Sunday, May 30, 2010

Family ties.

Today was unlike a Sunday I've had in a long time. First off this morning I slept in until 9am. Then I got up and took my Methadone and one Clonazepam. By 11am I am nodding out and trying to hide it, so I retreat to my bedroom, and try not to smoke too much so I don't burn down the house. I fall asleep, and a few minutes later my mom comes in my room and says I have to get ready to go to my cousin's cookout in the country at her house with her family, her twin sister's family and her brother, and younger sister. So it was a bunch of happy couples with their kids. My mom and dad are normal and fit right in, but I'm the deepest black of the black sheep. My whole family is pounding back triple shots of vodka mixed drinks, and a beer in the other hand. They are alcoholics, but because the drug I use to relieve the monotony of every day life is illegal I'm considered bad to be around the children. I love my little second cousins so much, but I'm not allowed to be alone with them. I guess its my fault. I chose to use opiates, and don't regret it.

Everyone in my family was congratulating my parents on going back to Hawaii, and everybody asking me if I think I can make it for two months alone. I'm fucking 27 years old, I moved out of parents house at 18, and didn't move back in until I was twenty four. I lived on my own most of my adult life. Sure I fucked it all up by using Heroin and other opiates, but I made it out alive. This time I'll have Methadone, so even if I wanted to get high I couldn't because my tolerance is ungodly high. Plus I'll be alone for only two months, and I'll be moving down there in August for three weeks, perhaps longer if I decide to stay.

Also everyone wanted to see my wrists. See the scars left behind after my suicide attempt. Don't get me wrong I love my family, but my goodness are they nosey and judgmental. I wish I were allowed to play with the kids. They were throwing water balloons and it was roasting outside and I wanted to cool down, and they has 100 balloons filled with freezing cold water. I went over to play with them and their parents called them over to there side, and then my cousin came over by me and asked me not to play with them. Jesus Christ. They sure know how to hurt my feelings.
I can't wait until my mood stabilizers start to working. I don't want to feel like this anymore. Thank gawd I was numb to most of the shit they said because I took my methadone at 9:20am and by 1:20pm I was peaking and the Clonazepam was making me nod, and making my speech slurred. I did as little talking as possible.

I know most of you are going to say I deserved what I got, because I choose a drug over my family for so long.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Minds have been made up

The final decision has been made. I will be staying in Wisconsin while my parents move to Hawaii for three months aka 90 days. I will be visiting them the second month they are there. My counselor said this was OK. I have to be at a stable dose, and when I get to Hawaii it will be mandatory that I take my pshycotropic drugs in front of the nurse at the Clinic in Hawaii. The clinic in Hawaii is called Ku Aloha Ala Mau formally known as D.A.S.H. (drug addiction services of Hawaii)

This is my best chance to prove to my parents that I can live on my own and flourish. I will stay away from all illegal drugs, I will take my medication for Bi Polar, and I will be on Nurti-System, so I when I go visit my parents in Hawaii I will be thin. Thinking thin. I bought a smaller size bikini and pinned it to my wall. So every time I go into the kitchen and am going to eat comfort food I am seeing that bikini that I want to wear in Hawaii and will walk away from the kitchen with an apple instead of a candy bar.

Also my Physcitrist will be prescribing me Ritalin which takes away my appetite completely, and makes me want to exercise. The down side is it keeps me from sleeping much, and it makes my thoughts race, as if I was having a manic episode. There is a lot of differing opinions about weather a Bi Polar should be put on amphetamines, some in the field think it brings on sever manic episodes, which in turn brings on even worse depressive episodes. Some think as long as its taken appropriately it would keep a Bi Polar stable along with the mood stabilizers, and the Risperdone for my delusional thinking, and my Clonazepam for my panic attacks, and Lexapro for depression, and Thryroxin for my thyroid problem.

While my parents are gone, I have two months to think about where I'm going to live after they get home. I will also be saving the money I'm getting from Social Security Disability. My parents offered to pay for my rent, my T.V. and my Internet. For food I'll be on Nurti-system. I will still get food stamps, but I won't have any need for them, so if I can find somebody willing to pay me cash for my food stamps. I think I could talk a Friend into using my food stamps and buying their food with it, and giving me 90 dollars for 115 dollars worth of groceries, put that money in the bank with the 675+85+90=806 dollars if my calculations are right. I'm terrible at math so please don't rag on me if I'm wrong. I don't have a calculator handy. So when I go to Hawaii I will have saved up 1,612 dollars. That would be put in the bank in Hawaii(if I decide to stay after my parents come back to Wisconsin) and I would put the four hundred + four hundred and seventy five a month in the bank every month, and use the rest as petty cash. I will also have food stamps so my eating money is taken care of. The 200 in petty cash will go towards the sliding scale fee for my stay at the hostel. If you stay in a hostel for over a month you start having to pay a sliding scale fee. Depending on how much you make from SSI and welfare, you have to pay a sliding scale fee for rent. I just remember that today. I could also buy a tent and live in one of the homeless beach cites. That always seemed like fun to me. A tent on a beach in a community of homeless families. Sure you have your crazy person, and drug addict in the little homeless communities, but most are just Native Hawaii people who can't afford rent after the Japanese took over and built all these expensive high rise apartments. I could also look for a nanny job that pays cash. Hopefully a live in nanny. So I could put away all my money and live off my cash pay

I keep falling asleep. So that's about it for now. I will probably blog latter on today about something totally different. Your probably sick of hearing about my parents moving to Hawaii, and what I might do when I get there.

Thanks for reading. Welcome to my newest follower. #67.

Friday, May 28, 2010

To be or not to be.

So decisions have been made, and some of them I don't like. Turns out my parents don't want me to go to Hawaii with them. They want me to stay home, and take care of Eleanor my dog. They want me to stay home because I need to keep seeing my phycitartist. There are alot of reasons, btw the real main reason is because when I come back to Wisconsin from Hawaii I won't be allowed back in the Methadone clinic. If I had a regular supply of Heroin or even Dilaudid I would be fine, but I don't. Here in Green Bay Heroin is way over priced and cut to shit. I would have to go to Chicago every week. That would break my bank. I only 675 dollars a month from Federal government plus 85 dollars a month from the state. Right now I'm getting my Methadone for free. My insurance pays for it. Both in Hawaii and here in Wisconsin. My parents and the clinic will let me visit them for a month. I was thinking if I go to visit them in Hawaii their last month there, I would just stay.

