Saturday, April 30, 2011

Mostly about Gledwood.

I only got 20mgs of Methadone, but it was free. Methadone should hold me over for 48 hours. Then what? Sick, fuck I don't want to go sick. This 20mgs of Methadone isn't even holding off the sickness. Thank God for real friends, or I would be without Methadone completely. I'd be sick right now, well worse off. My luck with drugs is so very bad. I can't get a proper shot of H. I was suppose to get some H tonight also, but now I have to wait for up to a week. Fuck I hate Green Bay. I should move down to Chicago.

Right now I'm watching a British movie with Robert Pattionson in it. Something about a bad mom. Poor Robert Pattionson has to play a teenager and he's 24-25. Damn that boy is hot. Nothing compared to my dear cyber husbandGledwood darling. There is a lot of bloody this and bloddy that. Bloody hell, I can't keep track of the bloody movie. Bugger off now, is another thing they say. Do me head in why don't ya. Oh I'm down with all the British lingo.

Oh at long last I feel the Methadone kicking in. Bloody Christ that took long enough. Now that I've taken all 20mgs of the Methadone I won't have any opiates in my system when my dad finds out his pills aren't actually his pills. FUCK ME! Please people pray for me to get some opiates soon. I would do with Vidcoden/Hydrocodone. I don't care if the Tylenol kills my liver. I have hep C already my liver is probably scared to bloody hell.

I can't get off the British accent. I just adore listening to it. A Brit could read to me from a dull book and I would be captivated just by the accent. I wish there were more Brits here in Wisconsin. There were a few in Hawaii, but mostly Australian's. I knew a few Irishmen in Hawaii. I couldn't understand a word on of them said. I also met a Scottish man who I really couldn't understand. The slang over in Scotland is quite hard to decode.

Gledwood, I've put this song up before, but this time I dedicate it to, since I have a boy hangover on you once again. It seems I get on these tangents or emotional rollercosters where I believe Gledwood would save me from myself. Therefore I'm in love with him. Its quite pathetic actually. Not that Gledwood doesn't  deserve affection and love, but that I don't even know him in reality, and fall in cyber love with him over and over again is pathetic. He does these sweet things, and has Valarie comment and makes me smile even when I'm in a black mood. Why do I have to be nearly 3,000 miles away. I think at least we would make a great friends. I've only got one good friend. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you Gleds. 

Anyway here's the song for you.

My dad will spank me if he finds out what I did

Well as of this morning all of my dad's pills are gone. He has two days left, and then nothing. How could I be so selfish to let another addict go sick. He will never allow me to give him Methadone I bought on the black market, so I plan on trying to dose him. Not with much, as I'm afraid his tolerance isn't what mine is. 10 to 20mgs is what I plan on giving him in his soda or coffee. I'm not sure what amount of Oxycodon 5mgs is compared to Methadone. I'll have to research it. I know at the clinic they start you off at 30mgs no matter what your addicted to, and how potent it is.

My post last night was in the heat of the moment. I was sobbing, and felt so guilty and I just wanted to end it all, but I have things to live for. Plus if I killed myself and my dad didn't have his pills he would go nuts. He may even kill himself. He has told me if I died he would kill himself. So in reality if I kill myself I'll be committing murder. If there is a hell, I will surely burn.

I have my book coming out and that is a good reason to stay alive. Not hurting my parents even worse than disappointing them with my relapse is a good reason to stay alive. My book Teenage Angst  is a good reason to stay alive to see if I find a publisher, along with the book I'm writing now about my relationships with men. A very sexual book. No title as of yet. Notice the theme here all about me. Narcissistic! Self involved! Selfish! Stupid! All words that describe me.

I'm also getting some Heroin today. I'm going to save that for before I go back to the Methadone clinic so I have it in my system, and not Methadone so the clinic doesn't know I've been buying Methadone off the black market. They might not except me if I'm using Methadone without a prescription. I'm not sure of their policy. Even though when I went to the Methadone clinic in Hawaii I had Methadone in my system and they dosed me that day, but I also had a prescription from a doctor in Michigan who gave me the Methadone in lue of Dilauded.

I wish that my favorite bloggers blogged more. Come on Bmelonsandlemondade, Gledwood, John(pinsandgrins) Danny, Melodylee, and the rest of you I follow. HeroinHead hasn't put out a new post in ages. Aside from the one the other day in respect of a writer who died.

What else can I say, were all gay. Stolen words.

Friday, April 29, 2011

The start of a what ended up being a 6 month relapse

I'm in so much pain right now. I'm not sick, but so depressed it hurts. I keep thinking Anna, you can stay alive to see your book through. THE BOOK IS SHIT! The title rings true, I really do hate myself and want to die. I can't take credit for the title though, I got it from reading Heavier that Heaven about Kurt Cobain, where I learned Kurt wanted to title In Utero, I hate myself and want to die.

Some people read this blog and think I'm interesting, and can write about my life honestly. In reality this blog is all I have. It saves me from the suicidal thoughts rolling around and around in my head. Right now I can't stop crying. I'm so lonely, and just wish I had the guts to end it all.

I know this post is going to be every one's least favorite, but I'm writing it for myself.

I always wanted to be a singer songwriter. Turns out I have no talent. I have no ear for music. I love to listen to it though. I was so inspired by Kurt Cobain, and then he went and killed himself. I think fuck I don't even know the real person that Kurt was, and our up bringings are nothing alike. The only thing we have in common is an addiction and depression, millions of us do have that in common with him. I just wanted to be something special and it turns out I'm just normal. Everything I hate about other people, is what I hate most about myself.

Oh god, my eye makeup is all over my face. Why doesn't lighting strike me down right now. Why are we made to suffer through this life. Why do I drive past people on the street and wonder how they can wake up each morning not needing any kind of drug to stave off the sadness. How can they be so blissfully unaware? How are they happy? Sometimes driving past a family I just burst into tears and wish I could switch brains with them.

Do I make myself so sad? How do I stop? Its so hard to get off drugs, and I did it once, it just seems so impossible now.

I just don't know what to do with myself. I'm so lost. This world is so big, and my place is so small. I'm afraid if I die with no children I won't have anything for anyone to remember me by. This scares me to no end. I'm so vain, and narcissistic that I can't even let myself die without leaving something behind for people to remember me by.

I can't stand when people think I think I'm anything like Kurt Cobain. I'm nothing like him, I'm Anna Young and I have my own issues, and problems. I don't need his.

I can't say anything more.

Mixing pain pills and guns

That damn wedding is finally over, and now the TV is recapping it all. My God, I'm so sick of this wedding bullshit. If I ever get married Las Vegas and a drive thru window will do for me. Although I would like a small wedding on the beach in Hawaii. Small! I would also like to be loaded when I'm married.

Sometimes I get really high, and I get sick of it when its wearing off and that euphoria is gone, but your pupils are still pined and you keep nodding off no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

I'm off to weight watchers, I know that I lost 5lbs from weighing myself on our home scale. This junky diet is really working.

