Thursday, December 30, 2010

Self induced orgasm. I'm sick, but I think the cold meds I took made my clitoris sensitive. More sensitive than normal, and I took advantage of it. Pictured Kurt Cobain while fingering my clit.
I just had a orgasm. Its been awhile. Thought I'd share.

Sore throat

Its warm out today, and all the snow is melting. Going outside for a smoke is like stepping out into a rain storm, all the snow melting on the porch above us. The ashtray is full of water and cigarettes. Tomorrow its suppose to be warm out again, but the next day, New Years Eve is suppose to freeze again and all those cigarettes will be frozen in that water.

I woke up this morning with a sore throat, and body aches. Right now I feel sick to my stomach. The last time I showered was Christmas Eve. Today all I've done is lay on the couch and try to sleep. I took my Adderal so its nearly impossible to sleep while that toxin is running through my system. I also have a sore toe, I clipped my toenails yesterday and must have not gotten a toenail all the way out and now its ingrown. Soon it will be puss filled. I'm in a mess. My life is in total disarray. I just want to run away and make a home somewhere else. I want to be rail thin, and I want men to fall at my feet. I think those years have passed me by.

You know I often want Heroin to make me feel better, right now I don't even think Heroin would make me feel better. Its been so long since I've been high that I've forgotten what it feels like. Maybe its just the way I'm feeling right now. When I was on Methadone I never got sick. Since I've been off the Methadone a month and a half I've gotten sick now two times.

My parents went to go see a movie today, so its just me and Eleanor home right now. If I wasn't on this stupid Suboxone I would take some Percocets. It would just make me ill if I took them now. I'm in such a pissy mood. I can't keep my thoughts on one single thing. I think I'll take some Clonazepam and Tylenol PMs and just sleep this day away. What sucks about sleeping when I'm sick is I have nightmares.

I'm going to go gargle with salt water, and take a shower. I have to, hopefully it will make me feel better.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

This is for Gledwood

I'm on a lazy streak, no showers, no nothing today. My class is over, and I have nothing to do during the day. I got to read a lot of good literature. I wrote a few good papers, I got a B in the class. I'm a B writer. I wish I had the talent Gledwood has. If you don't know who Gledwood is his blog is He can pound out a great blog.

Gledwood is my best friend. I know pathetic, my best friend is Ocean away, and I only know him from our blogs, and some emails and comments. He keeps me blogging when feel there is nothing more I can say. What do I do during the day, first off I get out of bed. I don't change out of my sweatpants, and t-shirt. I have really soft t-shirts from the Internet. I have a lot of cool t-shirts. I pee, change my underwear because I'm scared my pussy will smell bad. Then I take my Suboxone, which I hate doing because it has to dissolve under my tongue. It tastes nasty in mouth. I explained this before. Coffee and Baily's to get taste out of my mouth. After I take all my morning pills I stare at the Telly all day. Sometimes I go on my phone and surf the web. Looking at random things. A lot of Kurt Cobain shit. I got google maps downloaded on my phone today and I looked up our apartment building and the street I live on. I watch TV and movies all day until 6pm when I watch How I met you mother. A sit com I enjoy. After that Its just prime time television.

My life is getting to be a waste of time and air. At least when I was using I got out every day, even on the Methadone. I had to leave the house to get my Methadone. I'm thinking of going back on the Methadone. I miss my buzz. Plus my tolerance is really low and I'd probably feel the effects of Methadone as an opiate. Not for long, but a week or two. Then again another part of me wants off all drugs. I know I can't go off my Bi Polar meds or I would end up in the nut house yet again. I'm so confused about what I should do. As far as everything in my life I'm confused. My book comes out in March and I know its going to crash and burn. From what I got on comments when I posted some of it on here. I got a copy of the edited version and the grammar and punctuation, along with the run on sentences are gone. It changed the book a bit, but for the better. As far as my second novel I'm not getting anywhere right now. Tomorrow I'm going to take 60 mgs of Adderal, and see if I get some motivation.

If I was a real writer I would live in New York city and sit at a coffee shop with my laptop writing and drinking coffee. Instead I'm a lonely old bag with nothing to show for my life except a novel about my drug use. As soon as it comes out I will have it posted on my blog, so anyone interested in buy the book they can. I don't mean I'm going to paste and copy the whole book on my blog, I will put up a link to where you can purchase the book.

Last night I got drunk, what made me get drunk is beyond me, but I just couldn't stop with drink. So today I'm tired. I didn't even brush my teeth today. I had two Heath bars, and noodles  for food today.

I also think I'm in love with Gledwood. I want to move to NYC with him, and live out the writers dream. Still  an ocean separate us, he is not able to get here. I could go visit him, I do have  four grand, but he doesn't want me to. Yet another stalker obsession. Sorry Gledwood. He won't even send me a photo of himself. I just want to look at who I'm in computer land in love with.

I'm never going to know you know, but I'm going to love you anyhow.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

A syring full of heroin is all I wanted from Santa

Christmas is over and I can officially say I had a good Christmas. Christmas eve on the other hand was not so fun. Both days I've had a horrible tooth ache and headache. I switched cigarette brands because of these headaches. I now smoke Marb lights.

 Lately I've been taking Clonazepam again more than prescribed. I use it to sleep. Not like with my Methadone when I mixed the two I got a nod, and a slight feeling of being high on Heroin. The Suboxone doesn't put me on the nod at all, but Clonazepam lowers the effects of the Adderal. Adderal keeps me up at night. The Clonazepam puts me to sleep along with Tylenol PM. I look forward to 7pm because that's when I take all my night pills, along with 2mg of Clonazepam, I feel a slight glow. Falling asleep is my new high. I'm up and wide awake all day with the Adderal and it gets tedious. Sleep, how I used to loath those little slices of death. Sleep,  how I now love the wonderful peace it gives me.

Notice how the above is hard to understand. Its like that in my mind. I can no longer get things out in a clear manor.

Now to my Christmas. Christmas eve I spent at my Cousin Brenda's house in Oconto Falls. My cousin Jason had flew in from Alaska, and my Uncle Buster, my aunt Debbie, my cousin Amanda(Brenda's twin sister) me, my parents, and Amanda and Brenda's kids were all there. It was festive, but my dad disappeared to the bar across the street. I got a bad headache, and toothache. Plus I couldn't be in my Pajamas, which is all I now wear. So I just yearned to be home. After eating, and looking at Jason's pictures on the Wii we went to the bar picked up my dad and drove home, where I took my night pills, and fell into a lovely sleep.

Upon waking Christmas morning at 6am I had to put my Suboxone under my tongue and wait for them to dissolve. I hate that part of my morning. The only thing that takes away the taste in my mouth is coffee with a couple shots of Baily's drink. My parents were up, and I had put their gift from me under the tree after they went to bed on Christmas Eve. The only gift I thought I was getting was a necklace I picked out myself. The one with the key pendant with diamond chips in it. Around 7 we decided it was time to open gifts. My dad opened his gifts first. He got two pairs of jeans, and a sweatshirt from Ralf Lauren. My mom got a Jewelry amour, a diamond ring, and a diamond wedding band. I got my parents 119.00 dollar sheets, and and down blanket for their bed. I got two Kurt Cobain Tshirts, and a winter coat, along with the necklace.