In Hawaii they have really great services for people on SSI. For instance the government would pay for me to stay in a Hostel until a housing unit would become available where I would only have to pay whatever I can afford. Also in Hawaii I can get alot more money from the state, Four hundred a month plus the Six hundred and seventy five dollars. ( the number four on my keypad doesn't work so I have to spell it out) So that is over 1,000 dollars a month. While I'm in the Hostel my 675 dollars a month would be cut in half because they are paying for my housing. If my housing is being paid for then my food stamp money would be more. It's easy to get people to give me cash for the food stamps. Especailly families where the parents are alcoholic. They need the food stamps so they don't spend all their cash on alcohol and leave their children to starve.

The Methadone clinic in Hawaii is alot easier to maneuver. Plus if I get kicked out of one I can go to the other one. There are two on the island of Oahu in the city of Honolulu.

So I stay here with Eleanor for two months by myself. Then on the last month they are their, I would go, and would get everything set up so I could live there after they leave. I would leave Eleanor in a great Kennel for small dogs, where they always have a person there to take care of them, and they even have a TV on because most small dogs are used to having a TV on all the time. They get four ours outside everyday. The cages they have to be in overnight are huge for a dog the size if not smaller than a newborn baby. The size of a bunny is more accurate. It would only be three weeks. 21 days. My aunt Debbie would go to visit her at least once a week.

A positive part of being left alone for two months would be I rarely eat when I live by myself, I sit naked and do alot writing story after story. Some loosely based fiction, and alot of non fiction. Also I would have access to all my parents Credit cards. Well all two of them, and one debit card. I will loose weight which is never a bad thing, and I will have the privacy to bring a man to my house and fuck him. Gled did you ever want to visit Wisconsin in America. LOL! This probably embarrassed Gledwood. BTW, what is your real name Gled? Is it Gled?

So what do think about the new plans? Should I go with them right away, and say fuck the Methadone clinic, and just never come back? If my plans fall though as they are now, and when I visit them in Hawaii, and if I decide I don't want to stay there, because I want to move to New York City or anywhere else instead. I am a fickle person, but what if I come back to Wisconsin and stay here for a few months in between? I have no methadone, and the only way for me to feel normal is to use illegal drugs.

Do you think I should go with them right now? Leave with them on the 3rd? I need some feed back. I would like some feed back, but you don't have to comment. This blog is rather boring. As I've said before, like you people give a fuck about these mundane parts of my life. Who cares if I'm in a pickle over going to Hawaii of staying here and visiting my parents in Hawaii after I'm stabilized on my Methadone dose.

I thank you for reading my blog. I means alot to me, and to all my new followers, thank you. I should thank Shane aka Heroinhead for posting a link to my sight and for posting my ode to him on his blog. Shane has an amazing blog.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Its back to Hawaii for me

I'm moving back to Hawaii on June 7th. I don't know what happened with my parents, but my mom got a call for a job in Hawaii a few days ago. She summited her application and now we are flying out in a few days. We have to leave my dog behind with a cousin. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I need to get out of Wisconsin. I guess all my complaining about living in the country has rubbed off on my parents. They are even sort of excited to go. We found that our tickets are only going to be 500 dollars a peice. I have to change all my social security shit down to Hawaii. I have lots to do in the next few days. So I better get to it. Sorry so shot. I will update tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010


Gled this one is for you!!!

Wisconsin is hellish. The closest biggest city is Miluakee which is about an hour north of Chicago. I love Chicago, its where I used to go to buy large amounts of dope. China White babe. I do have friends belive it or not, but I've put myself in exile. Why? I'm not even sure. I just do not like people unless I am high. Maybe I do like people too much and can't bear to watch all the suffering we put eachother thru. Meghan is my closest freind. We met in my first rehab, the actuall 28 day inpatient treatment center in Green Bay WI. She was the only other IV Heroin addict. We bonded immediatly. She has the same brand of dry humour I like to think I have. Meghan and I have a weird relationship though. We use eachother to get drugs. If I have something in exess I call her, and if she has somthing in exess she calls me. We like to share with eachother. If something bad happens to one of us we are there for eachother in an instant. I love Meghan with all my heart. I love her baby Sophia too. Since Meghan became a mother its like she knows somthing more than I can know, and I know that is true. A mothers love for their child is something only a mother can know.

I'm forgetting your email already. Why did she put the spoon on the cheese?

The fact that your NEARLY forty makes no diffrence to me. Give me another good reason. I'm still all about a photo. I haven't checked you blog yet today, so if its up I appoligize.

Hawaii. As I've said before, I looked at the past with rose colored glasses on. As soon as something is taken away from me I am instantly nostaligic. I must be one of those narracisstic assholes who only appreciates something when its gone. (took that last sentence from Kurt's suicide note) So I miss Hawaii dearly. Mainly though I miss the city. Its like I need a big city to function. I need to know there is a dealer in Chinatown that I can call at a moments notice. I need a bus or subway to get where I'm going without a fucking car. I need lots of people around me so I can hate all of them except the one or two I pick out as dear friends. I tend to attach myself to people. I find one person I can really be genuine with and in my mind and body that person is as dear to me as my family. I'm saying dear way too much. I love people with accent and I can't help but mimic them when speaking with them. I swear on my sister's grave that I do it uncousiosly. Really any city will do, any English speaking country. I count three of them, USA, England, Irealand...wait four Austrailia. No I never got sick of Aloha. Its a beautiful word which means love. Your always greeted with love.

I have a question. Do they have an equivalant to Social Secutity Disabilty in England? Just curious. Just incase your wondering what your reading, pretty much a email to Gled. Those of you who don't know Gled should go check out his blog Gledwood main blog vol. 2 go to my profile and see it in the blogs that I read.

I have more to say, but I'm on the phone with Meghan.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Justin is a Rose.

Imagine yourself floating, your eyes wide open watching the sun move in the sky. Its sweterling hot outside. The ocean's waters are cool, and your lying on your back floating. Letting the currents take out deeper and deeper. Suddenly someone is beside in the ocean, floating on the same currents. You look over and see that it is someone you love, and you reach your hand out and the other person reaches their hand out, and you hold hands and just float. Hours pass and not a word spoken, but the electricity flowing thru the both of you is dangerous, ex specially in water. Your bound to be electrocuted.