When my dad notices that I took all his pills, I'm afraid he won't leave for Arizona, and he won't let me go anywhere. I had a nightmare, that I was shooting up in my room, and my sister was there, and she saw me. She told my parents. My parents then ripped my room apart taking all my drugs and flushing them down the toilet. Trying to trap me in the house. As I tried to pack my things, and make my way over to the homeless shelter, or over to my friends house. I knew though in my dream that my friend couldn't help me out because she's in a very precarious position in her home life. Plus my friend is trying to stay clean, and wouldn't want me around using. I felt like a teenager not a 28 year old adult, who can leave anytime I want to.

If I get lucky and my dad doesn't notice the switch out of pills I did, I'm going to send a note with the pills down to Arizona that tells him that I took the real pills, and that I'm going back to the Methadone clinic.

Yesterday I saw my shrink, and I told him I was using, and you would never guess what he did. He gave me Narcan in case I overdose. Which was really cool of him. Although I will be by myself using and if I OD, I'm not going to get that Narcan in my system myself. He gave me the liquid form, and wrote me out a script to syringes to inject the Narcan. That's the first time my insurance ever paid for syringes. I have to keep the Narcan in the refrigerator, so I told my dad its a drug like Suboxone that keeps me from using. I told my friend that I got this Narcan, and if she knows I have Heroin and she calls which she does everyday and I don't answer that she should come over and give me a Narcan shot. It takes time to OD, it takes time for your lungs to stop working. I've never herd of someone ODing instantly. Its probably happened. Kurt Cobain took a mega dose, that would kill three men over again, and still he had the time to put a shot gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. I wonder if he shot up so much dope to make sure the gunshot didn't hurt,  or if he just wanted to make sure he died? Both probably.

Gledwood, will you marry me? Just thought I would ask. I loved your commentary on the wedding. Your so witty. My ideal Internet partner.

So, the point of this post is like the wedding today, I'm royally fucked. Dad's going to get sick. May 5th can't come fast enough. That's the day my dad leaves for Arizona. I will be free, but bored, and full of guilt, until his pills come via fed ex around the 6th, and I can overnight them to him with the note.

Sorry to go on and on about this, but its the only thing I'm thinking about. I'm sure you could care less weather my dad goes berserk and kills me for yet again stealing his pills. Tomorrow I get Methadone from a different friend. If he starts to get sick, I'll put 5mgs in his soda. Hold him over.

I'm making the drive down to Chicago again sometime after the 1st when I get my SSI. I won't be able to spend a huge amount, because I only have like 300 dollars to last me a month.

Gleds, about the guns in America. Its absurd. The only reason you can have a hand gun is for protection. eg: if someone breaks into your house you can shoot that person for trespassing. You have to get a special perment to get a concealed hand gun, and its rather hard to get. There are still considered for self protection, eg: a gun in your purse or glove compartment is in case you get mugged, or car jacked. America is split in half on the gun issues. It is in our constitution the right to bear arms. The right wingers don't want to loose that right. I imagine they are afraid of getting their hunting rifles, and shotguns taken away. I did once have a boyfriend who used a hand gun to shoot a deer. Willy was his name. He was my high school sweetheart. I was 15 and he was 20 when we started dating. I look back and think gross, he was child molesting. I felt so bad for that deer. He collected hand guns, not for protection, but for fun. He never planed on using it. Except when I broke up with him, he put one of the guns to his head. Its gang members, and serial killers that really show the cause to eliminate the right to bear arms from our constitution. Getting a gun is easy here, its the perments to carry them with you at all times that's hard to get. A lot of people get put in jail for carrying hand guns on their person without a perment.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Elliot Smith's song Kings Crossing

"King's Crossing"

The king's crossing was the main attraction

Dominoes falling in a chain reaction

A scraping subject ruled by fear

Told me whiskey works better than beer

The judge is on vinyl, decisions are final

And nobody gets a reprieve

And every wave is tidal - if you hang around

You're going to get wet

I can't prepare for death any more than I already have

All you can do now is watch the shells

The game looks easy, that's why it sells

Frustrated fireworks inside your head

Are going to stand and deliver talk instead

The method acting that pays my bills

Keeps a fat man feeding in Beverly Hills

I got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity

And I get my check from the trash treasury

Because I took my own insides out

It don't matter 'cos I have no sex life

And all I want to do now is inject my ex-wife

I've seen the movie and I know what happens

It's Christmas time, and the needles on the tree

A skinny Santa is bringing something to me

His voice is overwhelming, but his speech is slurred

And I only understand every other word

Open your parachute and grab your gun

Falling down like an omen, a setting sun

Read the part and return at five

It's a hell of a role if you can keep it alive

But I don't care if I fuck up

I'm going on a date with a rich white lady

Ain't life great?

Give me one good reason not to do it

(Because I love you)

So do it

This is the place where time reverses

Dead men talk to all the pretty nurses

Instruments shine on a silver tray

Don't let me get carried away

Don't let me get carried away

Don't let me be carried away

This is such a beautiful song. I wish I could have seen Elliott live.  I'm very depressed.

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I like to fuck women while they have their period

Its official my dad is going to go sick. I'm in big trouble. I'm terrified, and want to kill myself, but I want to stay alive to see the release of my book. It was suppose to come out in May, but its been pushed back to September because it needed so much editing, and I made some many changes. Plus I want to see if I make any money off the book. I doubt I will, but the book is a reason to stay alive. My dad will be in Arizona when May's supply of pills come in. I'm going to fed ex them straight to my dad, that way I won't be able to use them. I'll go back on Methadone or Suboxone.

I have an appointment with my shrink today, and I don't know if I should tell him about my relapse. He might take away my sleepers, and my clonazepam, along with the Speed. I am going to ask for a reference to a doctor who does prescribe Suboxone. God, I wish my Dr. didn't loose his licence to prescribe narcotics.

Right now I still think I'm in control of my addiction, but fuck, now that I've taken all my dad's pills I know I'm out of control. I have two really bad problems. First I'm an addict, second I'm bi polar. If I do kill myself before the book comes out I want to do so on Heroin, and sleepers, and Clonazepam, and Xanax. Non of those pills cause nausea, so I won't vomit it all up before it kills me. Heroin does make you nauseous sometimes, but since its been injected your not throwing up the actual Heroin. I don't get nauseous from Heroin, so I won't have a problem. Watch me chicken out. Although if my dad is really disappointed in me, and screams and yells, and disowns me I'll definitely be on my edge. I hate myself so much for stealing his pills. I feel like the scum of the earth.

Danny, I would write more about sex, but I'm not having any so you'll have to wait and see if I decide to off myself, and if I don't I will try and get some cock. Then write about and post it for all to read. I will write more jail posts. Although jail was very boring, but there is a lot that goes on day to day that was abnormal. Like this old bitch that was in the Metal health unit with me and she was disgusting. She farted, didn't wear underwear or a bra, so you could spell her sticking pussy. She wouldn't even take a whores bath. Then her tits sagged down to her waist. Watching her eat made me sick to my stomach. Then there was the lady who was mentally retarded, who had put her kids in a dresser and set it on fire. She took a shit in the shower, and the guards tried to make me clean it up. I was like hell no, that's your job. The guards tried to tell me that I would get points as a good inmate. I asked would it get me out faster, they said nope. So I said fuck off and die asshole, you clean up that shit and blood. She was also on her period. That's another little taste of what I faced while in jail. BTW, all three of the retards kids died, but she was found not fit to stand trial, so she was waiting to be sent to the State Mental Institution.

