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| The Junky's Christmas by William S. Burroughs | ||
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| How Times Change | ||
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| Mindful of That Place | ||
There was a point in my life where I would have taken any drug put in front of me. I didn't care how I felt as long as it was different. And I did lots of drugs, from street to psych and in between I would smoke pot all day every day I could, drink way too much, take crystal and heroin and cocaine, pop klonopin and seroquel and zyprexa and whatever other nasty thing the psych people gave me. The only reason i never became addicted to heroin or cocaine was that I was never able to attain a steady supply and it is only by the grace of God that I am not an alcoholic. Going through geodon withdrawals was enough to make me very thankful I didn't go through that with anything else. I am glad I moved on from that place, I know many who didn't. Many who couldn't. Many who never will. When I fall into these troughs like I've been in the last several days, I must keep mindful of how far I've come. Where I was and where I am. I got through that, I can get through this. | ||
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| Throw Out | ||
I've spent a good deal of time today cleaning my room and there is still a lot more to do. Last night, I found several roaches under one of my two dressers. I had a roommate when I lived on Dane Street who's room was infested with roaches. She was a junky, I don't have an excuse. This prompted my cleaning today. I've done a lot today and completely cleaned out some problem areas in my room that haven't been really cleaned out in years. But I've still got quite a bit to do in the room. It's disgusting and I hate living like this. Thing need to change. ----- I'm at | ||
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| I'm Lucky | ||
I'm lucky to be alive. I mean that in the most real sense. I'm lucky. I'm so fucking lucky that it's practically unbelievable. I lived in my car and then on the street when I was constantly losing time and I somehow managed not to get killed. In fact, I was still able to use my wits to l get out of several situations where that was a likely outcome. I was completely lost, and didn't really have anyone close to me for most of that time. If I had fallen in close with a junkie, I would have become a heroin addict. I would have done just about any drug that was put in front of me at that point. But somehow, I managed to avoid getting an addiction. My luck didn't stop or start there. I was severely burned as a child, but not only survived but miraculously avoided serious burns to my face. My roommate on the burn unit, Alfonso, was not so lucky, he didn't make it. I lost a lot of time and almost flunked out of high school. But I made it through by the skin of my teeth. I passed without turning in most of my homework. Somehow. Graduated 313th out of 317 students. I fell in with Being able to get assistance without ending up again on the street is another stroke of luck. And at this point, my still having a place to live is astounding. And I'm still here to live in it. I've tried to kill myself too many times, and came very close to succeeding on a few occasions. But I'm still here. Somehow. I have seen my share of bad things and been my share of bad places, but I am blessed. It's utterly amazing that things turned out so well for me. I'm so very incredibly lucky. I feel I must have one of those guardian angels like the characters that won't die regardless of how much you shoot at them on Star Trek. | ||
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| Demon Eyes | ||
Last night I had a bit of a breakdown. But, because of that breakdown I learned about something I've been trying to figure out for some time now: the nature of evil. Again, the answer has always been right in front of me, but I never really looked to see it: Evil is in the demon eyes. To look through demon eyes is to look at the universe or the world or the that which is within the world with utter despisement, contempt, and hate. I've worn demon eyes, and I would venture to say that every person has seen the world through them at one point or another. Looking through demon eyes feels very very good. The world seems dark and one seem above it all. It aggrandizes the ego, providing an amazing powertrip, frees one from bindings of morality and love, and can even allow one to see themselves as righteous in these things. There is a revelry in evil, and one can become addicted to that revelry. By looking through demon one becomes a demon. Demon eyes allow people to knowingly do very harmful things for personal gain, and sometimes even to do harmful things to simply be harmful. The demon eyes are very dangerous, and they are the root of the much, if not most, of the human-caused suffering in the world. The Demon sees the world as ugly and works to make it so. Some people live the majority of their lives looking through demon eyes. It is an addiction. It is heroin of the soul, and eventually turns the barer into a bitter jaded junky, a demons in the machine. Demons are real. They are all around us. They are human, and they are us. | ||