That is how I felt when I met Justin. I was 22, and my friends Emily and Josh had come to visit me and Pete (my boyfreind) in Green Bay. They brought along someone I didn't know. His name is Justin, and he is Josh's bestfreind. I've herd of Justin before, but this is our first meeting. I am immediately attracted to him. I had just shot up 16mg of Dilauded, and I'm nodding off every couple of seconds. I'm trying my hardest to stay awake for my company. Justin notices the syringe on the table. I forgot about it laying there. I normally hide all evidence of my use as soon as I'm done shooting up. I know that Emily and Josh are not shocked to see the syringe. They have known me as a user for, four years now. As an IV user for going on nine months. I'm worried about this Justin guys reaction. Will he ask to leave now?

To my surprise, Justin asks if we mind if he fixes here. Pete and I both say, "by all means, have at her. If you want to have some privacy you can go into the bathroom." He is sitting on the love seat with Emily and Josh. He pulls out a black fanny pack from his back pack. He unzips his fanny pack, and walks over to the open chair. I grab a glass of water for him to use.

He goes to the needle exchange. I've never gone there, so when he pulls out a little tin with a garbage bag tie around it so you can hold it like a minuter frying pan, I am curious. He also has little cottons and these blue tubes of water. He smiles at me when I bring him the glass, and says, " oh no, I go to the needle exchange and they give out these clean water tubes, and these little cottons along with these cookers. I'll take the water to drink though". We all watch as he cooks up. He's got brown sugar Heroin. Another first for me. I've only known China White around these parts. I ask where he got brown sugar. He tells me his sister lives in Florida and she sends it up to him via Fed Ex.

I watch as he fixes. Right after he pushes off, I ask when his birthday is. He is an Aries, I've always dated Aquarius like myself. Right after I ask the question I can tell the 5 seconds have past and the shot is giving him the first rush. Emily and Josh are bored, I give them both a beer. Me, Pete, and Justin are all nodding off, dropping cigarettes left and right. I open my eyes and notice Emily and Josh are getting ready to leave. They shake Justin out his nodd, and ask him if he wants a ride home. I immediately say, "if you want to stay and watch a movie with us your more than welcome. I can give you ride home whenever." He slumps over, and I hear him say yes in a whisper. I take that as he is staying here with us. Pete goes to the bathroom. I can hear him tossing his cookies. When he comes out he says I'm going in the bedroom to rest. He leaves me and Justin to our own devices. I put in my favorite movie, Royal Tenenbaums, and Justin walks over to the couch where I'm sitting.

I fall asleep. When I wake up Justin's body and mine are intertwined. He is sound asleep, I run my fingers along his jaw softly. I admire his face, and body. He is so much prettier than Pete. I remember Pete just then, and I untwin our bodies, and go to see what Pete is doing. Its dark out now, and Pete is gone. He left a note saying he went to the bar. I worry about him using and drinking. He always does this. He says its to save on dope. When he gets drunk he passes out and doesn't need another shot until the morning. I walk back into the living room and notice that Justin is awake. We are both thinking the same thing, "I need another fix." I ask if I can have a taste of his brown sugar. He cooks up a shot for both of us. We both have a hard time finding a good vein. At almost the exact moment we both see a dark blood rush in, its hard to see in this brown liquid if you hit a vein. I decide that I hit, and I push the plunger in and I was right I hit the vein.

I feel the warmth of the Heroin flowing thru me. Justin takes my face in his hands, and pulls me close to his face. He asks me if he can kiss me. I don't answer, I just lunge forward and kiss him. I pull his shirt off, and he pulls mine off. Pete could be home any second. I want to keep kissing him forever. We are both naked, but he doesn't try to enter me, he seems content just kissing me up and down my body, and letting me do the same along the length of his body. We end up falling asleep again.

When we wake up, and its morning. I don't even bother to look for Pete. I want to have sex, so I kiss Justin and get on top of him. He is hard in seconds, and I slide his penis into my moist vagina. I ride him slowly at first. He rolls me over and into doggy style and pound against me harder and faster. It feels so good. We both haven't taken out morning shot of Heroin, I feel the slightest pangs of withdrawal. With the withdrawals I know I can cum so I rum my clit. Justin's hand is over my hand, and we move into missionary position. I rub my clit and I cum. I scream out, "fuck me hard and deep". He does as I commanded, and within minutes he pulls out and cums all over my breasts. We light both light a cigarette, and I don't even bother to wipe his cum off me. I start to prepare my morning shot, he does the same.

After I feel better, I look in the bedroom and Pete never came home last night, or he did and found Justin and I naked on the couch. If that happened he probably went to his dad's house. I don't care either way. Me and Justin get dressed. He asks me if I want to stay at his house tonight. I say yes, and we gather out things together, and I grab my keys and we are off to his house.

After that day Justin and I are inseparable. I tell Pete I found someone else, and he moves out of the apartment. I have no idea how I'm going to pay rent. Justin and I get into the routine of two junkies. I go the doctors and scam out of them Dilauded. We both sit around alot waiting for his dealer to call back. Justin prefers Heroin to the Dilauded. I do too, but Dilauded keeps the sickness at bay and its much cheaper. We are always broke, and the power, and water gets turned of at both of our apartments. I'm too broke to pay my rent for two months. I get a notice that I'm being kicked out of the apartment. Everything starts to fall apart. I realize I need Pete. Pete can hold down a job and still use. In the end I go back to Pete, and he pays the rent. I leave Justin. I wanted to stay with him, but if I did I would end up homeless. Pete takes care of me. I go where I know I will always be able to afford drugs. I love Justin more than Pete, and Pete knows this. Yet Pete loves me more than I deserve, and we get into a routine of using. It lasts four two more years.

In the end I steal 600 dollars from Pete to buy Heroin, and its the last straw for Pete. He breaks up with me, and kicks me out. I don't bother Justin with my problems. I haven't herd from him in months. I go back and live with my parents. My dad's supply of Morphine and my supply of Dilauded will keep me well for a good amount of time. My mother and I end up moving to Hawaii for a year. I come back and get on Methadone. Time passes I move around alot. In and out of my parents house. I never forget Justin though.