Here on TV its all about the Royal Wedding. Just get that damn wedding over with, and why do us American's care. Its a different country. I'd much rather be English than American, so I shouldn't throw stones in a glass house. I'm mostly Irish, but no English blood that I know of. I haven't done my genealogical charting, but from what I've been told, I'm mostly Irish on both sides. I do like Irish accents. Its English, but you still can't understand them. I need a bloody fag. So I'm going to end this post.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Another jail post

More jail stuff. I want to make it clear, I was only in county jail, not prison. I did my 77 days in county jail.

In jail people segregate themselves by race. Whites with whites, blacks with blacks, Mexicans with Mexicans. Yet I was in the mental health part of jail, so I made friends with add different races. I made good friends with a Latino girl named Anneta. She was in the same pod/cell block as me for 10 days. Both of us didn't like cards, and at the time were to sick, and scared to watch TV, read, do anything but talk to each other. Then she got moved to Gen Pop, and I was alone again. Then there was this white lady who was very suicidal, she drank the cleaning products they brought in for us to clean with, and tried to slice her wrists with a pen. From drinking the cleaning products she just had a horrible stomach ache. With pen all she did was scratch herself.

In Wisconsin, they don't allow any opiates in jail. Only if your in the hospital, and even then they are very hard to get the doctor to prescibe you to it. Even if your on Methadone. No tapper, just cold turkey. One person I was in jail with died from a seizure coming off Methadone and Xanax. At that time the state government reviewed their policy on not weening people off of at least Benzos. There was never any changes made, exception one jail, in Appleton WI. There they give you your Methadone.

In jail there were no drugs to find. Sure people cheeked their drugs, but they were mostly phsycotropic drugs. I didn't want any of that, I was getting Clonazepam, because I have a good doctor, who insisted I needed my Clonazepam in jail. I was also getting my bi polar meds.

I only had one fight in jail, and mind you I'm not an aggressive person, until I'm pushed to a point. This black girl was always on the phone, and I called my parents every day at four pm. This girl wouldn't let me use the phone two days in a row to call home. Finally I confronted her, she got into my face talking Ebonics, and I just lost it. I took her by the hair, and slammed her face into the ground three times. I hit her over the head with the phone until the phone broke. Which sucked, because I just wanted to call home. The guards came in, and all the other girls in the pod vouched that it was the black girls doing, and I was just defending myself. She got put in segregation.

IN jail it smells like body odor, smelly pussy, dirty hair, and shit. God forbid one of us got our period, and we only had these really thin pads to use, which got blood all over the place. Which reminds me I should get another HIV test. Its been about that amount of time when the virus would show up in my bloodstream .

If there is anything else you'd like to know just ask. I'll post about it. This one is for Gledwood.

Oh yes, I want comments again. Even the haters. I miss the attention. I'd rather be hated for what I am, than loved for what I am not.

77 days in jail

Well, today I had to take some of my dad's pain pills. I hate doing this, and am terrified he will find out. I know he's going to find out, but I just dread that day. It will be next week Monday or Tuesday when he refills his pill box.

I woke up not being able to sit still. My legs were jerking uncontrollably, my heart rate was high, I couldn't focus on anything. So I made the bold move to steal the pills. Now I'm so much calmer, not depressed, not happy, just even. Just another mundane day here in Wisconsin. Nothing good is on the TV. So I figured I'd blog. Let you people who read this be bored by my pointless post.

I'll talk about my time in jail. I've been in jail five times, only two of those for more than a day. My first time in jail for 13 days, I was not allowed my medications, because at the time I didn't have a shrink. Plus I was withdrawing from Methadone 140mgs. I would have these intense dreams about using. I would wake up in the middle of the night not knowing that I had actually fallen asleep, thinking I just used, and would have to look at my arm to see no new pin pricks. From being in withdrawal, and being bi polar, I aimed to attempt suicide in jail. I didn't have anything sharp, but a pencil, so I was going to stab myself with the pencil in my jugular. I ended up thinking if I told the guards I was going crazy I would get into the Mental hospital(much better than jail). Well it didn't work that way. I told the guard I was thinking of suicide but I didn't really want to do it and hurt my parents. So suddenly two guards came into my cell and took me out. They told me I had two choices, either go into solitary confinement naked for three days, or be put in four point restraints. Since I was sick, and I didn't want a cell mate I chose the three days. I did my three days...and you can read the rest in my book I Hate Myself and Want to Die, coming out in September, by Trafford Publishing house.

During my 77 days in jail, I was given Bi Polar medication, along with anxiety medication. This is because first I had a shrink, and second it was a jail in a different county. The jail I was in for 13 days was in Green Bay, the jail I was in for 77 days was in Oshkosh. Oshkosh was a much better jail. It still sucked, but at the end of that 77 days I was free and clear. No probation, no worries about the law, plus I was going to start getting SSI. I won't say I wasn't depressed, as I cried like a baby, I was again withdrawing from 140mgs of Methadone. I was sick for about the first month, then it got better. While in jail I was so afraid that one of my parents was going to die, and I wouldn't be let out to go to their funeral. For those of you have ever been in jail, you know how people write on the walls I love so and so. Usually a boyfriends name, well I wrote I love mom and dad everywhere.

I was kept in Pod A, which was the mental health pod. Pods are cell blocks. I moved cells four times. For one day I was accidentally moved into gen pop, but was taken out before the days end. The nurse noticed the mistake. I didn't eat for 16 days, they put me on a liquid diet, and gave me soda. So I wouldn't die. They even threatened me with solitary for attempting suicide by starvation. I told the nurse I just couldn't eat because I was withdrawing from Methadone, and I was depressed. Which was the truth. I wanted to see the light at the end of being in jail.  I ended up getting a kidney stone. Which is the worse pain in the fucking world, and they didn't bring me to the hospital until after I passed the stone. The pain killer I got was Tylenol. I was writhing in pain. The whole experience sucked. I didn't learn anything except how to be a better criminal. I think like a criminal now. What can I steal? How can I get away with this? Shit like that.

I got out two weeks before Xmas, and it was the best Xmas present I ever gotten.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

How do explain something no one can understand without going through it.

Okay, I'm going to explain the ins and outs of my bi polar mania. As per Gledwood request.