After opening gifts we drove over to my cousin Amanda's for breakfast. We saw what the kids got from Santa, and we had a fun visit. We played a card game with the kids, and me, mom, and Amanda. The kids are Kennedy and Carly. Two of the cutest kids god ever created. Going to Amanda's was the best part of Chirstmas. After getting back to our apartment we watched family videos from 1987 when I was four. My aunt Debbi stopped by for a visit, but she didn't stay long because me and mom were going to go over to my Grandma Grace's house for Christmas lunch at 2pm. So me and mom drove all the way to Oconto Falls again and we sat and ate with my Grandam, her sister, my mom's sister, and her oldest kid Erika and her two babies. Along with husbands. My dad stayed home.

I wished Santa would gave me hypodermic needle filled with Heroin, I would take a week off the Suboxone to feel it. Santa isn't drug friendly, he's usually a alcoholic. Damn you Santa.  

Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry Christmas

So its Christmas eve, and I have all my gifts bought, but not wrapped. I know what I'm getting for Xmas, its a necklace with a key as the pendent, and its got a bunch of diamond chips in it. I know this because I picked it out. I got my parents 119.00 dollar sheets, and a down blanket.

Other than that, I'm bored out of my mind. Tonight we have to drive up to Oconto Falls for a family gathering.  I'm actually excited to see my family. I just hate the drive. Plus it will be dark out when we leave, I hate driving in the dark. I assume I'll have to drive home, because my parents will have some drinks.

If your wondering what I've been doing since I haven't posted everyday like I usually do, I'll let you in on whats up. I've been going up and down in moods. Its like I'm cycling in one day over and over. I worry about things. Normally writing helps me, and I should have written about this. I didn't though. Mainly because I'm lazy. I just couldn't bring myself to open the laptop and sign into blogger. I worry about being dead, being alive. Wasting my life, wishing I was off Suboxone so I could use and feel better.

I can't write anything cohertly because my mind is just a buzz with every thought. I can't pick one thing to write about. After every sentence I write there is a pause, me thinking which idea should I go with.

I hadn't showered in four days, and I hadn't changed my underwear in four days either. I stunk to high heaven. I got in the car with my dad to go buy the ring my mom had picked out for Christmas, and I was horrified at how I smelled. Not stinky pussy, but this weird smell that I've never smelled before. Like bad breath in the morning. I do still brush my teeth everyday. I wanna keep those baby's. Although yesterday I had a bad toothache. That is aside the point. I noticed that I smelled bad two days before I actually got in the shower. We don't have class right now, and it really took a toll on my hygiene. I also have this dry shampoo. Its in a spray can, and it sprays out a powder that soaks up the oils in your hair, to keep it from getting greasy. So my hair looks clean, but my body starts to smell.

With my toothache yesterday, it was the nerves in my teeth that hurt, and no matter how much Advil I took it wouldn't go away. I even took an extra one of my Suboxone to kill the pain.That didn't work. Then I remembered my mom got Neurontin, and this is for never pain, so I took one, it still didn't go away, then I took another one, alone with the Neurotin I took my night pills, and knocked me out at 7pm. I fell asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until midnight, and when I woke up my tooth didn't hurt anymore, but my arms hurt like hell. I had slept on them wrong. I had just taken my shower, and my hair had been wet when I fell asleep, when I woke up it was dry and a big curly mess. So I shuffled along to my room, took off my sweatshirt, and crawled into bed. There I feel asleep in an awkward position. When I woke up this morning my arms didn't hurt as much, but my neck hurt like a bitch.

I know this is probably the boring to read, but I had to write, and what better to write about than my daily life. Sorry for you guys reading this.

Merry Christmas everyone,

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I think therefore I am

Sorry I've been away for so long. My computer was not letting me sign into blogger for a couple of days, and the other few I just wasn't feeling inspired to write. Today I'm writing because I've been watching too many movies about dead people who think they are still alive. Passenger's is the main one. Anne Hathaway is the stars in a film about Passenger's of an plane crash that are dead, but don't know it, and slowly figure it out.

What if I'm dead, and this is my afterlife. What if my sister is the only one who survived a car accident me and my family were in? Now its me, and my parents who are dead. I feel myself loosing grip on reality. I have to feel and smell things to make sure they are real. My chest gets tight just writing about this. Am I soon on my way back to the loony bin?

Its horrifying loosing touch with reality and knowing its happening. Staring at a wall for hours on end. Thoughts circling around, images of men beating their wives.Suddenly an image of love, and all the kindness I've been shown in my life. Then all at once after a staring for a while all those images and thoughts become one  and its like I'm watching a TV show inside my head.  

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I've got a boy hangover

Seriously I have nothing to say today. I'm not depressed, I took my medication today. BTW, I've been saying I'm on Ritalin when I'm actually on Adderal 25mg twice daily. I was on Ritalin at first, but I complained that it wasn't working when I was still on the Methadone, so the doctor switched me over to Adderal. I never noticed any difference until I was switched from Methadone treatment to Suboxone treatment for my heroin/opiate addiction. Then I finally noticed that it pepped me up.

I found a good song, called "Boy hangover" it was on "The Office" the American version. I forget who sings it, Maggie Mckee? Something Mckee. Its a dance song. I usually hate dance music, but this song is good. They don't play the whole song on the office, but if you youtube the song Boy Hangover, The Office version comes up and plays the whole song, and that's where I'm off land.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Mixing Ritalin with Bi Polar

I think the reason my moods are shifting so much is because of my Ritalin prescription. Someone with Bi Polar is not suppose to be taking amphetamines. As I've said about my Dr. before, he has a good writing hand. He is writing me out Ritalin so I can loose weight. He uses the excuse that I was on it as a child from the age of 7 till the age of 19, that I need it for ADD. The days that I was so blue, and I wondered about the house dreaming of sitting in a running car  in a closed garage, are the days I decided not to take my Ritalin. I went three days without it because of that day I triple dosed myself and thought I was going to have a heart attack. Little did I know I would be throwing myself into the abyss. Then the day I blogged about my depression I had taken my Ritalin again, yesterday I didn't take it and was again sullen and listless.

Now I'm confused. Am I addicted to the Ritalin or is the Ritalin just causing me to cycle emotionally rapidly? I'm afraid to call the Dr. because I want the pills to help me loose weight, and it seems so long as I take the damned pills I'm not depressed. I'm opposite, I'm swell. I'm in a mania. Oh
God what has this Dr. done to me. Fuck, the Ritalin didn't do this me when I was on Methadone. Methadone is so sedating that it counteracted the effects of the Ritalin. The Suboxone is not as sedating, in fact its not at all sedating. Which I hate about it. But I guess that's the life of a non opiate addict. I like to live my life a little sedated.  The Ramons song "I wanna be sedated" should be my anthem. Being on Ritalin is the opposite of Sedated, I'm hyper. Naturally I have lots of anxiety. For instance, I get 90 Clonazepam a month, its the 15th of the month(I think) and I only have 20 left. The Ritalin has upped my anxiety level from an 8 to a 10. My jaw is always clamped shut so tight it hurts. My tongue is pressed so hard against my teeth that I'm aware of it all day.