Now it is today. The sun is out, and it hot as hell outside and its only 7am. I drive to Green Bay to get my dose of Methadone. I get there and who do I run into? Justin. We look at each other and I begin to shake. He asks me how things are going in my life. I tell him OK. I ask him about his life, and he tells me he has a daughter now, and a baby on the way. I congratulate him. I feel my heart sink. I'll never have him how I want him. We didn't have much time to talk. Its my turn to dose. I do so quickly. I walk out the door and say good bye to Justin.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Me. Stalker?

Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person that you are.
~Kurt Cobain~

Fuck, I should take his advice. Consider it taken.

Did you know I luv the show Tru Blood? The Eric character is super f'ing hot. Plus I love the nudity. Its like porno for girls. Also Michale Pitt is in a new seris on HBO. Its directed by Martin Scorcese, writen by the guy who wrote The Soprano's. Its about gangster's in Atlantic City in the 1920's probition era. I'm not too into period peices unless they have to do about drugs or alcohol. Prohibtion is all about alcohol. I do believe I will watch it to see if I like it.

Enough of the bullshit. Like you care that I like the show Tru Blood. Some of you don't even live in America, and don't know what I'm even talking about.

Hmmm, can't think of anything else anyone would be interested in. I might just delete this post.
I am thinking about writing a fan letter to Michale Pitt. Isn't that pathetic!? Who the hell writes fan letters aside from stalkers, and teenage girls. Wait a mintue I do have an excuse for myself. I started using drugs, I mean hard drugs at the age of 17, and when your hooked on drugs you don't mature emotionally, so in reality this means I'm still 17 in my head. Which is NOT a good thing, but it is an excuse for wanting to write a fan letter to some dude that I don't even know in reality. Should I send a naked picture!? LOL!
Can you imagine being famous and having people send you photos of themselves naked and fan letters telling you how much they like you? Its sort of like getting comments on you blog. Along with good come the bad. The more popular the more bad comes along, but then even more good comes along.
Fuck it, I'm not that pathetic that I would write a fan letter to some pretty much anonymous person. Just thinking about it is embarrassing.

I saw the movie Date Night. Pretty funny. Thats it. I didn't get high off my Methadone today. Just normal. Oh well.

Saturday, May 22, 2010


I've walked close to eight miles today. For no good reason at all. I'm not at inspired to write, but here I am. For no good reason at all. Today the Methadone clinic upped my dose ten milligrams by accident. Its only suppose to be five milligrams a day. So I'm itchy, and nodding out. The thing about my Methadone dose is it really kicks in three hours after you take it. That's when it peaks. So I'm out walking these back country roads listening to my Mp3 player and I start to nod. I can't fucking believe it. I'm all itchy, and I keep dropping my cigarettes. My mom says my words are slurred, and well I'm just in heaven. Its lasting forever, plus I have my Sunday take home dose which I'm thinking about taking at like midnight so I can get high again right away. If I do that tho, I won't be able to get high tomorrow. I won't be sick, but I won't be high.

This heavenly feeling is making me realize there are no problems. I'm safe as can be in this cozy little place, and the sky is so overcast that the hole inside me is all healed. I'm as whole as I've ever been. I need this to last. I'd much rather be on Heroin even now, but this feeling is as close as it comes to being high on Heroin.

That's all there really is to say right now. Tonight Methadone will be the boy laying next to me while I lay in the fetal position sobbing. Tonight Methadone will be the boy with huge veins I can trace along the leanght of his arms and up to his neck. He will wipe away all my tears. He will keep me from crying at all.

I've got to go.

Friday, May 21, 2010

I'll show you my dark secret.

I can't write blog while listening to music. I will hear something beautiful and can't help but steal it and want it to be my own. As per lastnights blog. I'm glad to say my dose today had made me feel that warm glow. My emotions gone just like the winter. I can handel to read that perfect email today, and not want to claim the authour as my own. I handed over all my pshycotropic drugs to mother who is organizing them and will be making sure I take them everyday. My councler at the Methadone clinic is now making me bring my medication in every morning when I come to dose, and having me take them infront of the nurse before she doles out my Methadone juice.

I have to tell someone about a secret I've been keeping. Not just from the people who read my blog, but my family and few friends as well. Usually I pour out everything about myself onto this blog and let you all read and judge. As if I were so interesting that you would want to know even the most mundane details of my life. Which does make me way to full of myself.

I've made no secret that I'm Bi Polar, but I also have a diagnosis that I've kept to myself. Mainly because I'm embarrassed of it. I'm just going to come out with it. I'm Bi Polar with delusional thinking. I let my imagination blur with reality, and will end up with a delusion. For example, when I was in jail I thought the president was trying to communicate with me thru the T.V., and I would make the other girls watch the same channel everyday and I would have to turn the volume up to a certain number because that was the frequency that the President would contact me on. He would order me to watch and listen to what the guards said and did whenever I could. It got so bad one night, I was in such a desperate way. I followed a guard out of the cell block, he didn't notice me behind him at first. As soon as he did noticed me I became very agitated and had be put in four point restraints, and sedated with Haldol. That was my most recent delusion. I haven't had one since.

Also, I'm so uncomfortable with who I am, its easier for me to slip into a character. I would have probably made a great method actor, but unfortunately I haven't the looks nor the body to get into film. Since I'm poor I'm considered crazy, if I were rich I'd be eccentric.

When some anonymous person tells me to kill myself, as happened in my last post, I feel deeply hurt. How could someone who knows what I think about want me to die? Thank God that my methadone dose made me numb today because had I been feeling when I read that comment I probably would have let it keep me from blogging today. Someone, actually alot of anonymous people tell me they wish I would just get it over with and kill myself already, and I just don't understand why they would want me to be dead. To not exist any more. I can't think of any good reason other than what I've written has horribly offended them or bored them to death.

Now you know my dark secret. I've put myself out there by writing this, and every comment bad or good I deserve. No comment I deserve more. Seriously, there is nothing the least bit interesting about me that one should feel the need to comment about it. Don't get me wrong I love comments, but I don't feel I deserve them. I don't think I deserve as many readers as I have.

My delusions are rare, and have only happened four times since I was twenty. Still its the main reason I was given SSI so easily. The first time I summit ed an application they gave it to me. The delusional thinking along with the bi polar that no doctor has found the correct meds that keep me from cycling completely. I'm always cycling...even now.

So there, you know it all. I'm bat shit crazy.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

All I ever see around her are things of hers.