Before I started Bi Polar medications, I would get these really grandiose feelings. I was the best at whatever I was doing, I could do no wrong. Nothing in my life could go wrong. I would talk, talk, talk. Those of you use Heroin, you know that feeling when your high, not super high, just feeling great, and you want to talk, about anything? That's how I talked. I wouldn't sleep for days straight. The longest time I've ever gone without sleep is 5 full days. I was put in a mental hospital during this mania. The main reason I was put in the hospital, is because I was seeing a bear with no eyes, and he was following me. He stood on two feet, it was more a man in a bears costume with no eyes. I became very paranoid and accused my parents of wanting to kill me because I was so much better than them. I had an overly high self esteem. This happened when I was on drugs, Dilauded, and it still didn't even me out. It felt more like I was on Crystal Meth. Oh god, and sex, I wanted sex so badly. I HAD so much sex.

There is a lot of contradictions in how I felt and acted.  Doctors thought I was on Crystal Meth, but I was on Dilauded. Even in the hospital during a forced sobriety, I should have gone through withdrawals, but I never felt a thing. I was just happy. Happy even though I was in a locked mental ward. Still I couldn't shake the paranoia, and that damn man in a bears costume with no eyes was after me. 

I was bull rushed by an all male staff one night after getting violent with a nurse because she was forcing me take medication that wasn't Dilauded. I got a shot in the ass of Haldol, and Advant, and put in a padded room for 8 hours. In this room I talked to myself for hours on end, laughing at how hysterical I was. Finally the Haldol, and Advant did its job and I finally slept.

God this is hard to explain. I've never really had to put into words how I feel when I'm manic.

Before medication my moods swung wildly. From month to month, I was up and down. Getting hospitalized for both mania, and depression. They would prescribe me meds but I wouldn't take them so I could get happy again. I used to tell my mom I just want to get happy again. Those of you who have taken a first hit of Crystal Meth sort of know what a mania is like. Sorta! You feel like you can do anything, and be anyone, go anywhere, be anything. I would repeat myself over and  over. Think the same thought over and over. Then suddenly have a million thoughts crash into one, and all those pieces of thoughts were thought over and over again. I don't think you can understand how that feels unless you've experienced it. I'm always very productive during a mania, I clean, read, write, take care of all affairs needed to be tended to.

Now that I'm on medication, my moods don't swing as often. Probably ever two months really bad swings. Normally I'm just depressed. No matter what anti depressant they put me on.

This is really hard for me to write. It makes me sick to my stomach. I just want to be happy again.
Just to be clear I didn't and don't always see an eyeless bear. That was a one time mania. Although I always have feelings of paranoia when I'm manic. I believe that everyone is talking about me, and why wouldn't they, I am after all God's gift, or so I felt.

Bye, Bye, Black bird.

Well I'm out of H, and my friend hasn't come through with a little Methadone to hold me over. So I took some speed this morning to make me feel  like living. It gives me the shakes, and I can't sleep. Well I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. I do have sleepers, and Valium. I should just lock myself in my room with my sleepers and Valium and sweat it out. Come out seven days later, an extra few day more than I need just to make sure.

Has anyone ever seen the movie Candy? If your a junkie I suggest you watch this movie. It really describes the ride H takes you on. Trainspotting is one of my all time favorite movies. That's where I got the idea to lock myself in a room and detox.  Although I'm not completely strung out. Its more a mental thing right now. Aside from a runny nose, watery eyes, and a sick stomach, along with yawning all the time. I can cum really easy also. Just the slightest touch and I'm screaming OH GOD, OH GOD! Soon, if I don't get any H, or methadone, or Oxycodone aka Percocets, my sexual appiete will come on strong. I could call Jess, and get some that way, but I'm not ready for that just yet. Jesus, if its not drugs, it sex with me. I swear to you, I must have borderline personality disorder. I take risks just to feel alive. Like going down to a gang ridden area of Chicago with a Purto Rican who I can barely communicate with and go into a drug dealers house, who has never met me and make him weigh the Heroin in front of me.

My mood is up and down all at one time. From second to second, minute to minute my mood changes. This I assume is due to the little withdrawals I'm going through. I could take some of my dad's Oxycodone, but I've taken so many he's already going to go sick this month. I have a secret about that, that I can't share on Internet due to family members reading. I'll leave this secret in a blogs comments that I always comment on. Its a stupid secret, but I'm terrified my dad will notice so I had to do something. Those of who don't know if its pins, needles, and grins, or Hashish dreams and nightmares, or Gledwood. I love all these blogs, but I'm particularly fascinated with one of them.

I just got news, that I won't be able to get Methadone until Saturday. So three days of detox. That should get rid of the small withdrawals I'm going through, but the cravings will still be there. On May 7 or the 10 I'm going to go back to the Methadone clinic. Stay on a low dose. Yet, I don't want to be on Methadone, because I'm loosing all this weight, and going back on Methadone will make me sedentary, and bring back my appiete. Do I wait until I'm down to my normal One hundred and forty pounds, and then go back and maintain that weight, or do I go on Methadone and fight really hard to loose weight. That damn Methadone makes me crave sweets something fierce. That's all I eat when I'm on it. I haven't eaten in two days using H. I'm suppose to go out to lunch with my dad at Red Lobster for his fifty fourth birthday. I don't know if I'll be able to eat. I might just get shrimp scampi, and eat as much as possible. God, I'm so not hungry, food just disgusts me.

I know its not healthy to starve, because then when you eat again your body will take those calories and store them right away as fat because your body thinks it will starve again.

So that's all there is to it. My life. Day to day.  My thoughts, ideas, fears, desires, and flaws.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Pull the trigger

I said in my last post that I would post two short poems. These are my poems from my adult life, not my teenage angst days. I'm not sure where my parents stored those poems. I would have to rifle through a lot of stuff to find them, so your left to read my shit. I mean they are truly shitty poems. Pure rubbish.

Opiate Cat Tails(has nothing to do with opiates)

Little monsters in the details
looking in the mirror I see no reflections
I lost my words, they have no inflection.

Meaningless love fights for death
A loveless dove takes its first breath
My favorite whore is dead
My favorite whore always in my head.
If you go I will surely die
If you stay I will surely lie
Lay dead in my bed.

Take the knife kill your wife
The man is a lady, the lady is a man
said the man to the lady.
A whores in my bed.

Sixteen Marigolds

16 magrigolds 12 of them are dead
I haven't the heart to look at them
My heart is a black bird flying away to sit on my perch and die

16 merigolds 12 are dead all those merigolds bloom in the frost
My tears freeze on my face in the cold
Thoughts wander off to the needle and I miss my works

16 Merigolds 12 are dead
I smoke my camel cigarettes without looking and my 12 dead merigolds
my poor dead merigolds.

I'm a half dead merigold 16 of me are alive 12 are dead
So there is some bad poetry for you to suck on. Only I know what they are truly about.

Aside from that, I woke up not sick, not sad, just normal. I could have gone without dope, but it was there waiting for me, calling me, and I fixed. I shouldn't use the word fix, because I wasn't fixing anything I was just getting myself closer to being fully strung out. My life is ruled by addiction, such a sad thought. My life is ruined by my addiction. Who knows what I'd have become had I taken the straight road. Lived in the straight world. I've lost 11 years to a needle.

