I am not going to f@ck this up. Not tonight…
My dealer’s been calling, again. I don’t answer. I hit "silence," or "ignore," and erase the call from my log, so Charlie won’t have to see it. That’s as much for me, as it is for him – if he gets tempted, he could mess things up for me. And, I AM NOT GOING TO F@CK THIS UP. Not tonight… and, that’s all I have to think about, right now. Not tonight… (and, what kind of lousy drug dealer has to chase after customers? There’s no shortage of freaking addicts out there, God damn it. He’s called twice. I bet he’ll call, again, a little later, right aroungd the time I’d normally cop. But, unfortunately, I can’t turn off my phone – it’s complicated, but trust me, I can’t.) I’m not f@cking up tonight.
I’ve come too far, and it means too much. What does it mean? I don’t even know. I can’t see three feet in front of me. But, I know what I don’t want. And, I do know of a few of the things I’m fighting for. Even if some of them are sort of… vague abstractions… they’re probably less overwhelming that way, anyway. Like, taking steps to go back to school – I don’t have a specific plan, yet, because if I try to get too into all that, right now, I’ll either have an aneurysm, or freak out, and possibly get high, and since the latter is more likely… wow, the oddness of that just struck me. I’m more afraid of being stuck, junked out, for another twenty years, or more, than I am of dying. No wonder I thought about killing myself… what was that, like a month ago, now? Whatever… time blurs. Drugs, depression, and insomnia all help with that (the distortion of time), but so does being caught up in something, and I’ve certianly been caught up in some sh*t, lately. So, yeah… I’m struggling, but it will get easier soon. This is just lingering longer because I f@cked up Thursday, but at least it doesn’t hurt like it could. And, if I f@ck up , again, I get more pain, and even less momentum. Not happening… not doing it… I felt so guilty the last time. I hated myself so much, I wanted to hurt myself (like, slash the sh*t out of my arms, or something) Friday morning – I don’t want to feel that way, again. If it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself, that’s because I am trying to convince myself. I’m combatting a f@cking compulsion with logic, here.
I have some happiness in my life, right now, and I am not going to let it go, so that I can grab onto more f@cking pain and misery.
A couple times, late at night, I’ve heard things – nothing steady, or continuous. Just weird little noises… very sporadic… like someone calling someone else’s name, or something… sometimes, I might actually be asleep, dreaming these sounds, or hearing them (from outside the window) while I’m actually asleep, and dreaming, or I could be having auditory hallucinations from the insomnia/withdrawal. Or, I could just finally be losing my f@cking mind. But, it’s probably the insomnia messing with me. Or a really vivid dream…
I know I’ll talk to Ace, at some point. That’ll help. It always does.
I had nightmares after I went back to sleep this morning, and one of them involved Ace telling me he didn’t want to be my friend, anymore. It was awful. I probably had that dream because I’ve felt like such a burden, lately. (I’ve also felt like lousy company.)
Hopefully Bob is okay. She’s a great person, and I worry about her.
I just cant get my ass moving, today. I need TO DO something. Struggling… but it will get easier. It will… my body’s just screaming for it, and, I’m like, "God damn you, ball and socket joints – you bitches work for me!" Right now, my body’s in a state of false panic, sending out pain signals based on normal, internal sensations, because my nervous system isn’t moving it’s base level of natural painkillers to dull that sh*t out. My brain’s grown accustomed to an outside simulus to create a flood of those natural painkillers, and whatnot, so it’s holding that sh*t back, waiting for the stimulus. And, as withdrawal progresses, your body screams louder, and louder, trying to tell you that it needs what you’ve taught it to think it needs… you can dull this down with meds, but nothing cuts through it completely. I’ve heard of stuff like rapid detox, where they put you under for eight hours (or some damn thing), flood your body with narcan to put you through an accelerated withdrawal, and you wake up okay, somehow. I’ve also heard of people getting REALLY sick after supposedly successful procedures, but assuming it does work the way it’s supposed to – I think you have to do this part. I think you have to learn to gut it ot, or you can never be free. You can’t just remove the physical dependency, and assume that’ll cut it. I think you have to drag yourself through this, to know you have the will to really make it without the sh*t. Hell, what do I know… these are just my ramblings while I’m sitting here in pain, wanting very badly to believe that there’s a damn good reason for it. The pain’s not so bad. I’ve been through much worse. If were really kicking my ass like it can, I wouldn’t be sitting up typing. I’d be trying not to choke n my own vomit, while I sweated, and twitched, writhing around in agony. And, that’s not an exaggeration.
My knees hurt. That’s one I haven’t felt in a while. Usually I feel it in my hips. (The joint pain from withdrawal) I need to go take that shower. I need to do something with myself. I need to keep my f@cking head together. God, I hate this. Sometimes… I can’t believe the damage I’ve done. It all seems like a bad dream. I know I’ve felt hopeless, and found my life intolerable, at times, but… it would probably be better to disappear into Lake Michigan, than to let myself get high again. I know I may not be making complete sense right now. I’m not thinking straight. I’m not… I’m just not sure what the hell I need to do, right now, to keep myself right. I just know I can’t let it go wrong, again. God, I sound crazy, right now. I’m just gonna shut up, and maybe, I’ll be more coherent, and more mercifully brief, in a later blog.