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| No More Anymore | ||
i don't know. i want this to stop. my head need to stop. i don't know how to explain this. i've been trying, but i don't think it's possible. it hurts. it fucking hurts. i don't know how to explain. anything to make it stop. i will do anything. anything. i don't care anymore. i just want it to stop. i don't care if it's jumping in front of a train or shooting heroin. i really don't. i can't do this anymore. i can't. please. i can't. i keep going. i'm still fucking here for some stupid reason. i don't want to be. i don't want to exist. i don't want to be here. why can't i leave? why haven't i left? this is not life. i'm just becoming more twisted. i am as a wounded animal. i only see the pain. i do not want to exist here. | ||
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| Talk versus Action | ||
People often get the wrong impression about me and drugs, and this is for the most part my fault. I talk about drugs a lot. They fascinate me. I'm very very interested in them. But with the amount of talking and writing I do about them, many people walk away thinking that I am shoveling these things into my mouth 24/7. I am not. Drugs interest me as a topic a lot more than they interest me as an activity. I don't make a huge effort to constantly seek them out. I do not feel the need to cultivate a steady supply and have them consistently on hand. I don't want to live my live on any psychoactive drug. Period. That goes equally for acid, marijuana, prozac, alcohol, and geodon. I do not view those who desire to do drugs all the time as inherently inferior in any way to those who don't. I do not dismiss that as a valid lifestyle choice. Even if I had a issue with it, it is not be my place to judge the personal decisions adults make regarding to their own bodies and minds. I, however, tend prefer to be in my natural state the majority of the time. That decision may not be the most healthy for me as my mind has been a very bad place, but deep inside I believe that that bad place is something that I have to learn to deal with directly if I'm going to live. | ||
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| Why Not | ||
I don't know why I never developed a heroin habit. I've had enough opertunities to do so, and I regret staying away. Heroin eventually kills you and as a bonus gives helps ease the pain along the way. Sounds good to me right now. | ||
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| Thoughts on Heroin | ||
I did heroin twice about 6 years ago. I snorted it both times. It was good. It was too good. Bliss. I wanted more. I still think about how it felt. I've never felt a good that good. It see it why it is easy to get hooked. Scary easy. Getting hooked is not fun. Even though I did not go down that road myself, I know that after a very short time of use the good feeling of doing it shifts to a bad feeling of not doing it. The body compensates by changing the balance of receptors on the neurons. This new equilibrium is upset when the heroin is missing causing extremely not pleasant sensations. Life quickly starts to revolve around heroin and the insatiableness hunger destroys everything around it. I've seen friends fall deep into that dark hole within a matter of a week or two. Heroin also has a cross-tolerance with other opiates and when a heroin addict actually needs pain killers because of illness or injury, and being a heroin addict increases the likelihood of both, those pain killers will be significantly less effective, if effective at all. For example, when a junky acquaintance of mine was stabbed a few years ago, the morphine he was given in the hospital did absolutely nothing for him. Absolutely nothing. I am at once tempted and terrified by heroin. I am terrified that I am tempted. The taste of the bait will always be in my head. | ||
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| Voice Post: Complaints, Neurology, Fears and Hope | |||
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| Happy Neurons | |||
gacked from
So much for the killing brain cells argument. | |||
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| Hit and Miss Appointments | ||
I missed my appointment with my primary care doctor again yesterday. It's rescheduled for August 9th. I really need to see her soon. I think my nervousness about seeing her and about all the financial issues that surround it with Mount Auburn factor highly into my inability to make my appointments. I absolutely need to make sure that I make it in next time. But sometimes that isn't enough. I did make it to my therapy appointment. I hadn't seen my therapist in three weeks. I was feeling completely out of it. I wasn't really able to keep eye contact while I was talking. Staring at the wall and floor, but never really looking at her. That is actually a problem I have had in the past, but really hasn't surfaced recently. She was not familiar with me acting that way, and was therefore a little concerned. She told me not to do heroin, which wasn't surprising. I told her how blissful heroin is. How it makes all the pain go away, physical and mental. How it is pure and wonderful. But, that so far all I've had are ideations about doing it. I haven't really had much in the way of