When your not high you glorify that high in your mind, then you get high for the first time in a while, and it feels great, then you stay high, and you wonder why.

I guess I don't have anything good to say. I'm waiting on a friend to get me some Methadone to hold me over until I can afford to buy some more gear. Which will hopefully be a long time away. I wish that now, but when I'm out I'll be craving it, and calling around for it. Paying too high a price for it. Change that line of thought. I will not use anymore. Its a waste of time, money and a life. God grant me the serenity.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Go ahead leave your anon comments, you have a right to say what you think/feel.

Today is Easter Sunday, and I woke up very depressed. I had tears in eyes for no reason at all. So I fixed up a small shot, and got ready for our family lunch. I think my depression is being caused by my use of Heroin. I had bad depression before I started using again.

About a month ago I was in a mild mania, and was able to start a new book chronicling my time with Jess. If you haven't read my blog before, Jess was a guy I was obsessed with for about five months. We dated for a short time, and I had told him I didn't want to be in a relationship when we first started having sex. When I said I was finally ready for a relationship he said he wanted to keep the things as they were. Just a sexual relationship. I was heart broken. The book is part non fiction and part fiction. I'm not creative enough to write about something I just made up completely from my imagination.

The book is part erotic fiction, with a story line. I can write about sex in detail and not feel embarrassed about it in the least bit. I wrote my second book, Teenage Angst about my time in Middle school and high school as an out cast, who couldn't stand being near people. How I used pain medication and extasy, and shrooms, etc to make myself like people a little. I still don't like many people. I prefer to be alone. Although it would be nice to have a male companion who understands the ins and outs of Bi Polar, and addiction.

Now that I'm thinning out I've been getting a lot more male attention. When I was in Arizona I was asked out by a taxi driver, the same one who hooked me up with the Heroin. I was whistled at a number of times while walking from doctors office to doctors office while doctor shopping for Dilauded. I'm not going to lie it feels good to know men find me attractive once again. I'm still forty pounds away from my average weight of one hundred and forty pounds. If I keep on using, I will probably get down to 120lbs. Which at that weight I look like skin and bones. I truely look like death warmed over. Black circles around my eyes, not to mention the black eyeliner that I wear. Pale skin, tattered clothes with cigarette burns in everything I own. Never a smile on my face unless I feel that rush when I mainline. Then I feel better any other time I've known in life. Including orgasms.

I've enabled anon commenter's again. I feel people who read this blog have the right to express their feelings, and opinions. No matter how rude, cruel, or nice. I'm sure I'm going to get comments about how I'll never be attractive, and no matter how much weight I loose men will never want to be with me because I'm such a fucking loser. I get a lot of mean comments. It was just that one where the anon said I think that I'm like Kurt Cobain, or Elliott Smith, and that I was fat, ugly, and stupid. I just couldn't believe that someone would think that I have the audacity to think I have any talent at all. If I wanted to be compared to someone I would rather it be Anne Sexton, or Sylvia Plath. I do write poetry, but I burn most of it because its so bad. My parents have kept about five notebooks full of my poetry from my teenage years, mainly because I was published in a local Magazine. In my adult years writing poetry has been mostly about opiates, at least in some way. After Pete and I broke up(Pete my boyfriend for five years back when I was addicted badly and broke up with me after stealing 1,000 dollars from him) I wrote some romantic/love lorn poems. In a way my poems are still love lorn, but geared towards my love of opiates.

I will post a few poems in my next post just to show you how I haven't the talent Anne Sexton or Sylvia Plath had. I relate a lot to Anne Sexton. I just read a book called Heroin and Genius, and it talked about all the talented people who were brought down by drugs, drink, suicide. Rimbaud was my favorite story, he was such an interesting man. I wish I had half his guts. I relate to Rimbaud because he burned his poems also. Some of them. No I'm not saying I have any talent at all. I just relate in very distant way.

Oh God, am I going to get shit for this post. I know non of you want to read poetry, so I'll make it two short poems. I assure you they are atrocious.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

disabled anon comments

Okay, I'm going to try to explain this as best as I can. First and foremost I'm not lying on my blog, I'm lying to my family. Which makes it hard to be forthcoming. I tell my family that reads my blog that I'm lying. The comment about my track being googled was what I used as a cover when my aunt called me immediately after seeing this photo. Although she did see my blanky and blanket in the background. Which was hard to explain away.
 My dad will probably notice that I'm stealing his pills when he refills them on Monday or Tuesday. Which will be a sort of relief. Then I can go back to the Methadone clinic, and get on a low dose of Methadone and keep using on the side. Methadone doesn't keep the depression away, so when I need to I would use the H to keep from feeling like killing myself.

I used my jugular because I was in a hurry and couldn't find a vein. I wanted to mainline and didn't want to skin pop. So I went to where I know I could get a flash, and the blood come into the syringe. I don't normally do this. Only when in a hurry. My mom was in the next room.

I swear on my sister Angie's grave that I'm not lying.

So yesterday I went to Chicago with the middle man, and we went to the north side, I ended up getting a good deal, I got a gram for 100 dollars. Normally here in GB its 130 to one hundred and forty. Green Bay is dry except for what the middle man who supplies most of GB has, and what I have. The H was strong, and I only need 0.2g to get high. I mean wasted. Nodding and everything. I did this after my dad went to sleep so I was up until around...well right now. I just did a really small shot, less than 0.1g just to keep me in a good mood, and try to explain to everyone why things aren't adding up. My dad has already left for the bar to drink himself into a good mood, or for all I know to see his mistress.

This blog is a struggle for me to keep up, and keep my family in the dark. Would you rather me lie to you or my family? I would rather lie to my family to keep from hurting them. BTW, my arm isn't that fat, it just an extreme close up. I went to weight watchers today and I lost ten pounds, so I'm down to 180lbs. Having a bit of habit keeps me from eating so I'm loosing weight like you wouldn't believe.

I may even delete this blog and go over to Wordpress and start a new blog so I can be honest and not have to lie to my family . This way they won't find my new blog, because I won't advertise it on facebook, and Twitter. I would loose a lot of readers, but at least I wouldn't be bombarded with cruel insults on my comments.

I set my settings to not allow anonymous commenter's. The one I got last night when I was just about to fix, it said something about me not being a female Kurt Cobain, and that I was a lame fat junkie. It saddened me to think that people think that I'm trying to be like Kurt Cobain. That man had talent I will never have. I don't even have a little talent in my pinkie finger. This I know about myself. There is no need for people to remind me that I'm a useless fat junkie. Thank God I had dope to fix up with as soon as I read that comment, because it almost sent me over the edge. I just felt like killing myself knowing, and having other people tell me how I have no talent. Just thinking about that comment makes me cry.

I know I lied once about using, and I'll always have non believers. Short of having someone come over and see me or skype my using, there will be non believers. I would like to see one of you try to be honest about using on your blog where family members read it, and keeping them from believing it. Its a tedious balance.