Ritalin and Suboxone and Clonazepam are not the only pills I take. I take a hand full of pills every morning and every night. Mood stabilizers, anti depressants, anti phsycotics, thyroid pill, seizure med for weight loss too(its suppose to decrease appetite) Pre natal vitamin for my skin, birth control for my skin, fiber, stool softener, (opiates make you constipated)

I had to hand my Clonazepam over to my mom so I wouldn't take them all before the month was up. So I would at least have one at bed time. I need one for night time so I can sleep. The Ritalin keeps me up all hours of the night.

Btw, this blog is dedicated to Gledwood. Who requested I write about my medications.

I'm so hyped up on my Ritalin today don't be surprised if write two posts today.

Also I put up Stats button, but for some reason you need my passwords, which are Annagrace and kurtdc.1 you have to use the capitol A. I thought it would give the stats from when I started the blog, but it only gives the stats from when I put up the button. In total from the stats that we get on blogger I've had somewhere around 20,000 vistors to my blog. This doesn't seem like a lot to me. I feel like I'm failing. I've only had 3,000 profile veiws. I'm sure Gledwood has had 100,000 vistors to his blog.  I've had my blog since 2008. Two years and only 20,000 hits. Thats pretty lame. At least people read it. Thank you to those of you who do read it. Means a great deal to me. Each and every one of you  20,000  people.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Nucler Catotonic bizzard makes sense

 My brain is not letting any of the chemicals that make a person happy out of my glands. I'm depressed. I know that I'm cycling. I was just in a manic episode for about a week, three days ago, and then suddenly wham I can't even force out a smile. My heart feels heavy, and someone could put a gun to my head and I wouldn't flinch. I would feel relief, I would feel like finally I don't have to fake it anymore.

I don't belong here, boredom haunts my every move. Even when I'm doing something I enjoy. I think about calling my friend Meghan and my hands feel to heavy to pick up the phone. NO words form in my head that I would want to speak to her. Having sex with Jess which normally would bring me pleasure does nothing but annoy me. Thank god he doesn't email me very often. This Okcupid website which I find somewhat amusing sifting thru the endless profiles of men looking for the perfect women(not me) makes me want to vomit. I have nothing in common with these people. I swear I'm not human.

I've been engulfed by this black cloud. Now I'm wearing all black. To get myself out of this mood I left the house on an unscheduled outing and went shopping. All this did was make me want to strangle all these seemingly happy people. Why do you get to be jolly, and smile, and have endless good times, while I sit here and wish for death to over take me?

My moods are so sensitive. The wind blows, and I'm manic, the snow falls and I'm depressed. We had a blizzard Saturday night and Sunday morning, which is when I was at my most depressed. I couldn't even listen to music. It literally hurt me to listen to music. It hurt me to think of happiness. I got an email from another unhappy person, and I got some satisfaction out of it. I felt I wasn't alone on the planet. Someone else was also sad. Then I realized how lonely I was. Yet I couldn't stand to look for someone to be with me. I just wanted Heroin to replace those chemicals in my brain, and to replace that lonelyness. I didn't use. I would have just felt worse later. So I took my night pills, and laid down and slept. I slept till it hurt. I slept till I was sick and had to take my Suboxone.

Today I felt my spirits lift a bit. Like okay maybe I can pick up that phone and form some words. The music doesn't hurt me. I can force a smile. Its so much better tonight that I even opened the laptop and blogged about my depression. When I was depressed I couldn't even open the laptop. Looking at my blog made me sick. I was so listless. I felt I was going to slip into catonia.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

I put up a paypal donation button

If you would like to donate to my studies, help me to learn to really write I put up a donate button. You can donate a quarter, a dollar, whatever you can afford. If everyone who read this blog donated a quarter every time they read the blog I would have enough money to pay for  a lot of college, if they donated a dollar, I could pay for all of collage.

I'm a writer, I don't make anything. In fact I paid nearly a thousand dollars to get my first novel published. It took a lot of saving up SSI checks to pay for that. I don't expect you to donate, if you like what you read, and want to help a writer hone her skills then perhaps a donation is okay. I don't know.

I feel guilty doing this. Guilty and greedy. Its up there now, and I have no idea how to take it down. So any and all donations are welcome. All complaints about the donation button will be heard and taken up with the Feel free to voice your opinion.

How to make it in the real world?

Yesterday I was suppose to go to Jess' house and have casual sex with him. I just couldn't put myself through it, and I cancelled. All day I dreaded going over there and just before I was going to leave I sent an email saying something had come up and I was unable to come over. He said he too was busy.  I was so thankful. I got to watch Survivor, and Criminal Minds, and fall asleep on the couch. I watched the stats on my blog, and wow did I have a lot of people read my post yesterday. Over 500. Which is a lot for me.

I must say I was disappointed by the response I got from my novel. I must let you all know I self published the book. It costed near one thousand dollars, for publishing, and editing. They are editing my grammar, spelling, and syntax. The one thing I'm worried about is the mistake I made not getting facts right about the way Methadone works. I went through yesterday and did a quick edit myself which as Belle pointed out made the post redundant, and the grammar, and syntax was still horrid. BmelonsLemonade helped a lot by giving me a nearly full edit of what I posted. I learned so much from her. She herself is writing a book, which is much better than mine, and you can read excerpts at, her book is about being a junky during Hurricane Katrina, from glimpse of the book I just know she will be published by a real publisher.

I have class today. We are reading Poetry in class right now. Leaves of Grass. We are to write our own Poetry and submit it to our professor, who will grade it on originality. I have old poems that I could use, but I'm working on a poem right now. Normally it takes me a few minutes to pound out a poem. This time I'm trying to take what I've learned from readings of the Leaves of Grass.

Starting January fourteenth I will be taking English Composition. Hopefully in this class I will be able to take the book I'm working on now, the book about a middle school girl without a clique and all her trials and tribulations, and the professor will take the time to help me work on the grammar, sentence structure, style, my verbs, etc. Spelling is just lost on me. It makes me look stupid, but I am not the sharpest tool in the shed.

To be truthfull, I lost sleep over the comments I got on my novel. I should have posted a few pages before I sent if off to be edited and to be published. Since I self published I had no deadline to send the book in, and could have honed my skills as writer if I had waited till I took this English Composition class. I could have done a re write...a second draft. Perhaps the book wouldn't fall flat. Perhaps some anonymous editor won't be making my book readable (hopefully) instead of me.

I think it was the stress from posting part of my book and the negative feedback that made me not in the mood for a bootycall. I was a bit depressed. It took me so long to get that story out of me. I would write 50 pages here, and then lose interest for a few months, then gain interest again, but the Methadone would put me on the nod while I was trying to write so I couldn't knock out as many pages I would have liked to. So at times it was written two, three pages at a time. Then I would get on another kick and would write another 50 pages in two or three days. Staying up all night and day just typing, typing, typing. Sometimes I would write out longhand first so I could work on my sentence structure. Which obviously I had no idea what I was doing. I would read, and re read authors that I admired and try to copy their style.

