(no subject)
The familiar, rising burn of early stage withdrawl.
The prickling beads of sweat just breaking down my forehead. A slight increase in heart rate. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump...
The heat, from the inside, just under the skin. From right above your lungs, just under the heart. There's cool air on your back, for now. Soon, you won't be able to tell.
The twitching bulges deep in your calves. Like ants, digging into your muscles, somewhere far below. A visceral and too-familiar yawn that you can't push back down. That leaves a certain taste in your mouth that you will never forget.
More than any of it, though, is a deep sense of fear. Panic. Dread. A glance at a phone, or a wallet. Knowing that this is out of your hands, now. That it has never been in your hands.
I didn't think this was where I'd be, now.
I thought a lot of things, I guess, a long time ago. I thought I would have written more, honestly.
The leaping highs and crashing lows of a just-too-large to handle habit, and just too small to manage.
It's funny that now everywhere I turn, every time I say these words, people have this...reaction. Their eyes flash with anger or judgement or sadness or loss. People are terrified of what I have become. Someone like me has taken everything from someone they loved. From them. From you.
Ultimately we are all just chemicals and electricity. I've said it before, and someone before me. This is just another chemical. These are just more impulses. Why must everyone make them so much more complex than they are?
It boggles my mind that people are thrown in jail for this.
Even going to that meeting...
It seems so self-deprecating. It may be a disease, it may be a mental illness, but must we take twelve steps? Must we admit powerlessness?
I feel like so many more lives would be saved if we could just stop demonizing or trying to add things to this to take it beyond what it is. If you have a disease, treat it. If you are experiencing physiological symptoms, take measures to reduce them.
I guess everyone wants to be treated like they're unique. I guess I'm no different in this. I just feel like everyone wants to make this so much harder than it should be.
PS, my life is falling apart, what little experience I have scraped together into a "career" is in tatters, I have no goals, I am spending my time between being sick and getting my fix just, for lack of a better word, just waiting. Languishing, possibly, I don't know.
I wish I could sleep more often.
I can't help but feel like I didn't get enough help. That getting it was too hard. That despite how enlightened we might be nowadays, all the systems we have in place are all wrong. I get the feeling everyone feels like nobody should have to feel, though it may sound cliche.
Does competition foster greatness? Should we even have to work hard, anymore, for opportunity?
Shouldn't we be in an environment where we can be allowed to find our passion and pursue it with gusto?
I suppose I, if anyone, have had that opportunity and squandered it. But should I even be in the position to squander it based on circumstance?
I just feel like everything went deeply wrong somewhere.
And I have no qualms with those twelve steps, I'm just not interested in demonizing myself while taking them. They seem to me quite applicable as general life philosophies, not just for addicts who need to be saved from their horrible plight.
I wish I could sleep for many years. Wake up old and grey, under a tree somewhere. Rip van winkle. See what magic futures lie ahead, after all this has been figured out.
Well. I'm going to try and sleep with the ants, again.
Take pity on me, tomorrow, doctor. Lay your hands upon me so that I may be healed by your grace.
Goodnight.
The prickling beads of sweat just breaking down my forehead. A slight increase in heart rate. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump...
The heat, from the inside, just under the skin. From right above your lungs, just under the heart. There's cool air on your back, for now. Soon, you won't be able to tell.
The twitching bulges deep in your calves. Like ants, digging into your muscles, somewhere far below. A visceral and too-familiar yawn that you can't push back down. That leaves a certain taste in your mouth that you will never forget.
More than any of it, though, is a deep sense of fear. Panic. Dread. A glance at a phone, or a wallet. Knowing that this is out of your hands, now. That it has never been in your hands.
I didn't think this was where I'd be, now.
I thought a lot of things, I guess, a long time ago. I thought I would have written more, honestly.
The leaping highs and crashing lows of a just-too-large to handle habit, and just too small to manage.
It's funny that now everywhere I turn, every time I say these words, people have this...reaction. Their eyes flash with anger or judgement or sadness or loss. People are terrified of what I have become. Someone like me has taken everything from someone they loved. From them. From you.
Ultimately we are all just chemicals and electricity. I've said it before, and someone before me. This is just another chemical. These are just more impulses. Why must everyone make them so much more complex than they are?
It boggles my mind that people are thrown in jail for this.
Even going to that meeting...
It seems so self-deprecating. It may be a disease, it may be a mental illness, but must we take twelve steps? Must we admit powerlessness?
I feel like so many more lives would be saved if we could just stop demonizing or trying to add things to this to take it beyond what it is. If you have a disease, treat it. If you are experiencing physiological symptoms, take measures to reduce them.
I guess everyone wants to be treated like they're unique. I guess I'm no different in this. I just feel like everyone wants to make this so much harder than it should be.
PS, my life is falling apart, what little experience I have scraped together into a "career" is in tatters, I have no goals, I am spending my time between being sick and getting my fix just, for lack of a better word, just waiting. Languishing, possibly, I don't know.
I wish I could sleep more often.
I can't help but feel like I didn't get enough help. That getting it was too hard. That despite how enlightened we might be nowadays, all the systems we have in place are all wrong. I get the feeling everyone feels like nobody should have to feel, though it may sound cliche.
Does competition foster greatness? Should we even have to work hard, anymore, for opportunity?
Shouldn't we be in an environment where we can be allowed to find our passion and pursue it with gusto?
I suppose I, if anyone, have had that opportunity and squandered it. But should I even be in the position to squander it based on circumstance?
I just feel like everything went deeply wrong somewhere.
And I have no qualms with those twelve steps, I'm just not interested in demonizing myself while taking them. They seem to me quite applicable as general life philosophies, not just for addicts who need to be saved from their horrible plight.
I wish I could sleep for many years. Wake up old and grey, under a tree somewhere. Rip van winkle. See what magic futures lie ahead, after all this has been figured out.
Well. I'm going to try and sleep with the ants, again.
Take pity on me, tomorrow, doctor. Lay your hands upon me so that I may be healed by your grace.
Goodnight.