Even Gledwood questions my use. He's my closest friend on here. Gledwood if you have skype I'm willing to show you the bags of H I got, and show me fixing. I'll do enough to nod out, and you'll see that I'm using again. The Heroin I got was China White, and it doesn't even have to be cooked up you just have to put water in it, and stir it with the tip of the plunger, and put a cotton ball in and suck up the H. Its not clumply, its pure powder. The dealer was a black man, I don't know if he had any gang affiliation.

Gledwood, you do realize your not in my positon, I have to go to the North Side of Chey town aka the windy city, because that's where my middle man goes. I did set up a contact with him, and have his number so when I want I can come down by myself to pick up. Only when I'm picking up a sizable amount though. The thing is I don't feel safe unless I have a man come with me. Back before the Methadone I would go down there by myself, because my dealer would meet me just outside of Chicago at a gas station. So I didn't have to go into the inner city.

So now when my aunt reads this I'm sure I'm going to get a phone call or email asking me whats going on. Who are you lying to, me or the readers. The only thing I can do is start a new blog somewhere else. Hopefully my followers will still come read. Those of you who don't believe just don't read it.
The mass of my comments are rude, and cruel. I don't see anybody else's blog where the readers are so cruel. I know you want the satisfaction of knowing you hurt me. Here you have it. You've hurt me.

I'm getting so frustrated it sounds like I'm advocating using opiates, but in reality I would never advocate the use of Heroin or Opiate pills. All it does is cause pain. Not just the addiction, which kills you inside and out, but writing about it and having people call you fat, useless, junky. I have low self esteem. I don't deserve anything, and I'm not asking for anything. You don't have to believe me. I know I'll still get cruel comments because I admitted that they hurt me.

Well, I have my medicine now, and those who want to hurt me with their words you'll have to show your name. With my medication those words don't hurt any more than sticks and stones. When I'm high sticks and stones don't hurt as much. Still I remember every word.

As far as my veins go. I have tiny veins. I don't have those arms where you just stretch out your arm and clench your fist and tons of veins show up. Mine are hidden, and I have to take a lot of time feeling them out, and poking around to find one. I never even knew I had any good veins on my right arm, until a nurse took blood from that arm. After that I marked it with a indelible marker for when I needed it. Turns out its a very good vein, except after I miss a little, then the blood won't blossom in again for another day. My wrists are all scared from a suicide attempt, along with the forearm. As I sliced my arms four times up and down. Although every now and again I can get into my wrist. My hands have long dried up. That's where I first started banging. I had many different veins on my hands. My legs are too fat to find a vein in. Hopefully while on weight watchers I'll get down to 120lbs again, and will be able to find a vein in my thigh. "Goal set".

That's all I've got. If things don't add up I can't explain anymore than I already have. Your just not going to believe me. So just stop reading. I may enable anon commenters again, but right now I'm not ready to read your straight up mean and hurtfull comments.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Anon nay sayers this is what I say.

Wow, what a bunch of anon's questioning  my usage of Heroin. When I get my ten bags today I will take a photo and put them up on my blog for the day. I took a photo of one track mark because its the vein I use most, I go into my wrist a lot, but why put up four photos of all my tracks? I thought one would do it, but obviously not.

I don't know why it makes me angry that no-one believes me. I shouldn't care. Its just a diary after all. As far as suicide who knows I may live out a long loner life. I have made several attempts on my life, and have had to be resuscitated after a dose of 500, 350mg aspirin along with a bottle of wine. I've slit my wrists, which makes it hard to find a vein on my wrist, and up my forearm.

I guess its up to you. Believe or don't. It is after all happening to me, and not you.

Gledwood, to shoot up in the jugular you have to make sure the needle is pointing down, and squeeze you neck so you can see the jugular, then you stick the needle in pull the plunger back and when the blood comes rushing in you push the heroin home into the jugular. Its easier if you have someone to do it for you, while you lay down and your head is upside down hanging off the bed, and then they go in and do it for you. Which I did when I was shooting coke on that binge in my book.

As for the book that I sent you, is the first draft, its been edited and things changed to make descriptions better. Along with the dialogue.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

It came through

OH my God, I praise you lord. I shall acknowledge passover. My connection came through, and I'll be getting my gear tomorrow. I put up a shit fit, and said I don't want my money back, and that I'm going down to Chicago with this guy, and I'm making sure he's not ripping me off. eg: giving me five bags instead of ten because now suddenly the bags are twenty dollars.

I'm not in that bad of way right now, my dad went to the bar, and I took ten of his Percocets. That's  fifty  mgs of Oxycodone. Just please dear God please don't let my dad notice the missing pills. He would have a shit fit, and more importantly he would be disappointed in me.

I'm not desperately sad right now, but I did just take three ten mgs of Ambien so I could fall asleep and get to tomorrow faster.

That photo of my track mark has to come down soon, my family will see it and want to look at my arms and realize why I wear long sleeve shirts and sweat jackets all the time. I just put it up there to prove to the nay sayers that I am truly using again.

How many times do I have tell anon commenter's, whatever you say I already think of myself. Your words can't hurt me as much as my thinking hurts me. So have at me.

The commenter who introduced me to the song Legalize Heroin thank you. I love it. I love Iron and Wine too. Bright eyes, and Elliott Smith, and all those singer songwriter's music.

I don't know the exact time its coming in tomorrow so I'm going to be in tizzy all day. Lord all mighty please let it be early. Now I should let those Ambien kick in and sleep this day away.

Do you want your money back. Fuck no.

I'm home in Wisconsin, and guess what? No dope, the person sold it on me and is giving me my money back. He's out of gear and has to drive down to Chicago to get more. I tried to explain that I wanted him to take my money and buy more gear while down there, but he's Purto Rican and we can't communicate very well. I'm crying my eyes out. I have works and no gear. There is nothing anybody can do for me.

Oh well its probably a good thing. Forced sobriety. I might go out and get drunk, buy some alcohol get jiggy wit it. LOL! That's so not me. Aside form the getting drunk to forget part.

The flight home was misery, I had four layovers, and gates far apart. Walking thru those airports I definitely went down in weight. Yay me. Fuck me. I'd rather be fat and high , not sad and skinny. The thing is when I get strung out I get really skinny. Down to 120 lbs last time I got strung out. That really doesn't matter if I get skinny, or if I get high, if this sadness gets any worse I'm going to hang myself. My dad leaves back for Arizona May 6th, and I'll finally get it over with sooner rather than later.

This bipolar isn't working out too good in my favor, too many lows as compared to highs. I took some speed today just to get something into my receptors to make me feel at least like moving. IF it weren't for the speed non of you would be able to read this new post. I need me a cigarette and a shower. So I'm leaving with this. I hate my face, I hate this place, and I'm not strung out again.

Wait a minute. I want to clarify something, I don't want to be strung out, I just want to use every few days when I'm sad, just to make the sadness dull or go away. Although if I have a lot of dope around I can't contain myself and I use it all right away. No will power.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

In Yuma Arizona visiting my mom, and right around the first day I started using opiates again

The day is going along. The sky is big and blue, the sun bright and overhead. The temperature is in the mid 80's, not a hint of humidity is in the air. I'm in a foul mood. I even took 10mg of Dilauded, and didn't feel a thing aside from no more runny nose, and I stopped yawning every few seconds. A small habit I acquired here in Yuma.

