankety, terry cloth robe.  The heating pad is plugged into the wrong outlet, for where I am sitting, and is now stretched out such that it could easily take out a series of objects, and/or trip anyone who tried to quickly exit this room.  I am so tired, in a more general sense.  Tired of myself.  My attitude is forcefully upbeat – I won’t give in to the depression that I can feel nipping at my heels.  I still have my wits about me enough to try to steer the other way.  I know, sometimes, it hits you like a truck, and the fight seems pointless – like a whisper in the wind.

"I’ll tell you why I don’t want to know where you are
I got a joke I’ve been dying to tell you
The silent kid is looking down the barrel
To make the noise that I kept so quiet
I kept it from you, Pitseleh"

I’ve been feeling pretty nuts – trying to supress that sh*t, as best I can.  I mean…  it’s like that bit of poetry by Robert Frost that I dig so much – "the woods are lovely dark and deep, but I’ve got promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep."  I have definitely had some pretty gripping moments of wanting to get high on smack, lately. 

One such moment involved someone else talking about how great it was to be high on something else.  He said something about failing to resist, and how f@cking good it felt, and I was like…  "yeah…  that wolud be f@cking great."  I didn’t say that, of course – this person wasn’t trying to sell the idea, and I definitely wasn’t tryng to encourage him.  There was remorse in the story that was being told – there just also happened to be a longing that I understood, too well.  That desire to eclipse all the ugly, painful feelings…  to cancel all that out, and only feel the warm, good things.  But, it’s a trap.  It starts out taking away your pain, and more quickly than you could ever guess, it starts giving you back pain – pain worse than anything you could ever dream up, unless you’ve lived this sh*t.  And, I mean PHYSICAL AGONY.  Sure, there’s the whole psychological obssession, and good luck with that once an opiate or opioid’s got you, but the physical sh*t…  few people ever get through that part, to see if they can hack the psychological side, on it’s own.  I’m not trying to brag – I was very lucky.  I never would have made it through this sh*t if I hadn’t made certain friends here on DT. 

"I’m not what’s missing from your life now
I could never be the puzzle pieces
They say that God makes problems, just to see what you can stand
Before you do as the devil pleases
And give up the thing you love

But no one deserves it"

Most junkies can’t imagine going 3-4 days without their drug of choice – the physical pain hits heights that you can’t fathom.  Most people never get out.  If I manage to stay above water, I will of lost seven years.  Most people on junk lose something more like 25 – life.  It really is like a life sentence, that you impose on yourself, again and again – paying ten thousand times over for the same mistake.  No one deserves that.  Sure, not a total loss – it’s not like I was in a coma.  But, I certainly wasn’t getting anywhere near what I have the potential to do.  That was never going to happen with heroin in the picture.  And, it never will.  I have three months off smack, and I need to hold onto that.

The bad moments are fewer an farther between, these days.  And, they’re more fleeting.

"The first time I saw you, I knew it would never last
I’m not half what I wish I was
I’m so angry, I don’t think it’ll ever pass
And I was bad news for you, just because
I never meant to hurt you" ("Pitseleh," Elliot Smith)

Sometimes, I feel like I’m lousy at everything that really matters.  I have screwed up so many things that mattered to me.  That really f@cking mattered… 

No…  not doing that.  Not going there… 

Have to exact some freaking control, or I’ll just spin into a f@cking spiral.

Have you ever seen footage of two parachutes getting tangled?  The way one jumper’s gear wraps around another’s, and they just start spinning out of the sky?  Picking up speed, spinning past each other into a spiral, towards the earth…  a little more distance, and they never would’ve collided – alone they were two people doing something dangerous, but once they made contact, they didn’t stand a f@cking chance.  And, when you see it going down you think, "no one could EVER survive this."  How could they?  A human falls to earth, like a plane falling out of the sky, and they’re supposed to be quite dead.  But, I did see footage of such an accident, where one of the men died, and the other just…  got up.  He was hurt, but he was alive, and ultimately, he was okay.  Charlie and I were like those two jumpers. 

I mean, what’s more seductive than falling madly in love, and being hooked on heroin?  We were partners.  Locked into a sh*tty situation, we had each other to help keep it going, and I was good at my part.  I always hunted out better connections, and managed to pull together cash – I am scrapper and a southsider (I was built to survive sh*t that would make the average human go fetal, and start thumb-sucking).  I watched a friend bleed to death in front of me, while I administered CPR, when I was 15.  I don’t blink at the sight of blood. 

There’s a lot of weakness inside me, from all the pain and loss, but there’s also a resilience that’s developed by necessity.  Could things be different for us, now that we’re both clean?  Or, are we just continuous threats to each other?  (The whole "people, places, and things" argument – I always figured a spouse got an exemption or something, haha, but seriously, I don’t know.  I don’t know what will, or should happen, anymore.)  I know I still love him.  But, that doesn’t mean that we can work it out.  I mean how can I throw myself whole heartedly into something, when the other person isn’t even sure that he wants me?

I am rationalizing my surrender to f@cking confusion.  Because, it’s easier to just let things unfold, and then sort it out.  And, that’s obviously the path that appeals most at the moment.  I told myself I was going to be more sensible about all this, but I just don’t know if that’s possible, anymore.  These aren’t logical matters.  Reason has no place in these types of decisions.  But, falling back on reason has it’s allure.  I mean…  to quote an amusing film, that involves this very subject:  "my gut has shit for brains." ("High Fidelity") 

Sh*t, I have to get ready for outpatient – I actually should have started doing that, already.  Time to face the music…