I'm really sad right now. I got an email and it was perfect, and I'm watching this movie that I really like. Its called " I love your work". Its about this movie stars decent into madness. I have a headache, and I swear to you there is no such thing as true love.

My mind is a very fragile thing. Too much of something or too little of something and there is no coming back for days. I lay in the fetal position and cry and cry, then I let my imagination blur with reality. Sometimes for days and days my parents will have to put up with me living as I imagine Courtney Love would, or as some imaginary person I made up. Most recently her name was Jody.

Right now my Methadone dose is way too low, and the shock from the Suboxone has taken its toll. I admit I'm not taking my medication, and that is another reason I've been blogging so much, and so non scenically. I can't fucking eat. I fucking eat when I'm sad, and I'm sad without wanting to eat. I probably have a hunger headache plus too many cigarettes.

Every five minutes I feel I HAVE to write something down. I grab a notebook, or the laptop and just write. Not five hours ago I was able to write coherently. Now my thoughts are all disorganized. I want to write an email back, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm at a loss. I'm disappointed in myself. I wish I could crawl into someone else. I wish for just a minute I had someone to lay next to in the fetal position. I wish someone would wipe my tears from my eyes. Right now they are streaming from my eyes, and I can't pinpoint exactly what made the water works flow. My room is a mess, and its really smokey in here even though I have a fan in the window. My really soft 2000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets have juice spilled all over them, and I have cigarette burns in every blanket I own from nodding out.

I feel like an idiot kid. Wearing some clothes that don't even match. I called my friend and she made me laugh. The only thing we talk about is opiates and benzos. I guess there are only two things I really love to talk about, opiates and benzos. I wish I could play the guitar. I can't be myself, I can't be by myself, I want to be quiet whenever I want. I'm taking the cure. I'm gonna drink, drink, drink, until this hole in my soul is gone.

I JUST WANT TO FALL IN LOVE. No back dream fuckers gonna boss me around. You can't help me get over Kurt Cobain. I need to take a shower, and I wanna fight fate. You think I ought to shake your motherfucking hand. Come here by me, I want you here by me. Nightmares becoming real, its so fucking clear. I'm going to drink my self in to slow mo. Anything to pass the time. All we have is wine. All you do is read my words that all just a long drawn out wine. I'm dreadful sorry. Nobody would have me how I am. I don't want to walk around. I don't even want to breath. I live in a small town where all I can do is grit my teeth.

How come your not saying a word. I'm sorry your the one I regard. Nobodies looking now, no-ones about to shout. I wouldn't have you how you are. There my headache is going away. I think I can breath a bit more freely. Wait I need to smoke. Here we are were stupid shit collides. I keep looking at my healed track marks, and noticing veins that are supple ready for a poke, and I can't help wanting to kiss a fresh track mark, trace along a boys body his huge veins. Tie a tourniquet around his arm, puncture the skin and slip the needle into his huge vein, watch the blood blossom in crimson, push the plunger in. Watch his pupils constrict, his body slump as the warmth of the shot pulses throughout his body. Watch his jugular pulse and rush the blood to his head. Kiss his Jugular. Touch his neck. There is nothing more sexy than watching a man shoot up for his first time. You know your watching a beautiful car wreck. Watching as the wave of nausea hits, and he runs to the bathroom to vomit, and you know its a good vomit. A good shot, not wasted. How little dope it took to get him high. How much it took me to get just as high.

I want someone to deliver me my Heroin. I want someone to kiss my fresh track mark. There are no huge veins on my body anymore, just large tracks up my arms and down my hands. I want someone to show me around Alphabet town. I know what you are I just don't mind. Its what I want.

I'm just a junky girl, you can do it if you want to. I traced your footsteps in reverse up to Queens. I wouldn't be a hero if I wasn't such a zero.

I hate the country.

I was woken up this morning by the TV, I herd lips smacking. I hate it when I'm watching a movie, and there is a kissing scene, and they put the microphones right up in there, so you can hear every move of lips, tongue, saliva, smacking. It reminds me of sloppy sex. Don't get me wrong I love to kiss, and I love sloppy sex, but when watching it on TV, I'd rather they keep the smacking to a minimum. It was only six thirty in the morning and I don't have to be awake for another hour. I try to fall back into dreamland, but I'm all keyed up. It feels like I just took a shot of Coke. My heart is racing, my mind spinning, my breathing laboured.

I felt the same exact way right before I fell asleep, and now that I'm awake again it feels like there wasn't six hours in between this feeling. This is why I prefer downers to uppers in my drug addled world. I'm naturally tweaking. My body and mind are just naturally on uppers. I can't watch T.V. because I loose interest in moments, I can't listen to music because I want to hear whats next. I have to really put effort into sitting still for a movie. I have to really like the movie first off, and I have to be in a certain mood.

The only reason that I get up and out of the bed is because I know I will be getting Methadone. I saw the Doctor on Wed. and he is upping my dose five milligrams every day. I'm now at forty. Its not near enough to settle my mind, or my heart. I know by the time the sun sets I'll be in slight withdrawals. I'm out of Clonazepam, so I am withdrawing from those, which could account for the feelings of having done coke. I have no appetite, no patience, I want to be at the fucking clinic now.

My dad offers to take me to the clinic. Thank God, I can read the whole way there which will keep this spinning mind under control. I have to call my only friend Meghan today. I've been too sick, and too keyed up to talk to her lately. She hasn't called me because she knows what its like. What its like to be crawling slowly back up to a stable dose of Methadone. Taking time out to try and keep up a conversation is impossible, when all your thinking of is how much it fucking sucks to be in a treatment program when I could be out there getting a real high on Heroin.

Its hot out here in Wisconsin today. Reminds me of Hawaii. Now I have all those thoughts to struggle with. I knew blogging today would be hard. Hard for me to follow a single thought through and put it into words. I miss the city, all this country like a punch in the nose. It hurts me. Brings tears to my eyes and I can't stop them. It just an instant reaction. My parents love it, but me their offspring cannot take it. My damn dog needs it, and loves it, but me I fucking HATE, HATE, HATE it.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Fish guts

Did I ever mention that my mom is Wiccan. She's followed many religions in the past 27 years of my existence. Now that she's Wiccan, though I like her alot more. I've always loved her, but as a Pentecostal, FUCK was she a bitch.

