(no subject)
trying to remember my first hit today, of both heroin and coke. not together of course, but individually. it's been so long it's impossible to tell one needle track from another. the first form the last and all the ones in between. i can't remember is the honest truth. whether i've blocked it out, or simply forgotten i don't know, but it's gone all the same. just like 3 days ago. i can't remember shit. mainly because i don't want to. what kind of person wants to remember watching themselves slide a needle into their vein, or scraping fine powder into a little line on the coffee table? no one.
i saw one of my old best friends today with his kid. it's unbelievably surreal to see him. almost a feeling of envy washes over me. i see him hold his little girl, and see her cling to his neck, shying away from me. i felt like she could sense that i was a fucked up person, but he said she was just playing shy. anyway, we spoke briefly, we don't have much in common anymore. we used to be in the same boat together. he never was as deep as i was, shooting every so often, snorting once every couple of weeks, but helping me run drugs all the same. upon discovering that life held so much more value to him, he left it all behind, including me. now he's a father, a single father, but working his hardest to keep a good life. makes me think of my own daughter, and a sharp stabbing pain jabs into my insides. the knife called reality, knowing that i've long since wasted my chances of ever having something like that.
throughout my lifetime, i've loved and lost, but never been broken. i've always been the one leaving, the one running out on people, the one swallowing the feelings, no matter how great and real they might seem to be. i don't fear the committment, because i could, i've done it before. it's the fear of bringing someone else into my life on a long term basis. i've obviously got problems, and i'm a known woman assualter. something i'm not proud of, but when i'm high, i can't control it. sounds like a lame excuse, and it is. there's no reason for that. i watched my mother get smacked around until i left, knowing that nothing would change. she was weak and stupid, i swore back then that i would never end up with someone like that. i'd choose no one over someone like her. they say you marry the person that reminds you most of home, your spouse resembles your father, or mother in many ways, and it's what draws you to them, in my case, it's done nothing but drive me away from people in general. i've learned that no feeling is worth anything to me, really. i've tried, and watched myself kill it slowly, dragging the other person down with me. shutting them out, and shutting them up. i often refer to myself as a machine, simply because i refuse to let myself feel anything, hurt, fear, anger, love, i can't, because it sets up for disappointment in some form or another, or leads to trouble. secretly, on the inside, that one tiny part of my very core that has not turned black yet, and still holds nerve endings to all the things i've shut out of my life and lives still, longs for it. passion, burning so hot that if ignited, it would consume my very being. fortunately, i am cold, and it closes in slowly, killing off anything that still might make me a person.
in one of my stints in rehab, one of the better places i've been to, my counsellor at the time, david told me something. he said that every junkie comes to term with their life at some point, and that very moment defines the rest of the future. very vague. he should have said something a little more inspiring. i frankly think it's bullshit, i came to terms with my life a long time ago, and accepeted it for what it is, because it is what i have made it. rehab is just an excuse for people to bitch to someone about their problems or a temporary solution sought out by courts and police officers that simply don't get it and are too busy to deal with it. i saw a girl the other day, about 18 i suppose, i can't be sure. sitting on the bench down from my house, she was all strung out. she's been using for a long time and i can tell, she's pale and sick looking. she looks like death, much like i look actually, only younger, and a lot more feminin. she was itching, and her eyes were hallowed out, because as i know, drugs will steal your soul, and you will give it to them with a small price. i took her home with me. for company or because i know what it's like to be in great need and not have anything. we sat in my basement and shot together. she started asking me questions that would make sense to no one but us, and i supplied answers to the same degree. irritation occurs quickly, and i've had no patience as it is. finally, i told her to leave, and she begged to stay. for a split second, i got it. you go through your entire life, wanting to be accepeted, even if it's from someone you know is worse off than you. she wanted to be wanted. by someone, by anyone. i didn't let her stay, attachments are not something i'm good with, especially ones like that, who would simply mooch off you, and if you ever turned her down, she'd have the cops breathing down my fucking throat.
