Thursday, May 20, 2010

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.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Heya Anna -

I've missed you and your writing - it's good to be back here reading your blog. You've been having a hell of a roller coaster ride huh? That fucking suboxone messes with me the same way...makes me sick as hell and I refuse to take the shit. Hang in there and have them keep raising that methadone dose until you feel better. Email me soon!

noahtassitano@gmail.com

AnnaGrace said...

Noah,

I've missed you and your blogs. I'm following you on Twitter now. Although I don't think you've even one tweet. LOL!

So where have you been, what are you up to? Still working hard, and getting high?

Gledwood said...

isn't there something better they can give you to stop your mind racing than methadone?... i dunno: valium or something??

Caren Erin said...

They do, but I took them all.

Gledwood said...

dur I forgot to say:

smeewching, slurphing, glucking, clucking, slaping, slobbering sound effects ~ I hate 'em too

also it winds the living shit out of me being in a library where you are GLARED at for daring to talk or ~ far, far better, for taking a mobile phone call!! ~ yet where it's OK to have to endure clucky whispers, rustling of pages, the crinkle of sweet-wrappers, the tut-tut-tut of fucking middle class twats twipperling away some tutty conversation about French history. those noises really annoy the crap outta me.

plus I hate the smell of libraries, the furniture polish and plastic wrapping on all those snot-covered volumes

and pages some dement has felt it necessary to highlight endless paragraphs of in day-glow yellow, complete with their banal observations on life and politics

but I do love books!