Oh well, its my first attempt at writing a novel. Its not the only novel I have in me. I love to write, and I'm not going to stop. Schooling is what I need, and schooling is what I'll get. It gives me a reason to stay off drugs. Not often do I find a reason to stay off drugs. Writing, knowing others will read and judge gives me a high. Why the hell do you think I blog so much. Why do you think I want your approval so badly. I constantly journal in my paper journal. Nearly everynight before bed. Lastnight I wrote about how disappointed I was by my blog comments, how thankfully I was for BmelonsandLemonade, how I'm totally over Jess(I think). I went into depth there. Boring stuff, you've all herd it before.

I wish I had a quarter for everyone who reads this blog. If I charged a quarter to read this blog, nobody would read it. Does anyone know how to put up a paypal donation thingy on my blog? I would never charge anyone to read this drivel, but if they would like to make a donation... I know I'm going to get a lot of flack for this. I'm going to google it anyway. If you know how to do this email me at

To everyone, happy December Holidays

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

This is more of my book. A little revised part of what you read yesterday, and more.

In my mind stabbing at vein with a needle is a part of a normal life. Its what I’ve wanted since I learned that my idols were Heroin addicts. That’s when I was in seventh grade. Since then I strived to become a junky. Living in Green Bay Wisconsin a relatively small town, proved finding Heroin a difficulty. Opiate pain pills on the other hand just fell into my lap. At nineteen my father was prescribed Percocets and a few months later they switched the prescription to Oxycontin. I soon began snorting the Oxycontin on a daily basis. This went on for a year and a half. I always had a supply so I never had to go through withdrawal.

At 21 I moved to Appleton Wisconsin, were I met drug dealing brothers. The sold Dilauded 8mgs and Heroin. I had finally found Heroin. The brothers showed me how to inject the Heroin into my veins. At which time I became a daily IV drug user. The brothers were addicts themselves, and the Heroin and Diluaded would always run out before the end of the month. This is when I first got dope sick. I was hooked. I began to Doctor shop when my drug dealers were out of drugs. Always for Dilauded. I’d sell a story of being a AIDS patient with a CD four count of some low count such as thirty one, and a viral load of 5,000. I would complain of pain in my legs from a neuropathy. The jig worked most of the time. As a junky I looked like death warmed over, and the Doctor took pity on me and what he thought was my emanate death from AIDS.

After a few months of Doctor shopping the Doctors began to get suspicious. They stop writing the prescription and made me for an addict. Soon no Doctor would write me a script. I would travel all around Wisconsin to go to Doctors. One day I ended up at a Doctor I used to go to when I was in high school. I gave him my speal of AIDS, and low CD four counts with high viral loads. He wouldn’t write me out Dilauded, but he was going to write me out Vicoden. He ended up leaving the Prescription pad in the room alone with me. I tore off a page, and wrote out my own script to Diluaded.

After getting the prescription filled, I drove to Florida. I knew I was in trouble. I stayed there for a month. I found a Heroin connection there, and decided to move down to Florida. I just had to dive back to Wisconsin to get my things. When I got back to Wisconsin I got pulled over by the Police and was arrested for Prescription fraud. I was sent to jail straight away. I was released the next day on a signature bond, and on advice of my lawyer I was in rehab the next morning.

25 days into a 28 day stay in rehab I was kicked out for taking Benadryl to sleep. I needed to be in a treatment facility to stay out of jail. As I was looking at three years in prison for my crime. So I enrolled myself in the local Methadone program. Which is where my story starts.

I’ve been on a binge, shooting and smoking cocaine for 24 hours straight. People have wandered in and out of my apartment all night, the stain of their presence is noticeable everywhere I look. My apartment lies in shambles. Everything I own is strewn on the living room floor. The TV drones on in the background. I can hear Elliot Smith’s melancholy voice wafting on the airwaves from a cd player on the floor.

The room is dimly lit by a few candles, outside the sun is just peaking over the horizon on a beautiful spring morning. I can hear the streets full of cars buzzing full of the citizens of this country on their way to work. Then there is me. High, pacing back and forth watching as streets lights change from red to green, to yellow, and back to red from the windows in my living room and kitchen. I have no job.

My hair is in knots, eyeliner is running down my face, I have blood smeared on my t-shirt and arms, from the holes I have poked into my hands and arms with needles full of coke. I look like I recently committed a gruesome murder. I feel some what panicked and I decide to look around my apartment for an Ambien. I hide them on myself. If I didn’t I would take them even though I don’t need to. Ambien is a sleeping pill, I take them to bring me down from the Cocaine. It keeps me from getting the trademark coke crash and helps me to get some sleep.

After searching for an hour, I finally give up looking for the Ambien. I turn my attention to an end table. There sits a baggie of white powdered Cocaine, and a box of baking soda. A few 1cc syringes are scattered about. A spoon and lighter are sitting on the end table as if they are waiting for me. I pour a good amount of coke into the spoon, fill a syringe with some water, and push the water into the spoon with the coke, using the cap of the syringe, I stir the mixture, and I drop my cotton in the spoon and suck the concoction into my syringe. I tie off my already swollen hand with a shoe lace, and my veins reveal themselves.

Before I start to mutilate my hand with this needle full of coke I hesitate, and think about what I am doing. I really hate this drug, all it does is make me anxious and nervous, and I am anxious and nervous naturally. What I really need is heroin, my drug of choice for the past two years, that is until I got strung out, committed a felony, went to rehab, got kicked out of rehab, and found the local methadone clinic which I am still on. So now I guess, I am a methadone addict, and since methadone has a long half life and my dose is high it keeps me from getting high on Heroin or any other Opiate such as Dilauded. Here I am and I need to get high off something. Coke was available, I had a connection and I went on a binge.

It costs sixteen dollars a day for the methadone treatment, which I don’t have right now. Spent it all on this binge. This waste of a binge. So I come to the conclusion that this one hit of coke won’t hurt anything, in fact it might help give me the push I need to figure out how to scrounge the sixteen bucks up. So I start stabbing at my hand and the blood finally blossoms into the syringe, and I push the coke home into my vein.

A bursts of energy comes into me, and I feel like wonder women, I try to enjoy the high, but it is fleeting. The first hit of coke is always the best, after that you’re just chasing that high, you can never get enough of the drug. I have been using too long. Now it’s just a matter of trying to keep myself numb of all emotions.

On my couch lies a naked man who is sleeping. He has been my partner in crime the past 24 hours. His name is Corey. I met him while I was in rehab last winter. As I watch him slumber, he looks so peaceful, and I feel a sudden pang of jealousy rising in me. How come he can sleep so peaceful and I am wide awake with the worst case of anxiety I have ever had?

I really need to go to the Methadone clinic and get my dose, but I don’t have the sixteen dollars it costs. I gave it all to Corey for this Coke, and he spent it buying more coke.

Usually, when I am not on a binge, I go to the methadone clinic every morning and get my dose. The methadone really helps me it keeps me from being so anxious all the fucking time, and I don’t feel like a strung out junky when I take my methadone regularly. I feel like whole person again.