Love hangs herself with her bed sheets in her cell. Ten good reasons to stay alive, ten good reasons I can't find. OH give me a reason to be beautiful, so sick in his body so sick in his soul. Give me one reason to be beautiful. Love hates you. I live my life in ruins for you. And for all your secrets kept. I squashed the blossom oh the blossoms dead. I will make myself so beautiful.
Miles and miles of perfect skin I swear to you I fit right. Miles and miles of perfect sin, I said I fit right in your perfect skin. Hey baby take me all the way. I"m faded like a rose, give me a reason to be beautiful. So sick in his body so sick in his soul. I'll give you my body just sew me a soul. And they say in the end you'll get bitter just like them. When the fire goes out you better learn to fake, its better to rise than fade away. Hey you were right, named a star for your eyes. Did you freeze, did you weep, turn to gold, baby sleep. Hey honey mine I was there all the time. And I weep at your feet. It rains and rains, its no moooore.

So I bought this spell book, and soon I'll be planting the onions needed to cast a love spell. I know these things come back at you three fold. Boys used to love me without spells, now I love them without spells, so does that even everything out?

Don't steal my heart away.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

I don't want see nobody, I hear nobody, I don't take you home.

Life is what? Fuck I don't even know how I feel. Being back on the Methadone is a good thing...I guess. When I was on the Suboxone I felt every little thing, every word of every song reminded me of some point in my life, and every memory brought tears to my eyes. Now once again I am pretty numb. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather be numb than an emotional wreck.

I'm only blogging because I can't sleep. I just masturbated three times in a row, to a photo of Michale Pitt, after listen to his band Pagoda and the song Alone, I also watched the movie Silk with him in it. I figured I was wet from watching the movie that I may as well get some satisfaction out of it. Now my mind is spinning, and not even Radioheads, Kid A album can settle me down.

I'm sure as my dose gets higher this not being able to sleep because my mind is racing will go away. I will hibernate until I find someone who I can stand to be around for more than a few hours at a time. Even my fucking parents get on my nerves after a half hour, and I have to retreat to my room. I find no satisfaction from T.V. any longer, and movies only keep my mind busy for an hour or two.

I want boys to fall in love with me. I want them to fall at my feet, name stars after my eyes. Bury themselves in my skin, throw me against the wall and fuck the shit out of me. We could go out and score dope together. Its always less scary and more exciting to score dope with someone you really want to be with.

To find that person I can't hibernate, I have to go out and meet people. Ugh!! Just fall in love with me on the computer, and travel thousands and thousands of miles to come save me from my self. Read all my blogs and figure me out. Take me to places I will never know and then just take me home.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Something I can't enjoy, I'm just a toy

My obsession with Nirvana front man Kurt Donald Cobain has become unbearable for me. The man shot himself 16 years ago, and here I am screaming and crying, cussing out the universe for letting him kill himself. Kurt was the last real Rock Star. Don't get me wrong I looooooove Elliott Smith who also took his own life by stabbing himself in heart in 2003 at age 33, but Elliott was not nearly as popular as Nirvana's Kurt Cobain. Both were Heroin addicts. Both were tortured souls, and the music they left behind them is like a gift from the universe... that I cuss out as we speak.

I look at their suicides, mainly Kurt's, and I say to myself I won't be leaving behind anything the masses will enjoy, nothing the masses will take into their hearts and love. Why do I want to please the masses so much? Who gives a fuck about them? I hate most people. In jail, and in the mental institution I wouldn't speak to anybody because I had a hatred for them I cannot describe. The only thing that keeps me from locking myself up in my own basement naked with an few grams of Heroin is, Methadone. Somehow the Methadone puts up a little cocoon for me.

For me, life feels like everyone is trying to pick me with a sharp pin, and the cocoon Methadone puts me in keeps those pin sticks from penetrating me. Where I'm going with this I don't know? I'm just so raw emotionally right now.

I listen to music and am torn into pieces, my Methadone dose is definitely not at a high enough dose to keep the cocoon thick enough to keep everyone from sticking me with pins. To keep the words from songs from sticking me like a pin cushion.

The one thing I do know, is I have to let go of Kurt Cobain. He is dead! I can still enjoy his music, and I look at pictures of the beautiful boy, but I will never meet him. Love will never blossom between he and I. I'm left behind to find love from a living breathing human being. With this knowledge I know I should not want to use Heroin. It ruins lives, if it doesn't ruin your life this year it will next year. Opiates fell into my life out of nowhere when I was 17, and ten years later they are always falling into my lap.

For instance. One day I was sitting in the mall, I had just taken my Methadone and a handful of Xanax, and a guy comes up to me, and buys me lunch while I nod out on him, when he leaves he leaves behind a tiny superman Ziploc bag with a point of H in it. I never mentioned to him that I was addicted to opiates, I never asked him for anything. What I would have him rather thrown at me is a bag of Xanax. I still have that tiny point of H. This happened about five months ago when I first moved back to Wisconsin from Hawaii. Since then my tolerance has been too high for me to shoot up the point, I would just waste it, and I can't do that. So I keep it in a very private place, a place no one but my demented mind would ever think to look.

How this blog ties together you might ask? Well it doesn't. I just want to be able to love my fellow human beings and opiates help me do that. I want to get brain surgery and get rid of my obsession with Kurt Cobain. Knowing myself as I do, after I herd his music again I would somehow find a way to worship him again even after having him erased from my brain.

I know I'm the song you hate, but can't let go. I hope somebody finds this entertaining. Its so hard to keep moving on, sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and wish life away.

I love and hate all of you.
Anna Grace

P.S. I probably hate people, because I hate myself and want to die. I know the answer, how do I fix the hatred, and wanting to be accepted. How do stop all the contradictions in my life?

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Shane from France, HeroinHead is my cyber dildo

I think all of us who read HeroinHeads blogs are always excited to read a new one, and when he finally births a blog I have a little ritual that I do. Let me tell you all about it.

I have all Shane's blogs emailed straight to my yahoo mail. Every day when I check the mail I'm on pins and needles hoping and praying that one of HeroinHeads memoirs will be in my inbox. Even though he only blogs about twice a month I have my kit next to me everytime I login to my email. My kit you wonder, yes my kit.