Out by the pool are two very pretty girls, and two little baby girls. One of the girls is the mother of both babies. They have awesome tattoos and I want a tattoo on my shoulder down to where a short sleeve shirt would stop. I would have an underwater picture with a mermaid, and fish, and flowers. I'm almost thirty, I can do what I want to my body. Still I would disappoint my dad if I got a big tattoo. I have two tattoos now. One on my foot of a four leaf clover with my sister Angie's name in it, and a tattoo on my ass of my ex boyfriend Pete's lips. Both are small tattoos. I got the one on my ass done while I was high and drunk, and everyone said I would regret it, but I don't at all.

Tomorrow morning I leave for the airport at 5am. In Wisconsin I have 8 inches of snow to look forward to. I'm used to 80's and 90's, and I'll be going back to 20 degree weather. Poor Eleanor is going to be shocked. I'm suppose to have ten bags of H waiting for me, but the chances that its still there are 50/50. So really I have nothing to look forward to at home. Bad weather, bad, overpriced, dope cut to shit. Hip hip hooray. Plus I have a long flight with three layovers. All with a huge purse, and carring my dog in her bag. I think I'm going to pretend I can't walk and get into a wheel chair, so one of those trolleys comes along they can pick me up and bring me to my gate. Fuck it I can walk. Weight watchers says...walk, walk, walk.

Last night I didn't sleep a wink. I shot up around midnight, and I nodded out, but never really slept. I'll probably sleep good tonight, but I have to get up early, and we have no alarm clock. Well my mom has one on her phone, but what if we don't hear it? Why did I pick a flight that leaves so early. I should have asked my parents to up me to first class. Like that will happen. My parents don't even fly first class. It would be nice on the long flight from San Diego to Minnesota. The rest of my flights are at most a hour.

I don't think anything could pick up my mood right now, aside from a big shot of Heroin. That Mexican tar I got was more potent than the Dilauded I have. Great now I have a tolerance, making the H I "might" have at home even more shitty.

Who doesn't think of themselves as the black sheep of the family? Just wondering. If you do or don't feel like a black sheep tell me why. Leave a comment or if you don't want people to see email me. You can also get my blog emailed to you. Right underneath my picture is a white box and at the right end it says submit, well just put in your email address and click submit. Boom, every time I blog your alerted by email. I like it, I follow a number of blogs this way. BTW Gledwood you should get this fancy button. Many of us would like to know immediately after you blog. Those of us with smart phones, our emails ring on our phones, have it best. When your board you always have a new blog to read. Oh yeah, my email is or

Nobody commented under my last post. I guess I just reiterated what everyone thinks, or what most people who read my blog think.

Monday, April 18, 2011

The DEA is killing people. Aren't they suppose to save people?

Its not my last day in Yuma Arizona. I'm here until Wednesday. I'm not going to have enough drugs to get me home. FUCK! I've used up all the H, and some of the Dilauded. When I wake up in the morning I'm so depressed and anxious that I feel the only solution is to either shoot up, or kill myself. I choose to shoot up. Right away I feel better.

 If only shrinks would prescribe diamorphine as an antidepressants. It may not work on everyone, but people with sever mental illness like bi polar should be allotted diamorphine for the depression. Not so much to get you loaded, just enough to take the edge off. To let you sleep an average amount of time, eat an average amount of food, keep your moods stable. Of course this is all a dream. Perhaps in Amsterdam they will allow this.

 When someone is contemplating suicide and has made several real attempts on their own life leaving them with permeate damage to their health, and all other medications are not stopping the mood swings, and suicidal ideations then as a doctor with a dieing cancer patient would, prescribe morphine, dilauded, etc a shrink should be able to prescribe a patient dieing of bi polar, or any other mental health disorder where suicide is a high risk , and the patient is in real pain. Diamorphine, Morphine, Dilauded etc should be a way to treat such a patient. Why physical pain is teated with narcotics, but emotional pain is treated with drugs that even the doctors themselves don't know how they work, or even if they work. Most don't.

Fuck the DEA. Just legalize drugs, and save lives, millions of millions of lives. Not only from suicide, but from violence, gang wars, drug wars etc. This I will never see in my lifetime. People have had the idea that all drugs are killers and that alcohol is okay to use in moderation. Crack, and alcohol are the drugs that cause people to become violent. At least we're getting somewhere with pot.

I just wish that someone would acknowledge that emotional pain is as bad as physical pain, and in many cases causes physical pain. Yet the DEA, keeps doctors from prescribing narcotic medications as needed. Doctors are afraid to get their licence pulled. I have a good doctor and he got his licence to write narcotic prescriptions pulled, because he knew how to teat people with real emotional pain.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Oh me, oh my!

Oh me, oh my, am I feeling better. I found a taxi cab driver who found me a heroin connection, and I got a doctor to write me out a script to Dilauded. I'm only using every other day, and as small amount as I can. I use just enough to take away the sadness. The H down here in Arizona is Mexican Black Tar, and its not cut to shit. It cost 90 USD for a gram. I almost shit my pants when I herd how cheap it was. Then I was sure it would be shit dope, but I used about .02 and it layed me on my ass. Right now I'm using up the H, because I'm leaving on Tuesday for Wisconsin, and I can't take the H with me. I can take the Dilauded with me, because its prescribed to me. I only got forty, four mg tablets of the Dilauded, but I also have ten .02 bags of shit H at home waiting for me...hopefully. I had my hook up hold it for me, and this person swears its still there and they didn't cut it and sell part of it. Which is what I would do if I didn't know the person so well. My connection knows me well, so hopefully this person won't screw me over.

I want to Thank Gledwood for making me laugh when I thought it was impossiable to even form a smile on my face. I want to thank Boomer too.

I am scared that when I get home and run out of dope, I'm going to be totally strung out again. The last thing I need. I can't go back to the Methadone clinic, my parents are so proud of me for being clean. Shit just thinking about this and writing it down make me need another fix, because it depresses me. I hate being honest with myself. If I do have a habbit when I get home, I'll just have to kick it. Kick it old school, cold turkey.  I will probably tell my shrink so he can prescribe me clonidine to help with the withdrawls.

I got to go and take a shower.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Its a long lonely journy from death to birth

A morning I'll never forget. I was in Michigan at my parents house with my boyfriend at the time Pete. We had driven up  to Michigan a day early, we were suppose to go to Michigan the next day with my sister Angie. I was dope sick and had to go up to Michigan where my dad had Oxycontin. So we left a day ahead of my sister.

The night before Angie was suppose to come to Michigan, while Pete and I had already driven up there, Angie had a beer party at house. She had just broken up with her boyfriend of five years. She was in a depression from the breakup.