Most mornings when I get home from the methadone clinic, it’s the best part of the day. I love being alone in my apartment in the morning, when it’s just me and Eleanor, my little dog. I become so relaxed when the methadone kicks in, and Eleanor and I go for walks or watch morning T.V.

This morning is not one of those mornings. This morning all I want is the money to get my methadone and to get Corey‘s naked ass off my couch, but unfortunately, I can’t make him leave, he’s the one who bought all this coke, and I owe him 300 bucks. So I am stuck with a naked man on my couch sleeping off a coke binge.

Just then I remember the counterfeit fifty dollar bill some guy gave me last nigh when I sold him some coke. At the time I was livid that I got ripped off, but now, maybe I can use it to rip someone else off. I grab the fake money out of my dresser drawer, and put it in my purse. I am pleased with myself and my new idea.

Then I look over at Eleanor my dog, and am filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. How could I put her through this shit? She hasn’t gotten much sleep tonight either, and now that the house has quieted down, she is finally getting a little shut eye.

God, I hate myself, but when I really think about my life, and the people in it, Elle is the only thing I truly care about. I have to stop this, if not for me then for her, and I make a resolve to myself that this is it, no more dope. I know I can do it; I have done it before I was clean for 90 days, until I fucked up.

Since I have the fake fifty, I decide my best chance of cashing it is if I try to buy something with it, and then use the real money I get back to pay for my methadone. I grab my keys and purse. Elle, hears my keys jingle and runs into her bag that I use to carry her around, she has been carried in a bag since she was a little baby. I toss on a sweatshirt to cover my bloody t-shirt and try to make my face look a little less scary.

Elle is excited to be leaving she wags her little tail. I run out to where my car is parked and before I get in I let Elle out to go potty. The fresh air fills my lungs and my resolve to stop using gets even stronger. When I am finished with all this shit I have to do to get my methadone, I am coming home and making Corey leave, I’ll call the police if I have to. Then I am done, no more illegal activates for me.

Elle and I hop in the car and drive down the road, a little ways to the gas station. I am already anxious from the coke, but knowing I am going to try to pass fake money, that puts me way past anxious, I am about to have a heart attack as I walk in the door.

The cashier is man in his fifties, with white hair pulled into a long pony tail in back. He looks like an old hippie. There is no one else is in the store, it’s too early for the usual transients that hang outside the front of this place. This is the store all the hoodlums loiter in front of, and that’s the reason I picked this place.

I take a deep breath and ask for a pack of Basic Full Flavors. He grabs the smokes and rings them up. I hand him the money and he quickly glances at it, turns it over, and then puts it into the cash register.

I just got away with a federal offence, I can’t believe it. I turn around and leave. I am elated I got away with it and now I can get my methadone. I jump in the car, put it in drive, and step on the gas, squealing my tires as I pull out. I want my methadone now!

As I am driving my mind starts to wonder. Here I am high as a kite, just committed a federal offence, and I’m on probation for the prescription fraud that I committed last year. Last summer I was out of heroin and getting sick so I went to my doctor and asked him to write me a script to Hydromorphone, a prescription narcotic, often called hospital heroin; he wouldn’t. Just when I though I was screwed the doctor made the mistake of leaving me alone in the room with his prescription pad. So I ripped off one of the prescription papers and stuffed it in my purse. As soon as I was out of there I wrote out my own Hydromorphone prescription and filled it at a Walgreens.

I got caught a few months later. I was unaware that they send all scripts back to the doctor’s office for verification purposes; and well, he knew he never wrote me any opiates. Busted! That’s how I ended up in rehab and met Corey.

After getting kicked out of rehab I went to the methadone clinic. At the time I had to be in some sort of treatment to avoid jail. It worked and I ended up on probation for a year, instead of jail for a year.

I pull into the methadone clinic parking lot, Elle’s barking like she always dose in morning when we come here. She hates being left in the car, but I do it because it only takes a few minutes to dose, she’s fine in the car alone for a minute or two.

I run into the clinic, and thankfully no-one is line today, and I go straight to the dosing window. Pat the nurse gives me a look, like she knows I am high. She hands me little cup to pee in. “You have a urine analysis today”.

I think to myself fuck, I am totally screwed, my urine is definitely dirty with coke and god knows what else. Who knows what will happen when the results come back? I go into the bathroom and quickly pee. While in the bathroom I’m shaking with anxiety. After I am finished I go back to the window and hand her my warm cup of urine.

“Here you go”, I say as calmly as possible, trying not to let he see that I know am screwed when the results come back positive for every drug known to man.

“After you dose Kay would like to talk to you”, she says, as she fills my Dixie cup with the methadone.

“Okay”, I say taking the cup and slamming the methadone. At the moment I am just great full to be ingesting the methadone, this means, soon, my heart and mind will stop racing, and I can rest.

I walk down the hall, from the dosing window to Kay’s office. Kay is my drug counselor at the methadone clinic; we usually meet once a month to asses how I am progressing. We already met this month, so I have a feeling this is not going to be a good meeting. I knock on her door. “Come in, it’s open”.

I walk in and say, “Hi Kay, what’s up.”? I am still trying hard to hide my fear.

“Have a seat Anna, we need to talk”. She says this, and immediately I can tell I am fucked. “Do you remember calling me yesterday afternoon”?

Shit, I do remember: I called her with a needle in my arm literally, and asked her for help. “Kay I am using again and I need to stop. I don‘t want to use anymore! Can you help me”?

She sort of brushed me off and told me to call someone from NA. I hung up and forgot about it. , and now its coming back to bite me in the ass.

“Well, Anna I had to call your probation officer and tell him what you said. You do know that relapsing is grounds to revoke your probation”.

I immediately start to sob. I had a feeling something bad was going to happen, but I didn’t predict anything this terrible. She grabs the phone and seconds later she’s on speaker phone with to my PO.

“She’s here, what do you want me to do.” My probation office addresses me.

“Anna I am revoking your probation, for your own safety. There will be a police officer at the clinic soon”.

Through sobs I tell him that, “Elle is in the car, and I have no-one to pick her up”.

He pauses and thinks about what to do. Then he comes back. “Well, Anna I will allow you to go home and find someone to take care of your dog, but you have to be at my office at 10am. Anna Don’t even think of taking off, you will just make things worse”.

I calm down a little after he says this. I tell him, “I will be there at 10am sharp”.

It is 7:30am now; I have plenty of time to get things in order. Kay hangs up the phone, and says, “I am sorry, I had to do this, It’s just I am really worried about you. I hope this will keep you form hurting yourself any more”.

I just walk out I don’t even bother acknowledging her. I am so pissed; maybe I need help, but not punishment. So now I am going to have to withdrawal from 140 milligrams of methadone in jail. There is no worse place to go through opiate withdrawal than jail. That fucking bitch!

I jump in my car and speed away, hysterically crying. I should have seen this coming I say to myself. I never get away with anything. This is God punishing me for passing fake money.

I look at Elle, and she looks so innocent. She has no idea what’s happening, how bad things are. Maybe she does? She is licking my fingers like she is trying to make me feel better. I give her a kiss on top of her head, as I pull into my parking space at home.