First off my kit consists of a bag of works. Those of you few who read my blog and don't know what "works" are I will clue you in. Every junky has a bag of "works", which includes a spoon, a hypodermic syringe, cotton, and a tourniquet to tie off with. Even though I don't have Heroin, and am on Methadone, I still cook up some water and get ready to put it in my vein. Mainly because its like masturbation for me.

My kit also consists of KY Jelly, a red rose fresh weekly, my works, my laptop, privacy. I open the blog, and begin to read the words on the screen. I read thru the blog the first time fast, not taking it all in. Just getting the jist of it. The second time around, I can't help but be seduced by his words, and imagery. I read it slowly, sometimes reading aloud to myself imagining Shane telling me the story face to face, with a silver tongue. Since Shane lives on a different continent I substitute a rose for him.

His blogs never fails to give me the most intense cravings for Heroin, and the most intense sexual arousal my body will allow with a brain full of Methadone. After I've read the blog through and through, I can't help myself, I cook up the water, and get a shot of water ready to introduce into my veins, but before I inject I use the KY Jelly to masturbate, right after I come, I shoot up the water, and it almost feels like that heavenly rush of a nice shot of Heroin. No matter how dark the post, how much horror he tells about his past, or how funny. I always imagine Shane naked in his office naked, using his mom's bra as a tourniquet trying to find a vein when his boss pops in and finds him in such a perdiciment. This by far is my favorite blog of his.

Shane has three times as many readers as I do, and I totally understand why. His words are like the cum shot for a porno addict. I am in awe at how his mind works, and I don't even know the man. I never will know the man in real life, but in this cyber space on this voo doo screen Shane aka HeroinHead is my dildo.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Oh well.

I've awoken with a stomach full of liquid shit, I run to the bathroom and piss out of my anus. I haven't had an opiate or opioid in five days. The Suboxone I started on Monday thru me into instant withdrawls, and since that day I would have preferred a gun shot wound to the head to being dope sick.

This morning though, this morning I had something to look forward to. After many calls yesterday I had gotten myself back into the Methadone clinic. The Doctor took me back, after everything I've gone thru since December 15th. Sick and excited I wipe my ass and run to the car. The sky is still pitch black, its only four thiry in the morning, but I have to get to the clinic.

I can't finish this right now. Long story short I did get dosed, but I'm only at thirty milligrams, and I'm getting sick again. I will be at only thrity milligrams until Wed. when I see the Doctor face to face, and he can up me.

I shant complain, at least I got my methadone. At least I can breath somewhat more freely. My parents are of course disappointed in me, but if that were not true I wouldn't be me.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Suboxone Sickness

I'm off the Methadone. I am suppose to be on the Subonxone, but when I started to take the Suboxone yesterday I had too many opiates on my receptors and the Narcan in the fucking Suboxone thru me into immediate withdrawls. I haven't been that sick since I don't know when, since I was using Heroin in Hawaii and would run out for a day or two. Yesterday I was so sick I just couldn't move, talk, think, pet my dog, eat. Nothing.

So this morning I figured yesterday the Narcan in the Suboxone got all of the opiates in receptors out. So I suffered through yesterday thinking I just have to wait to till tomorrow.
I wake up this morning and I take a small dose of the Suboxone, and yet again I go into immediate with drawls. Still to many opiates on my receptors. The sickness isn't as bad today, but the mental suffering is like I lost my best and only friend in the world. I am crying as I write, I've been crying all fucking day.

The worst thing is that there is nothing anybody can do for me. I just have to wait it out. I HATE SUBOXONE. I'll keep getting the pills, but I'm taking them, I using my SSI money to buy Heroin. Fuck this, I want to be nodded out in heaven with my dog. I want a boyfriend so bad it hurts.

Having these photos of Kurt Cobain and Michale Pitt on my wall next to my bed isn't helping me out at all. Listening to Nirvana and Pagota, and The Flaming Lips. My favorite song Jesus Shootin Heroin, just makes me want my mom to drag me out into the field and take a shotgun to my head and put me out of my misery like a horse with a broken leg.

Oh God, I am so fucking suicidal its embarrassing because I can't load the fucking gun and I don't know where my parent hid the bullets. Trying on pills is just fucking pointless. It takes too long. I just wish I could get the gun loaded, and get a enormous shot of Heroin and kill myself. I have nothing more than my love of opiates keeping me alive. Well I guess that is a lie, but without opiates I am not me. My brain has been completely rewired and it needs opiates to feel normal, just normal not good.

I do not regret using Heroin or Hydromorphone, I don't regret putting a needle in my arm and I never will.

Please God, please let the Suboxone work Tomorrow.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

More blogs to come. I'm so sorry...I am alive.

I promise by tonight I will have an update on my life as soon as possiable. I'm just not feeling it right now. I want my blog to sound adult, and well written. Both those things I can't bring myself to write right now.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Jesus stole my girlfriend

Every day, every afternoon. Tried so hard, but I lost to god. I thought you were my freind but I'll guess again. I look to the clouds god gives me a frown. This time this trip I'll sign son of bitch.
I'll smile and I'll and I'll wink, I don't think like you do girl. Jesus is here and he ate up all of my pills. Jesus stole my girlfriend.

I wrote a prayer and I made it out to you, angels herd and know what to do.

Violent Soho

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Getting off Methadone

The day before. I was exuberant in fact. I had made my decision. I kept telling my parents how much I loved them, and was spending an abnomaraly large amount of my day with them. I was ready very ready. My death date was pretty much ready to be put on my headstone. If I had, had the money I would have gotten all my funeral arrangements together. I laid down the list of songs I wanted played at my funeral. Pretty much all Elliott Smith. I thought it was fitting. I was watching my last T.V. shows, finishing my last book. Giving my dog her last kisses from me. The day went by so fast. When ten o'clock rolled around my parents went to sleep, and that was when I had my only hesitation. I wanted to run in the room with them and give them both my last goodnight kiss.

At ten I went into my room and began preparations. I wrote a the note. Explained myself to the best of my abilities. I ate my favorite food...fruit roll ups. I watched my favorite three movies one last time, Wrist Cutters a Love Story, Royal Tennabaums, Twilight. By then it was three in the morning, and I had to get down to business.

I had a razor blade in a jar on my nightstand, and I took it out. I turned my hands palms up showing my wrists, and I pulled the blade across my skin. It hurt so the first slice was hesitation marks. Still blood spilled from my arms. So I went to the right wrist and pulled the razor blade up my arm and I pushed down with all my might. I sliced through the veins, and blood oozed out. Quickly I went back to the left wrist, and I tore the razerblade up my arm as hard and as fast as I could.

