(no subject)
you know its funny. i dont even GET high anymore off the stuff, but if i don't do it, i'm sick as a dog and wish i was dead, and for the most part, i already am.
i've put some pounds back on during my stint in jail, which was about the longest time without anything in years. 2 months, petty charges of course, because they're all too stupid to nail me for anything big, putting me away, although would mean major headlines, it would also mean i would expose the sick twisted fucks, right under the noses, wearing badges and carrying guns. i know about the underworld all to well.
i got out of prison, came home, and shot up. it doesnt phase me, it's become my life. a line off the kitchen table while reading my mail, a needle in the vein after i get out of the shower. it's like taking medication, every day, as many times a day as perscribed, at this point, it's anywhere from 3-7 times. i haven't been to see my doctor recently, even though i've supposedly had appointments with him. my heart is probably in the same condition it was years ago, broken, and ready to give out. i don't get the sharp stabbing pains anymore, they've changed to a dull ache, all the time. i think that's just my soul inside, or what's left of it.
sadly, when i was in prison, my dog died. i got word of it via a letter the neighbors daughter sent to me. i miss him. dogs are irreplacable, like people i guess. it feels very lonely in the house without him, and i often find myself calling for him, but showing to no avail. it is the first thing in awhile i have actually felt. a sense of loss. another dog will come along, but it wont be the same.
i spent yesterday at my old shop, hanging out, doing what i could to stay out of trouble. no tattooing, or piercing, but cleaning up, and dealing with customers. i still hold a dominating prescence there, as if i still am the owner, it makes me think twice about what i do, and i think i may open another one, and try to get back into tattooing. it was my livlihood, i lost it when i started to get the shakes. they're gone now, why, i have no idea, i can still draw, so i can probably still tattoo, i kept a lot of my equipment.
i've also been thinking about moving away from michigan, in attempt to get completely clean. i know leaving here, and going somewhere where i know no one, is the only thing that in the end, is going to save my life. sell the house, and whatever, and just go. it wouldn't really bother me, because there's nothing that holds me here. material posessions are worthless. i'm getting up there in years, and maybe that dull ache i mentioned, is my own little way of saying i'm growing bored of this, and want something new.
i had a girlfriend not that long ago. after i got out of jail. she moved right in here, and tried to suck me dry. snorting my income up her nose, and shooting mybills in her arm. worse than me, it was terrible. she took off in the middle of the night, taking 3500 dollars, and my last pack of cigarettes. i felt remorse when i woke up for having no cigarettes. i didn't see her for about 3 weeks, and then i came home from doing some errands to find her sitting on my couch, in ratty underwear and one of my old wifebeaters watching my tv. sketched out, and desperate, with money gone, and no one to supply, she'd come back. they always do. i went into the bedroom to lie down, not saying anything, what the fuck do i care. she came and tried to fuck me. i pushed her off and she kept trying to suck my dick, begging for a hit. i'm such a sucker. i watched her snort a line off my belly, and shot my shit down her throat. she crawled into my bed and slept for 3 days. 3 days, i spent calling around to see who she ripped off. i knew that was the case, she came to me for protection, and in return, i gave her up. i got a hold of this guy, and told him where she was, and that i had no intent of stopping him, if he should decide to drop by. drop by he did, escorted her to his car, and that was that.
i've come across so many people in my life that are like me, i can hardly stand it anymore. even as fucked up as i am, i still have morals. i still have values, buried, but exsistant. i've never fucked anyone, ripped anyone off, turned people in to the cops, anything. i'm solid, and i guess that's why people like me. i'm a man of my word. i dont know where i learned it from, but it must have been from somewhere. there is this great potential, for me to turn my life around, but there is the undenying desire not to. i don't know how to be legitimat anymore, and i fear it. i'm not a 9-5, suit and tie kind of guy and i'm far from stable, emotionally anyway. i sat on my basement floor tonight, and looked at old photo albums. even as a kid, i was never happy, there's always been this looming potential for disaster over my head. my destiny, is exactly what i have become.
