So sick in my body, so sick in my soul. I live my life in ruins for you. Oh Heroin, my love burns through everything. I cannot break. Hey baby take it all the way down. I'm faded like a rose.
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, and it rains, and rains, its no more.
I wake up flushed, I can smell my hair, and it smell good. Suddenly I'm in a hurry, but its only 5am. I hurry up and brush my teeth, and change my underwear and clothes. I grab my purse, and a drink of water. I go out to the living room, no-one else is up. I unplug my phone and I walk out the door. I get in the jeep, pull seat closer to the steering wheel, turn the radio station to 106.7FM, adjust my mirrors, and back up out of the driveway. I look at the gas tank and its full thank god. My dad went to the bar last night and usually when he goes out I have to put gas in the car the next morning. This morning I still have to stop at the gas station to get cigarettes and some water and something sweet.
I'm driving slowly because its so early and the clinic isn't even open yet. The sun is just coming up, but its cloudy out so it seems more dark out than it really is. I have my headlights on. There is a good song on the radio, the White Stripes. I haven't herd them in a while. I don't have them on my MP3, and I think to myself why don't I have them on there? I hear the weather forecast on the radio and its suppose to rain all day. This makes me happy, as we all know I love gray, rainy days. It keeps the hole inside me from feeling as though it is ripping through me like a sawed off shot gun blast. This does mean I can't go for a bike ride, but that's okay, I went for a really long bike ride yesterday and my legs still hurt today from that ride. Today I'll just read and write. No TV. Nothing is on during the day except for the Science channel, and Discovery Channel. The Movie channels repeat movies and I think I've seen them all. I think TV rots the brain anyway. My brain is almost completely rotted away from the boob tube. I do love the movie The Big Labowski, and can watch that movie every night for a month without rotting my brain.
While driving down to the clinic I let my mind just spin. I though about everything from the apartment we will be moving into on September 1st to doing laundry. I was rather excited to move out of this shit hole and into the apartment on the For River in Green Bay where my room will be rather large and I'll have my own bathroom. What I'm most excited about is that I'll be able to have my queen size sleigh bed in there with my dressers, and I get to decorate it. Which means I get to paint this huge canvas I have. I'm buying a white down comforter and I want either a violet color scheme or a red one. So I will decide when I paint that canvas. It will be the center piece of the room. Its not going to be a painting of anything, it will be an abstract. Just colors and shapes. I'm much better at those, although I can paint poppy plants rather well. The only thing that sucks about moving to Green Bay is moving back to Oconto Falls when the house is ready. That time I really am claiming mental health issues and getting out of moving. Two men and a truck can move me. They can move me this time too.
I get to the clinic and the clinic has only been open for about a half an hour, and nobody is there. Even if there were people there I would just go up to the window and dose, but this time I don't cut in front of anyone. I'm out even before the song that was on the radio before I went in is done. On my way home the rain starts to fall. I chain smoke, and just listen to the radio, try not to think of anything. I can't help but think about blogging. I wonder what I'll write about today. Nothing interesting has happened since I last blogged. I just want to get home so I can get on my phone and play with it. I swear its like crack, can't wait for that next hit. Ever since I got my phone, when I'm reading, and I put the book down, I'll pick up my phone to check my email and read the comments on my blog. Its like I can't stop.
I finally get home, and I run in the house to get out of the rain as fast as possible. I pull my phone out of my purse, and check my old email address, the one that all my blog comments go to. I have seven comments from this morning. All anonymous. Another one from "a blast from my past" I leave a long comment back to this blast from my past. I put a big discrepancy in my post yesterday about what happened after I smashed up my roommates stuff that Katrina would have noticed so I know its not Katrina. I never slept over at Katrina's house, I slept at my own house even after they begged me to sleep at Katrina's house. I knew I had to face the Piper. I just wanted to get it done and over with.
"Then I got this comment from another anonymous, but I think its from my ex Pete. This is what it said,
"Think of how you have hurt me. Broken dreams, broken promises...
but, addicts just make everything about them. Always, the world revolves around them. Nobody else has feelings. Nobody, but them gets hurt.
You just use whoever as long as you get your drugs, or smokes, or dog, or use of the car. Now you'll use Jess like the rest. Then you will fuck his life up too.
That's what you addicts do. Leave a trail of hurting people that love you. Love you too much.
~I don't want my daughter to grow up and someday be hassled by kids at school. I don't want people telling her that her parents were junkies-Kurt~"
If Pete wrote the above comment I had no idea he felt that way. In my only defence, I had told Pete when he first met me that my plan in life was to become a strung out junky and write a book about it. He still fell in love with me. Pete used drugs with me. When Pete and I first met we liked each other, but we didn't do anything about it. I lived in Oconto Falls he lived in Appleton. I was best friends with his sister who lived in Oconto Falls. It wasn't until his other sister got married, at her wedding that Pete and I became inseparable. He ended up getting fired from his job a week after the wedding and he came to Oconto Falls and moved into my parents house and we were together twenty four seven. I was at the beginning of my addiction. I wasn't physically hooked yet. I still had some sense of right and wrong. I didn't use people up and spit them out yet. It wasn't until 2 and an half years later that I lost direction and began using Pete. I got myself physically hooked, and would have and did do anything to get my hands on opiates. I stole money from him, I lied to him, I cheated on him, I was an all around bad person to him.
As for me doing the same thing to Jess. That is a low blow. I'm older than I was, and in recovery. When I relapse I feel like shit emotionally the next day, and hate myself and want to die. I have triggers. One of them is going through Menasha. Another one is getting my feeling hurt emotionally(even if I do it to myself). I had felt those triggers on Sunday and guess what happened? I relapsed. My busies are yellow now, almost gone. I'm not going to keep that much cash in my checking account anymore, so I can't get to it as easily.
I promise myself and Jess that if I ever go back to Heroin I would totally break off even sex with him. I won't hurt him with my selfish behavior. I now have my own income from SSI, and I don't need Jess for money. Plus I know that Jess wouldn't stay with me like Pete did if he knew I was using.
So those comments gave me something to blog about. Still this blog wasn't a very interesting one. It was mostly one for me to vent. I was mostly pissed that he said I would do the same thing to Jess, but I promised I would only write one paragraph about Jess from now on, so I stuck to my guns. Now I sort of blew it because here I am writing more about writing about Jess. Stupid isn't it.
Time for spell check.