I want to give up and die.  I can’t stop sobbing.  If I had anything sharp within reach, I would have already gone to work on my arm.  I’m eye-balling some pills, and contemplating worse.  I am in pain in every sense of the word.  I just need this to stop, whatever that takes.

I can’t stand myself. 

I am in such a terrible spiral, and I feel so alone.  No one wants to put up with this.  No one wants to deal with this.  I don’t want to deal with this.  I alienate people, and my life is going nowhere in a big hurry – just draining past.  I am such a waste.  I don’t deserve to find my way.  I don’t deserve any help or breaks.  I cannot construct anything in my reality that’s worth staying off smack.  Anything I try to build doesn’t get built, or falls apart short of completion.  (I can’t hold onto anything good – I push people away, and alienate them with my nuttiness).  Why shouldn’t I be a f@cking junkie?  It’s who I was for the better part of seven years.  I know ho to survive that way. 

But, as I got older, it would get uglier.  And, it’s already been pretty ugly – I know that.

Maybe a short run, getting high steadily, followed by a quick death.  Probably an overdose.  Wouldn’t take much since I have been off so long.  Maybe $60 bucks or so…  maybe a little more, but not much more.  I’d probably do at least $80 to be sure.  I don’t even know if any of my old numbers still work.  But, I could just jep calling until one does.

Or, maybe I should just skip all the fun and games, and cut right to it.  I DO NOT WANT TO EXIST, RIGHT NOW.  I feel so alone, and so unwanted by the people I care about (my friends, Charlie, ect.).  I feel so broken and unneeded.  Nothing would really change if I were gone.  People would be better off. 

Sometimes, I just want to be with my daughter.  She’s been gone for a decade.  She never had the chance to be who she was.  I did all I could to make myself healthy while I was pregnant.  I stayed away from everything harmful – quit smoking, and wouldn’t even take Tylenol.  No caffeine, no second hand smoke…  no drugs that didn’t come from the doc, and I followed the prescibed diet meticulously.  (I was underweight at the start of things – had to eat a special diet, but i did so methodically).  But, it did not matter.  Born too soon with underdeveloped lungs…  she died the day she was born.  Sometimes…  our best efforts…  just aren’t enough.