can people change? no. i think they just fake it.
i've put some pounds back on during my stint in jail, which was about the longest time without anything in years. 2 months, petty charges of course, because they're all too stupid to nail me for anything big, putting me away, although would mean major headlines, it would also mean i would expose the sick twisted fucks, right under the noses, wearing badges and carrying guns. i know about the underworld all to well.
i got out of prison, came home, and shot up. it doesnt phase me, it's become my life. a line off the kitchen table while reading my mail, a needle in the vein after i get out of the shower. it's like taking medication, every day, as many times a day as perscribed, at this point, it's anywhere from 3-7 times. i haven't been to see my doctor recently, even though i've supposedly had appointments with him. my heart is probably in the same condition it was years ago, broken, and ready to give out. i don't get the sharp stabbing pains anymore, they've changed to a dull ache, all the time. i think that's just my soul inside, or what's left of it.
sadly, when i was in prison, my dog died. i got word of it via a letter the neighbors daughter sent to me. i miss him. dogs are irreplacable, like people i guess. it feels very lonely in the house without him, and i often find myself calling for him, but showing to no avail. it is the first thing in awhile i have actually felt. a sense of loss. another dog will come along, but it wont be the same.
i spent yesterday at my old shop, hanging out, doing what i could to stay out of trouble. no tattooing, or piercing, but cleaning up, and dealing with customers. i still hold a dominating prescence there, as if i still am the owner, it makes me think twice about what i do, and i think i may open another one, and try to get back into tattooing. it was my livlihood, i lost it when i started to get the shakes. they're gone now, why, i have no idea, i can still draw, so i can probably still tattoo, i kept a lot of my equipment.
i've also been thinking about moving away from michigan, in attempt to get completely clean. i know leaving here, and going somewhere where i know no one, is the only thing that in the end, is going to save my life. sell the house, and whatever, and just go. it wouldn't really bother me, because there's nothing that holds me here. material posessions are worthless. i'm getting up there in years, and maybe that dull ache i mentioned, is my own little way of saying i'm growing bored of this, and want something new.
i had a girlfriend not that long ago. after i got out of jail. she moved right in here, and tried to suck me dry. snorting my income up her nose, and shooting mybills in her arm. worse than me, it was terrible. she took off in the middle of the night, taking 3500 dollars, and my last pack of cigarettes. i felt remorse when i woke up for having no cigarettes. i didn't see her for about 3 weeks, and then i came home from doing some errands to find her sitting on my couch, in ratty underwear and one of my old wifebeaters watching my tv. sketched out, and desperate, with money gone, and no one to supply, she'd come back. they always do. i went into the bedroom to lie down, not saying anything, what the fuck do i care. she came and tried to fuck me. i pushed her off and she kept trying to suck my dick, begging for a hit. i'm such a sucker. i watched her snort a line off my belly, and shot my shit down her throat. she crawled into my bed and slept for 3 days. 3 days, i spent calling around to see who she ripped off. i knew that was the case, she came to me for protection, and in return, i gave her up. i got a hold of this guy, and told him where she was, and that i had no intent of stopping him, if he should decide to drop by. drop by he did, escorted her to his car, and that was that.
i've come across so many people in my life that are like me, i can hardly stand it anymore. even as fucked up as i am, i still have morals. i still have values, buried, but exsistant. i've never fucked anyone, ripped anyone off, turned people in to the cops, anything. i'm solid, and i guess that's why people like me. i'm a man of my word. i dont know where i learned it from, but it must have been from somewhere. there is this great potential, for me to turn my life around, but there is the undenying desire not to. i don't know how to be legitimat anymore, and i fear it. i'm not a 9-5, suit and tie kind of guy and i'm far from stable, emotionally anyway. i sat on my basement floor tonight, and looked at old photo albums. even as a kid, i was never happy, there's always been this looming potential for disaster over my head. my destiny, is exactly what i have become.
can people change? no. i think they just fake it.