The morning of the day Angie was suppose to drive to Michigan, there was a knock at the door at four am. I was up still high and nodding out. I open the door, and its the police. They asked to speak to Dean Young my father. I wondered and worried what did my dad do to get the police to come to our house at such an early hour. I went up stairs and woke up my dad and told him the police were there asking for him. Pete and I stayed up stairs because I was worried it was about me stealing his Oxycontin. My mom had gone down with my dad. I was in the hallway listening, but I couldn't hear much.

Suddenly I herd my mom scream, NO, NO, my babys dead. I knew right then Angie had died. I slide down the wall in shock. I came down stairs and saw my mom lying on the floor crying and screaming. The police where still there, and kept asking do you need us to keep you from hurting yourself, or your family to my dad. My dad was in shock. He got to go on the phone and had me call family memmbers telling them Angie was dead. She had died in a drunk driving accident.

My aunt and Uncle had decided to come and pick up my parents because they were too distraught to drive. Pete and I had to drive my car, and my parents car back to Wisconsin. I listened to the band Morphine the whole way home. I had just introduced her to the band Morphine a few days earlier when I drove her to get a tune up on her car. She liked the last song on the album. I cried and cried. I needed more Oxycontin to numb myself. In my parents dispare they were taking the Oxycontin as much as I was and they were giving me a hand full.

My dad had wanted Angie's room cleaned out because he didn't want to come home and know she was dead and have to look at her room empty forever. So pete did as best he could, but my aunt stopped us knowing we would want to go through her room. By the time we had got home the entire family and friends were there waiting for us to show up. They all brought food, and sympathy. I was in such shock and so high I just wanted to be alone, away from everyone except Pete and my parents. The only people who knew the pain we were in.

When my parents showed up I went into my room alone and got so high I couldn't even walk. I made Pete leave me alone. I asked why her, not me I want to die. She wanted life. She was productive, and I was lazy and useless. I kept imaging what she went through. Did she know she was dieing and did it feel so good she just went away? Did she feel pain? Every horriable thought went through my brain. I couldn't numb this pain all the way with opiates. I needed some control so I sliced my leg and bandaged it up to feel the pain, or some of the pain Angie felt.

I miss my little sister so much and just want to join her where ever she is. Along with my Papa Donald who killed himself, and my grandma who died of cancer, but really they oded her on morphine so she wouldn't suffer any more. I don't want to suffer any more, I want to be oded on diamorphine to make this pain go away.

Angie died at 19 years old. I was 20 years old. The year was 2003.

This was the last song I shared with Angie.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Hate myself more than you, what should I do.

I hate myself more than you hate me. They say people without jobs have lower self esteem. Well I do believe that to be true. Yet when I had a job, I would still go up and down in moods. I even attempted suicide while working. I started to mainline H when I had a job. Am I a statistic? Yes. When I say hate I mean HATE. I'm not even a good Heroin addict. I always loose connections. Unlike Gledwood who can keep a connection even after he quite using. I guess you just have to be in a big city. In Honolulu was the only place I had a regular connection. Other wise I doctor shopped.

The two things that I think about are killing myself, and using Heroin. Thinking about using makes me anxious, thinking of offing myself makes me feel peaceful. I did Gledwoods test on his blog and I scored a 51 severely depressed, and suicidal ideations. NO I'm not going to a doctor. All I want is a big shot of H, and a bottle of Ambien, and just fall asleep forever.

I have no friends. Aside from using friends, which we all know are not real friends. They are out to take your dope every chance they get. Some aren't above killing you for your money if you have alot, and they can get their hands on it after your dead. Thankfully my connections where not evil like that.

I think about my Hep C and I hope that it hurry up and kills me. Put me on diamorphine drip and kill me off that way. God, I would kiss that doctors feet if he hooked me up to diamorphine drip, and kept upping my dose until the inevitable happens.

I hate being sad, but when I'm in an even mood, I miss the comfort in being sad. Isn't that the most fucked up thing you've ever herd? When I'm in a manic mood, the world is at my feet. I love the manic episodes, but I'm more of depressive manic depressive.

If when I get home and make the decision to use those ten bags of H and use it to OD, I will post a goodbye post. With my luck I will again survive another attempt. I think of the people I hurt, and I had decided to do this even though my parents are alive and will be devastated. I'm selfish, self involved, vain, and not worth the air I breath.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Rape me

Please someone email me or comment. I'm so board, and in desperate need of dope. I know non of you can help me out in that area, but I just want to hear from you. I want my blackberry to ding with a new email or comment. My email is

I'm stuck in a small apartment with nothing to do but read and write. I'm too introspective to be alone. I smoke cigarette after cigarette. I journal about the most mundane things.

I'm watching the show Intervention, my drug porn. Why I do it when I don't have dope I don't know?

unwanted cleanliness

I'm still in Yuma Arizona, and I can't find any gear. One would think a border city to Mexico would be full of gear. I can't stop thinking about that bliss gear brings. My eyes are vacant, my body is sluggish, I'm unhappy. Normally I can spot a junky a mile away, but here there are pot heads. Gear users are usually whites between 25 and 35. I know that there are Purto Rican's who have good dope, but since I don't know the city that well, I have no clue where to look.

Yesterday I asked a cabbie to help me find some gear, but he called me back and said he would call me back when he had a chance. He was really busy last night, so I never got a call back. I ended up taking Clonazapam, over the counter sleep meds, and Ambien. Still I woke up at 3:30am and couldn't fall back asleep so I took another Ambien. I ended up having horrible dreams.

Suicide has been plaguing my mind as of late. The only reason I don't do it, is because I have more books in me, and I want to write them and see them in print. The books are shit, but I have words I want to write down. Although I feel wasted, as if I can't bring myself to set a plot, and create characters. If I loose my will to write I will finally do what I've threatened a million, no a trillion times. Fuck it, I just want to sleep eternaly, or go to heaven, or be reborn, whatever happens when you die.

Anyone from Yuma reading this should email me and tell me where I can get gear. That's Heroin to you who aren't in the loop.

Sorry my spell check isn't working. That's all she had to say.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Thats some shitty dope you got there.

I'm in San Diego California right now, we drove down from Yuma Arizona. What the fuck can I say? Its been a hell of a trip, and not in a good way. Its been cold, and rainy and in the fucking desert, come on.
One good thing did happen I got Dilauded off a doctor in the ER, but he only gave me 2mgs and only ten tablets. I ended up getting insulin syringes, which weren't long enough to slide into my scared veins. My fucking good veins are like leather to poke into.

I've been using Heroin on and off at home, but its shit heroin, cut like a whore who's john knifed her. It takes me at least for bags to get high, and those are .02 bags. They cost forty a piece. If I were to pick up a habit again I wouldn't be able to keep it up the shit around Green bay is so shitty. Sometimes its brown, sometimes its white.

I just want to get back to Green Bay where I have ten bags waiting for me...hopefully. I paid for the shit, it better be there. Unless when they went to Chicago it was 20 dollars a bag and then I only got five bags.

I'm stuck here until next Friday at least. With no dope. Its like hell on earth.

By the way I'm not lying this time to make my blog more interesting.