I get into my apartment and start making calls. First on the list, is to my ex boyfriend Pete, Elle’s daddy. I ask him if he can pick up Elle by 10am, and I tell him why. He says, “Sure I’ll be there around 9:45am”.

Next call is my dad, who lives four hours away in upper Michigan. I tell him the news, and he is upset. He thought I had been doing so well with the methadone treatment. He asks, “How long will you be in jail”?

“I don’t know dad, probably not too long. I didn’t do anything that bad. I just relapsed, it happens to every addict at some point”. He says, “I will call your mom for you”, and we say our good byes.

Then I call my aunt Debbie who has been helping me out since my mom moved to Hawaii, a year ago for her traveling nurse job. Deb has been my surrogate mom since then. Taking me to all my court dates, bringing me cigarettes in rehab. Giving me money for the methadone when my mom forgets to western union me the money in time.

Deb is at work, when I call, and her long time boyfriend answers the phone, I give him the low down. He assures me he will have her call me back in a minute. So I hang up and start to get ready for a shower while I wait for her to call back.

Two minutes later my phone buzzes and sure enough it is Debbie, crying, worried about me. I try to calm her down and tell her I’m sorry.

“I haven’t been using you all this time for money or anything like that, I just started using drugs again at the end of February, a month ago”. I want her to know not everything was a lie.

She’s worried about Elle, Elle really likes Deb. Deb has no children, and really loves dogs. I ask her if she would check up on Elle while she is with Pete. Pete lives with his dad behind a bar; Deb only lives about a mile away.

She says she would be happy to check in on Elle and make sure she is taken care of. She asks me to let her know what’s going on, when I know more and, can use the phone in jail. I tell her I will, and we say our goodbyes.

My last call is to my drug dealer. I need some valium to help me through the withdrawals that are ahead. He answers and I tell him the condensed version of events, and ask him to bring me 10 of his Valium. He says, “Sure be there in 10 minutes.

Corey is still lying on the couch naked so I shake him and try t to get him up and make him leave, but he is dead to the world, and doesn’t even acknowledge. I give up and write a note and tape it too his chest.

Then I clean up the apartment and get rid of all drugs and paraphnailia. All the while I chain smoke and stop to pet Elle every few minutes. I keep trying not to think about how much I will miss and worry about her.

Then, there is a knock at the door. It is my dealer, he shows me the pills, and I give him the money I have left over from my previous crime that morning. Then he’s gone I’m sure he is off to his next sale. I take one valium and head to the shower.

In the bathroom I look in the mirror, and see how nasty I look. My skin is pale, with a grayish hue. My eyes have big black circles around them. The blue part of my eyes looks foggy, and the white part is red with blood shot. I have to look away I am so disgusted. I strip off my clothes that I have been wearing for a week. They are getting too big on me.

Since I started using coke I have gone from my normal weight of 150lbs to 130lbs. Which is really the only good thing about coke, the weight loss, but that’s not even worth going to jail for.

I jump in the shower; the water feels good on my dirty body. I wet my hair and shampoo. I can feel all the snarls, my hair is really long, thick and wavy, and I hate brushing it when there isn’t any snarls, now that it is a rats nests, I don’t want even want to get out of the shower much less brush my hair. I wash my body and condition my hair.

When I jump out Elle starts licking my toes as she always does. I grab my towels, wrap my hair and dry off. Then I pull out my brush and start tearing out my hair, which takes 15 minutes.

I glance at the clock 8:30am, tick tock tick tock Tick tock tick tock, soon I will be in cell doubled over in pain from withdrawal. I am thankful that I got my dose today; this means I will have about 48 hours until I get really dope sick.

Now that I am freshly showered, I put on some comfy clothes. Pair of black sweats, and clean white t-shirt. I sit down on the chair next to the couch and pull up the atmen. I light myself another smoke and turn on the TV. To watch the Today show.

I eat a few ho ho’s, and let myself relax. Elle jumps up on my lap and I cuddle her. I start to get sleepy, finally, now that my methadone and valium have started to kick in. Every few minutes I have to pull myself out of a light sleep to check the clock.

The idea to leave and not turn myself in crosses my mind. If I did run I would go to my dad’s house out of state, but I would have to drive my own car all the way up there, and my tags are expired. Plus I am sure that my PO will put out APB for me and my car.

With my luck, I would probably end up getting pulled over with Elle in my car, way out in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone reception. Elle would have to go to some pound, and I would end up in jail. If I could hide out somewhere until my dad drove down to get me, but where would I hide?

My PO is not stupid he knows most places I would go. Then I still wouldn’t have my methadone. There is no methadone clinic in Upper Michigan. My dad has a prescription for 30mgs of Morphine, but he keeps it locked up in a safe when I am around. I figure if I just turn myself in, I should be able to get back on methadone sooner. I decide against running.

My phone rings, it’s Pete, he is outside the apartment building, and needs me to open the door. I run to let him in. First thing out of his mouth is, “Jesus Christ Anna, can’t you stay out of trouble for one year”?

I give a little laugh, “I know I fucked up again, thank you so much for helping me out in a pinch”.

He gives me a look of pity and says, “Eleanor is my dog too, so it is my obligation to take care of her when you fuck up and go to jail”.

Eleanor runs up to Pete, excited to see him. I start to cry again, realizing I have messed up my life good this time. Pete was such a caring boyfriend, and I was whoring around, getting high, and stealing his money. He even took me back after every one of my infidelities. Pete is the one who bought me Elle, two years ago, after I begged and begged.

I start to pack up Elle’s things, while Pete cuddles her. Pete looks at Corey lying on the couch, and rolls his eyes. I can tell he feels uncomfortable after he sees him. I look at the clock and tell Pete its time to go.

Elle jumps in her bag, and all three of us head out to Pete’s car. My PO’s office is close to my apartment, so I light my last cigarette, and take a deep breath. I am surprisingly calm considering my predicament. Thanks to my methadone dose and the valium I popped earlier.

Before I go to turn myself in I have to hide these 9 valium pills, I bought. I wrap them in my cigarette cellophane, burn the top so the pills are sealed in, then I pull down my sweat pants.

Pete is astonished by my actions, “what the fuck! Well I should not be too surprised, you are crazy”, he says.

As I am shoving the little stash up my glorious vagina, I say matter of factly, “I am going to need these in there”.

I pull up my sweats up, kiss Elle good bye, and look at Pete and say, “I am sorry for everything, you deserve better.”, and I am off.

I hate being separated form Eleanor, leaving her literally breaks my heart. Going thru withdrawals, and worrying about my baby girl, this is going to be brutal.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

A little taste of my book. Not at all edited.

I’ve been on a binge, shooting and smoking cocaine for 24 hours straight. People have been in and out of my apartment all night, the stain of their presence is noticeable everywhere I look. The place is a mess, every blanket I own is strewn on the living room floor. The TV is turned on but the volume is all the way down. I can hear Elliot Smith’s melancholy voice wafting on the airwaves from a cd player on the floor. The room is dimly lit, outside the sun is just peaking over the horizon on a beautiful spring morning. The citizens of this country are on their way to work. I on the other hand have no job to speak of, and sit up here in my own little hell most of the day.

