self sabatoge
i love drugs. I love anything that can help me stop feeing the sadness, the weight of fear, the loneliness. and I keep pushing the limit. not on purpose…well, I guess anything I do is on purpose, but I'm not purposely trying to hurt myself. The ironic thing is we preached and preached to my mom to take care of herself and her diabetes or she would end up really hurting herself. She's dead. her liver stopped working because of how she treated her body. and now I'm doing the same thing but in a much worse way. I do a physical every year. I have my liver tested every year. I have my blood sugar tested every year. so far, so good. but it's luck. and i'm sure it will catch up with me. I have a doctor that enables me. it's strange…he prescribes me antidepressants yet sends me along with loads of opiates and benzos. i don't know the point of this. I guess it's to say, if I ever made a terrible mistake, if one day i did not wake up, it would never be purposefully, but I guess foolishly and right now not completely unwanted.