motivation. Still, she warned me that recovery from heroin is hard. She said that she'd met several people on methadone, and life was no longer blissful for them. I told her that part of the idea was that I wouldn't recover. I see it as a sort of quazisuicidal act. She asked me to tell her when I've given up and it's all over, which I guess is fair. She wants me to go back on medication. At least antidepressants. I personally think that my depression in large part is caused by my anxiety, which would make something for anxiety more helpful. Of course she was not going to recommend benzos after the big heroin discussion. However, she is not the person who would be prescribing the medication. I will have a (hopefully new) pdoc to do that. I just need to keep the heroin discussion away from them. Benzos are tricky to get, regardless. Psychiatrists are reluctant to give them out if you ask for them, but will give you insane amounts if you don't. ----- It's early. I'm going to head over to my house and try to get some cleaning in before the day heats up too much. | ||
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| Spiraling | ||
My mind has always been broken. I don't know how to fix it. I've tried to glue things back together, but they just fall apart again. It's been too many years. I don't want to do it anymore. I just want it all to stop. It all to go away. There is no good answer. I could just drug myself until I no longer can think. There are numerous options for that, many I can even get a prescription for. Not thinking every again has it's allure. It's sort of suicide by default. I don't know what's going on. I've been having ideations of shooting heroin. I've never shot heroin before, but I have constantly thought about doing it. I did heroin two times about 5 or 6 years ago. I snorted it both times. I don't know why I'm having these thoughts. It could have something to do with that strange slowly growing elongated bump I've had for months right on the inside of my elbow, where I'd most likely be shooting. There is a dull pain from it. A soreness. Maybe that's drawing my mind to that spot, and the potential for the now hidden vein under it. I know that everyone would leave me if I started doing heroin. Nobody would want to be around me. But I don't know if anyone should be around me anyway. I'm a fucking burden. I can't function at all. I'm a complete mess. I stay indoors most of the time. I feel trapped. I don't get any exercise. The walls are falling in. | ||
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| I Want | ||
i want to stop taking my meds i want to clean i want to smoke some pot i want to lay down and sleep i want to drink i want to cut i want to eat i want to starve i want to die i want to live i want to be i want to hide i want to get a job i want to write i want to care what happens to me i want to help people i want to save the world i want to destroy the world i want to do everything i want to do nothing i want to get a grip i want to stop wanting i want to believe i want to remember i want to forget i want to make up my mind i want to let it all work itself out i want to take charge i want to get rent paid i want to do a line of heroin i want to drop acid i want to break down the walls i want to turn on the lights i want to live in the dark i want to know what i want | ||
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| Drugs | ||
heroin i know it's bad i've only done it twice and that was 4 years ago but i really want to do it again that or opium something in that family i know it's bad i probably shouldn't i don't know where to get it anyway and i'm not actively looking but if it were to become available to me, i'd be so tempted drugs drugs drugs why am i so interested in drugs what is it about them that intrigues me so i talk and think about them quite often i talk and think about them more than i do them with the exception of pot and alcohol drugs other than pot are either too expensive or i don't know where to get them well, that's not entirely true i take valium from time to time but that's just another benzo i'm prescribed klonopin and ativan already i just like to rotate them so i don't get too used to one so i don't really consider valium "doing drugs" but technically it is again, what draws me to drugs? why do i even smoke pot? what is the lure? i can't answer that i'd like to talk to my therapist about that but my current one is so judgmental it's hard to have a real discussion about drugs if i still were seeing fatima it would be much easier she didn't think drugs were a good idea, but she didn't judge me because i used them we could talk about drugs without her freaking out about the question why do i do drugs? i can think of a million excuses but none of them feel real they're just excuses i sometimes say it takes the pain away but it really doesn't i sometimes say i'm looking for answers but i never find them i sometimes say i feel better but i just feel different maybe it's the difference maybe i am searching maybe it does help with the pain sometimes i really believe those things but right now they just sound like excuses to me this seems like something i should really figure out especially if i'm going to keep doing them | ||
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