My hair is in knots, eyeliner is running down my face, I have blood smeared on my t-shirt and arms. From the holes I have poked into my hands and arms with needles full of coke. I look like I recently committed a gruesome murder. I feel some what panicked and I decide to look around my apartment for an Ambien. I hide them on myself because if I didn’t I would take them even though I didn’t need to. Ambien is a sleeping pill, I take to bring me down from the cocaine. It keeps me from getting that trademark coke crash and help me get some sleep.

After searching for an hour, I finally give up looking for the ambien. I turn my attention to the end table. There sits a baggie of white powder cocaine, and a box of baking soda. A few 1cc syringes are scattered about. There is a spoon and lighter sitting on the end table waiting for me. I pour a good amount of coke into the spoon, fill a syringe with some water, and push the water into the spoon with the coke, using the cap of the syringe, I stir the mixture, and I drop my cotton in the spoon and suck the concoction into my syringe. I tie off my already swollen hand with a shoe lace, and my veins reveal themselves.

Before I start to mutilate my hand with this needle full of coke I hesitate, and think about what I am doing. I really hate this drug, all it does is make me anxious and nervous, and I am anxious and nervous naturally. What I really need is heroin, my drug of choice for the past two years, that is until I got strung out, committed a felony, went to rehab, got kicked out of rehab, and found the local methadone clinic which I am still on. So now I guess, I am a methadone addict, and since methadone is an opiate blocker and heroin is an opiate, I cannot get high off heroin or any other opiates. It would be pointless for me shoot up any kind of opiate. So here I am and I need to get high off something.

It costs sixteen dollars a day for the methadone treatment, which I don’t have right now; I spent it all on this binge , this waste of a binge. So I come to the conclusion that this one hit of coke won’t hurt anything, in fact it might help give me the push I need to figure out how to scrounge the sixteen bucks up. So I start stabbing at my hand and the blood finally blossoms into the syringe, and I push the coke home into my vein.

Monday, December 6, 2010

called up from the minors, his palm is the majors.

This morning I took triple my dose of Ritalin, and I am regretting it. My heart is pounding out of my chest, I'm hearing things, and seeing things. I can't keep my attention on one thing for two long. I'm hoping that blogging will settle me down a bit. I just took a few Clonazepams to counteract the effects of the Ritalin. I feel like I'm developing a tolerance to my Ritalin so today I took extra so I could work on my book and pound out some 20 to 30 pages, and blog and get in some good reading along with cleaning. Addict thinking. More is better. Its extended release, if I would have just waited it would have worked like it usually does at double the dose. There was no need for me to take triple the dose. Plus today I took a smaller dose of my Suboxone so I can take some of those pills I've been saving up. Weaning myself off the Suboxone for a few days.

Last night I got an email from Jess. He called me up from the minors again. I said I'd go over there on Wednesday night for some casual sex. I'm not really that excited about it. Sure I enjoy fucking him, or really being fucked by him. Its just every time I see him I get a little attached, and know that he could give a fuck less about me. In fact he probably dislikes if not hates me. I'm just a sure lay. (God my heart is pounding, I fucking hate speed. I wish I had some Heroin)

Going off subject here a bit. When your all strung out on junk after a while the routine gets old. Mutilating yourself with a spike every few hours, dealing with dealers, finding cash where there is non, disappointing everyone around you that you love and that loves you, disappointing yourself all for a fix that isn't even real. It makes you think your real, but its all fake. All you want is off, a cure. No more junk. You want your normal life back.
Then after a lot of hard work you start to get your normal life back, and you begin to realize normal life isn't that special. In everything you quickly see the opposite, the contradiction, and between the real and the unreal the irony, the paradox. I am my own worst enemy. There is nothing I wish to to do which I just as well not do. Even as a child, when I lacked for nothing, I wanted to die. I see no sense in struggling. I feel that nothing would be proved, substantiated, added or subtracted by continuing an existence which I have not asked for. Everybody around me is a failure, or if not a failure, ridiculous. Especially the successful ones. The successful ones bore me to tears. So why not numb myself to this reality. If not numb myself kill myself, and if I shall meet God, I will do so calmly and spit in his face.
So for those of you who read Gledwoods blog and read about how much he wants to get off Heroin, and then read my blog and how much I want to get back on perhaps the above sums it up. Not everybody feels the same as I do, but its why I feel as I do.

Okay, back to Jess, again with the stupid emails. One would think I learned my lesson last time, but no I just cannot stop my fingers. He's not the only one. I think too much, and either say or write what I'm thinking and press the send button on the talk ,or the email/text. Like last night I called him my silly, stupid pass time of mine, always good for a fuck.  Which may have hurt his feelings. I didn't mean he was stupid, I just meant using him has my pass time was stupid of me. After that I just got done watching Boardwalk Empire, and after that was Big Love. So I emailed him and asked him if he it were legal, would he marry more than one woman. He said he would never marry again. Then I set up a scenario where he falls in love and she really wants to get married. He said maybe. Just joking I asked if I could be an usher at the wedding. If anybody asked I would say I knew the groom from booty calls, and he broke my heart once.

Just fucking stupid. If he hadn't emailed me, I wouldn't have emailed him. I had made that promise to myself. I know guys hate being told how much a girl likes them, especially a girl they don't like back, and inadvertently I told him that I liked him by telling him that he broke my heart. Do I like him now? Only when I'm with him. When he's not around I have a particular distaste for him. It maybe all in my head, he may not hate me, or even dislike me. He may be neutral. Still neutral sucks. I'd rather be numb.  Hell I'd always rather be numb. I don't understand why he doesn't go to the bar and pick up a chick instead of calling me up from the minors. We aren't exclusive so maybe he does get it on with chicks from the bar. Good for him, maybe he'll meet one he really likes. Hopefully I meet someone I really like first.
Its funny I watched all love story movies yesterday, and he sends me a boot e mail, and I didn't even think of going over there  that night Even though I had nothing going on. Instead I said maybe Wednesday night. If nothing comes up between now and Wednesday I'll go over there. Because I'm a glutton for punishment. Because I never asked to be born. Because he doesn't get my dry sense of humour nearly well actually black sense of humour. Although I think he's funny.

Oh fuck I've written another blog about him. How utterly pathetic. In my book, I hate myself and want to die, its hard for me to read, because most of what happens in it really happened to me, around me, with me. Plus I've read the book probably 50 times. Different parts  even more, getting the wording just as I wanted it. I hate reading the part where I go into the Methadone clinic after a three day Coke binge, and my councilor calling me into her office and calling my probation agent. Who then tells me I'm going to jail, all the while my dog is in the car and I have no one to take care of her. I hate myself for choosing drugs over my dog, making my dog live through all that commotion, drug dealers in and out of the apartment, buyers in and out, people using with me in and out. Eleanor likes her routine. She hates it when people come over and stay long periods. I put her through so much. Just writing about it now makes me feel like a piece of shit who will never be a good person.