people are snakes, and they'll fuck you. enemies are people who'll shoot you between the eyes, and friends are people who will stab you in the back. and you, you're no better. if you can read that, and scoff, thinking that i'm an idiot, shake your head fucker, because you're just as guilty as i am.
i saw one of my old best friends today with his kid. it's unbelievably surreal to see him. almost a feeling of envy washes over me. i see him hold his little girl, and see her cling to his neck, shying away from me. i felt like she could sense that i was a fucked up person, but he said she was just playing shy. anyway, we spoke briefly, we don't have much in common anymore. we used to be in the same boat together. he never was as deep as i was, shooting every so often, snorting once every couple of weeks, but helping me run drugs all the same. upon discovering that life held so much more value to him, he left it all behind, including me. now he's a father, a single father, but working his hardest to keep a good life. makes me think of my own daughter, and a sharp stabbing pain jabs into my insides. the knife called reality, knowing that i've long since wasted my chances of ever having something like that.
throughout my lifetime, i've loved and lost, but never been broken. i've always been the one leaving, the one running out on people, the one swallowing the feelings, no matter how great and real they might seem to be. i don't fear the committment, because i could, i've done it before. it's the fear of bringing someone else into my life on a long term basis. i've obviously got problems, and i'm a known woman assualter. something i'm not proud of, but when i'm high, i can't control it. sounds like a lame excuse, and it is. there's no reason for that. i watched my mother get smacked around until i left, knowing that nothing would change. she was weak and stupid, i swore back then that i would never end up with someone like that. i'd choose no one over someone like her. they say you marry the person that reminds you most of home, your spouse resembles your father, or mother in many ways, and it's what draws you to them, in my case, it's done nothing but drive me away from people in general. i've learned that no feeling is worth anything to me, really. i've tried, and watched myself kill it slowly, dragging the other person down with me. shutting them out, and shutting them up. i often refer to myself as a machine, simply because i refuse to let myself feel anything, hurt, fear, anger, love, i can't, because it sets up for disappointment in some form or another, or leads to trouble. secretly, on the inside, that one tiny part of my very core that has not turned black yet, and still holds nerve endings to all the things i've shut out of my life and lives still, longs for it. passion, burning so hot that if ignited, it would consume my very being. fortunately, i am cold, and it closes in slowly, killing off anything that still might make me a person.
in one of my stints in rehab, one of the better places i've been to, my counsellor at the time, david told me something. he said that every junkie comes to term with their life at some point, and that very moment defines the rest of the future. very vague. he should have said something a little more inspiring. i frankly think it's bullshit, i came to terms with my life a long time ago, and accepeted it for what it is, because it is what i have made it. rehab is just an excuse for people to bitch to someone about their problems or a temporary solution sought out by courts and police officers that simply don't get it and are too busy to deal with it. i saw a girl the other day, about 18 i suppose, i can't be sure. sitting on the bench down from my house, she was all strung out. she's been using for a long time and i can tell, she's pale and sick looking. she looks like death, much like i look actually, only younger, and a lot more feminin. she was itching, and her eyes were hallowed out, because as i know, drugs will steal your soul, and you will give it to them with a small price. i took her home with me. for company or because i know what it's like to be in great need and not have anything. we sat in my basement and shot together. she started asking me questions that would make sense to no one but us, and i supplied answers to the same degree. irritation occurs quickly, and i've had no patience as it is. finally, i told her to leave, and she begged to stay. for a split second, i got it. you go through your entire life, wanting to be accepeted, even if it's from someone you know is worse off than you. she wanted to be wanted. by someone, by anyone. i didn't let her stay, attachments are not something i'm good with, especially ones like that, who would simply mooch off you, and if you ever turned her down, she'd have the cops breathing down my fucking throat.
people are snakes, and they'll fuck you. enemies are people who'll shoot you between the eyes, and friends are people who will stab you in the back. and you, you're no better. if you can read that, and scoff, thinking that i'm an idiot, shake your head fucker, because you're just as guilty as i am.