After that, I took about 50 Tylenol PM's, 90 Clonazepam, and I threw in 15 Percocets for good measure along with a hand full of my dad's blood pressure medication. As you can imagine it took only minutes before the Clonazepam and Tylenol PM's took affect and I was asleep bleeding profusely. I fell asleep in a postion where my wrists were the blood was slowed down. I had them laying on the mattress.

I fell asleep at around four A.M. I had at least two full hours to let the medication and the blood loss take effect. Six O'clock rolled around and my friend Megan called, and my dad opened my door to give me the phone, where he found me bleeding and unconscious. The suicide note was laying on the floor near my door.

I don't know what happened first hand after this, but from what I've been told. An ambulance was called, and I was brought to the local ER here in Oconto Falls where my mom used to work, and where everyone knows everyone. Where my mom also learned that a shit load of people in Oconto Falls read my blog. Three people came up to my mom and told her that they read my blog on a regular basis. The told her that I was blogging about suicide and drugs. Duh. That's all I know. One of the nurse's daughter's read my blog, and the nurse was telling my mom I shouldn't write about this stuff on the Internet. WTF! Some people are so fucking stupid. Anyway that is aside from my point.

First thing the doctor did was stitch up my arms. Second he put a catheter up my yhoo, and took a drug test. My mom forgot to tell the doctor that I'm on 100mgs of Methadone a day. So they assume I OD'ed on Methadone and Narcan me. Thank God I was unconscious. After they narcaned me and it did nothing to help they had my parents go to the house and try to figure out what the hell I took. The only thing they could figure out I took was the Tylenol PM's. Which by this time had gone thru my system, and there was no way to undo what I had done. My liver was in for a hell of a ride. I guess my blood pressure was dangerously low, and I was in for some heart problems. Oconto Falls ER couldn't move to a hospital in Green Bay by ambulance until I was in stable condition.

After an hour of keeping my parents out of the room, they let my mom in too see me. She said I was blue, which means my body was shutting down, I wasn't getting enough oxygen. My blood vessels were constricting, and my organs were shutting down. It was hard for the nurse to find any veins in my body. After being a IV drug user for seven years, and having my blood vessels constricting it was nearly impossible for them to find a vein. They ended up using a needle they use on newborns, because all they could find was a small vein in my arm next to the old vein that used to my main line. The vein I could always hit no matter what, that was until it collapsed on me. Fucking vein.

Anyway, they couldn't get me into stable condition, so they transferred me by ambulance in critical condition. In the Auroa Hospital in Green Bay they gave me something to wake me up. I woke up in complete and utter with drawls. Plus I could speak normally or move. So they had me write down the medications I took. After I woke up I kept taking my IV out because I was extremely pissed off. I fucking failed, and I was dope sick, and the doctor kept saying your lucky to be alive, and I started fucking swearing at him, and made him get the forms for me sign so that I could be DNR, aka do not resuscitate papers.

By this time my mom had told the doctor that I was on Methadone maintenance treatment. My mom said the doctor just rubbed his chin for a few seconds thinking to himself. Then he realized that is why I was screaming for Methadone. They couldn't give me any methadone until I was in stable condition and that took two fucking days. For those two days there was a nurse's aid sitting within hands reach of me so that I didn't try to kill myself again.

On the third day my liver began to fail, and it was the most pain full thing I ever felt. I was vomiting, and in sever pain. So much pain that the doctor gave me morphine even though he knew I was an addict. The morphine they gave me didn't touch the fucking pain. Then they gave this medication that smelled like sulfur or rotten eggs, and I had to drink it. I refused to drink it. Then my friend Megan came up to the hospital and she was crying and crying, and they kept coming my room to try to get me to take this medication and I would not take it. It made Megan cry even more, so finally I took one of the doses in front of Megan to stop her from crying.

I could hardly breath, and I was vomiting every few minutes and my liver hurt like a son of bitch. After I took that dose of the medication that tasted and smelled like rotten eggs I started to feel better so I took it every four hours and it stopped the pain, and finally the doctor came in the room with ten methadone pills for me. By this time I was in stable condition and was getting out the next day. I wasn't going home though, I was going to Brown County Mental Health now known as Nicolet mental health center. It was a new building. It was much nicer than the old Mental Health center in Brown County. We had private rooms, and a place to go outdoors. Two different lounges, and in both lounges they had huge flat screen T.V.'s.

While in the nut house I got my methadone everyday, and my Clonazepam's along with other phsycotropic drugs. I was there four two weeks exactly. I had to go to court twice to see if I should be released into society or if I needed to be hospitalized for up to six months. Luckily after two evaluation from two different doctors I was deemed no longer a danger to myself and was made to take my medication, and attend counseling once a week for what will probably be the rest of my fucking life, and I was released into my parents custody.

I got my Sunday take home Methadone doses taken away, because the doctors at the Methadone clinic thought that I might try to save up my take homes and kill myself with that. Good call on their part, I had planned on that course of suicide. I didn't give a shit when they took away my take homes, because while in the nut house one of the doctors that evaluated me was the Suboxone Doctor. I had looked into Suboxone before and found that there were no doctors in the immediate area that were taking on new patients. Some how when the doctor who wasn't taking on new patients said he would take me on, even though he wasn't taking my insurance nor new patients, he said he though I was smart and savable. Non of which I believe, but whatever, at least I'll get off the Methadone, and on Suboxone, and back on Ritalin which helps me write alot better, and also keeps me skinny, and helps me reach goals I set for myself.

So on June 11th at 11 A.M. I will no longer be a patient of the Methadone clinic. I will no longer crave carbs, and I won't sleep all day, and I will have extra energy to work out really hard and I'll also be on Nurti System, and I will be skinny by this winter. Also by this winter I will have five thousand dollars saved, and I will be moving to Hawaii. Going to Hawaii Pacific University.

See I'm not suicidal any more. I'm excited about the fucking future. I'm so glad to be getting off the Methadone. I can't even convey how happy I am to get off this shit. I'd rather be strung out than on Methadone. The fucking shit made me fat as I've ever been, it took away my libido, and makes me sweat like I'm some kind fat sweating machine.