At least the clonazepam has made my heart stop pounding out of my chest. I can concentrate again. No more funny colors, or noises. My jaw aches from having  it clenched shut. Eleanor is happy now. I'm not using Heroin or Crack, or Coke on a regular basis any more. Addicts don't come through my door as if they own the place. I'm not up all hours of the night with the TV on, put the sound off, and the CD player on with Elliott Smith, and Nirvana always coming from the speakers. Drug sniffing dogs coming through the building and always sitting in front of my door, getting my apartment searched. I never kept the stuff in the house. Always in my car in a safe. The dogs just smelled the smoke from the previous nights.

What else is there to say. Jess is an asshole that I haven't the self esteem to say no to. I also want his sex. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it to myself I have feelings for the guy. So I get to get hurt all over again on Wednesday when he treats me like masturbation that can talk. I do my best not show that he's hurt me in anyway, and try to get out of there fast, goof around with him about getting him a girlfriend. Which I do want for him. Or he can sow his wild oats.

What do I want for myself. I want someone smart, someone who gets my sense of humor, and hates it when I lie. Someone who reads books, knows more than me, but lets me do my know it all thing for a few hours, until I realize what I'm doing and shut up, and apologize. I'm bossy, know it all, laugh at your pain, chain smoking, drug addicted, crazy...literally, delusions of grandeur, low self esteem, at first when I really like someone jealous, but that wears off as soon as I've been disappointed by that person.  

Saturday, December 4, 2010

ok cupid said...

There is this new blogger that I love to read, he is very interesting. He doesn't have that many posts, but the ones he does have are interesting, and he takes requests. He'll write about anything you want him to. I wish I knew how to put up a link. Like on myspace when you write in a web address it automatically puts up a link. Not on blogger though.

Anyway, my life is a bore. Like an idiot I emailed Jess the other night. I was looking at guys on, and all that I saw were douche bags, and I emailed Jess and asked why everyone is such a douche bay, then I told him that I was wrong when I said the name of his band was not very original. He emailed me back, and said Blood Hawk is a good name, and big titty blonds good. The reason he said big titty blonds good is because last time we were together we were watching a show and we stopped on this show that showed this hot blond with big boobs doing the bills, and Jess said I wish I had big titty blond who did my bills. I agreed with him, and said maybe when he gets his groupies. So I emailed him back big titty blonds who do your bills better. 
About a half hour later I emailed him and asked if he had any big boobed blond groupies yet? He emailed me back a half hour later, no, right now he just wants to rock out. Then I emailed him back and said something to effect that every little boy wants to grow up and be a in a band for the chicks, only girls join bands just for the music example riot grrrl. I sounded like a bitchy know it all.
The next day I just happened to go on the laptop and enter into my email(normally I just check my email on my phone) and looked at all my sent emails all way back from this summer. Most of them to Jess. The last one I sent I re read, and I sounded like such a know it all bitch, that I sent him a email early that morning saying, guys do join bands just for the music, and groupies are just a side affect sort of. I sounded like I knew everything in that last email and I don't.
I feel so stupid for even fucking emailing him. I was just bored. I don't want to talk about anything but sex with Jess. Now that Jess is in a band, he doesn't really have time for me. Which is fine with me. I can do without. I like Jess' sex, but I lived without it before I met him and I can do without after he's moved on. I just don't want him to think I'm obsessed with him again, after this summers disaster.
Its just I get really bored, and get to thinking were friends and that I could email him without any kind of meaning behind it. I guess you can't do that with someone your having casual sex with or were having casual sex with. Casual sex is suppose to no strings attached and easy, not complicated and weird. Am I the one making it complicated and weird? He never said no communication in between sex.

Fuck, enough about him. There are two guys on Okcupid that contacted me that I'm interested in. Sean, the guy I had a date with still contacts me, but he's having a hard time in between jobs. We never said we were exclusive, so I can still date. I might meet up with one of the guys who contacted me and watch some documentaries on William S. Burroughs. Right now I'm reading Word Virus, a bio of Burroughs. Suggested by one of the readers of this blog.

I got to go. I needs me a cigarette.
Anna Grace

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Dr. appointment

I really don't have anything to write about. I went to my Physc Doctor today, and he is loosing his licence to write narcotic prescriptions, so I asked him to write me out a presciption of Dilauded. He's losing his licence already, what harm is it going to do. He asked me why I need Dilauded, I told him I just wanted it. He said, if I would of at least came in and pretended to have a back ache he would have done it, but since I came and told him I was going to abuse them he wouldn't do it for me. I shouldn't be so blunt. Its probably best I didn't get the script, and get all strung out again. My parents would have been fucking pissed off. They would have been so angry because I got the prescription from a doctor, and its not illegal, the fact that I'm shooting just means that I'm using in a different way than he told me to. A more direct way.
He upped my Ritalin script, and put me on Lunesta. This doctor has a good writing hand. No wonder they took his narcotic privileges away. Which means I drive and pay for my Suboxone. I might I stress might, not have to pay for the suboxone. That shit is expensive. Its very expensive. As expensive or more expensive than the Methadone. I can't go back on the Methadone. I was kicked off, but the doctor did say I could go to the clinic in Appleton, a half hour drive from here. Door county is a 50 minute drive from here. That would be once a month, Methadone would be every day, and I wouldn't loose weight.
I'm getting a zit on my chin. Just fucking great. I had to put on makeup today to go to the doctor's appointment. My mom is cooking some kind of sweet dessert. I told her not to make any desserts, as I'm trying to loose as much weight as humanly possible. I miss being junky thin. I have been stock piling my dads percocets, so I can go off the suboxone for four to six days and have no tolerance, and get high off them. No nodding high, but that soft glow of numbness that you get when you take a low level narcotic. Ask a doctor if a Percocet is low level narcotic, and he'll say no, but ask a junky and he'll say yes it is. Its been a while since I've used Oxycontin, but I've been told that Oxycontin's are no longer the drug to take. Some other drug has taken over the scene. Dilauded has been on the scene since the 50's, and is still on the scene. Ask any junky who knows anything about pills, and he will tell Dilauded is hospital heroin which is still popular today. Doctors don't prescribe Dilauded that easily, but lately its coming back. Doctors are prescribing it again, because it works, and its cheap.
I'm still replacing my Methadone and Clonazepam high with my pep pills. Which as a bi polar my doctor shouldn't give me, but I asked him write it out for me so I could loose weight, and he did.
I really like Bright Eyes right now. Not as much as Nirvana, or Elliott Smith, but I've been listening to him/them a lot. I've got a feeling he's got a habit. He sings about a habit, in Lua. He doesn't talk directly directly about it, and I'm not even sure its junk, it could be coke. Coke isn't really addictive like Heroin, its habit forming, but you don't get sick when you get off it. You crave it, but your body doesn't need it. Not that coke addiction is any better than Heroin. I am a drug snob, even though I use any drug you put in front of me. I prefer opiates to all other drugs. Right now I'm substituting my opiate high for an amphetamine high. Still I consider myself a drug snob. I only like to hang out with opiate junkies. It takes one to know one. I think you got it bad. What was normal in the evening by the morning seem insane.
Did you ever notice you have a idea at night that seems like the best idea in the world, and in the morning the idea seems stupid,  Like I often want to kill myself at night, and in the morning I won't anymore. So I'm lucky I didn't do it that night, because I would have regretted it in the morning. 
I want to look skinny like a model with my eyes all painted black.