Saturday, May 21, 2011

I'm high as fuck, and I have to go out with my good friend to a bar, because she just broke up with her boyfriend. I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't go with her. There is no way I can drink on top of the H I took right before she got here. I also took four two mg xanax.

I stuck to my guns on the name of my book. Just the photo I'm putting on the back of the book. I can't keep my eyes open to write anymore.

Friday, May 20, 2011

I want to be a Harlem Globe trotter and get paid in candy, but life doesn't work like that.

I went to see my shrink today, so I couldn't have my morning shot. I don't want to get physically addicted again, so I'm trying to use every 48 hours. Its not working out that way though. I had a poke as soon as I got home. My Doctor put me on Welbutrin(spelling error) along with my Lexapro to stave off this depression I'm in when I'm not nodding out. I went to get the pills filled and my insurance company wouldn't pay for it without pre authorization. So the pharmacy is going to call me when my shrink authorizes the Welbutrin. I tried to get my Adderal filled, but apparently its too early in the month to get them filled. I'm out early because I gave some to a friend's brother.

My publisher wants to change the name of my book, "I Hate Myself and Want to Die", so I'm suppose to be thinking of names. I pretty stuck on I hate myself and want to die. They think it will scare people off. Plus my cover of a girl hanging herself is too graphic. I love that picture. The publisher is mocking up some covers for me to choose from, and giving me hints on what they want me to name the book. A Life Upside Down, is what my coordinator has suggested. FUCK that I hate that title as much as I hate myself. I'm going to stick to my guns on the title I want to name it what the fuck I want to name it. I've been reading the book over and over, I have the damn thing memorized by now, and I think I swear too much in it. Mainly in the first part. Also I wrote the book like poor me, my life is so fucked up and I can't save myself. In the end we all have to save ourselves. People who buy the book( I hope all of you reading) will think I'm a big whiner. Have I ever whined on here? I don't think so. I don't remember all my posts. So I might just be a big whiner, or a big wiener.

Gledwood, I have turned over the cushions, but still they are going to notice the burns in the carpet. I laughed at that comment, like I wouldn't have the common sense to turn them over. LOL! I love you. HMU BTW! HMU means hit me up. Like email me.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

I'm a filthy whore and I want you to fuck me

I am bored
I'd rather live in squalor
Sitting in my own filth
Collection of all my wealth
Your the only one
My favorite open sore
Come on, help me score
living outside your door
I'm a helpless whore
Beat me down onto the floor
Make me a patient
Leave me battered and bloody
Lick my wounds
Watch my moods
I burn as hot as the sun
I don't care I'm just done

I know it sucks, but I was high when I wrote it. I haven't written a new poem in over six months. I read that Adderal decrease creativity. No wonder I haven't written anything creative in over six months. No wonder this poem sucks. I found a good Hunter S. Thomson book, Screwjack. If I don't take another shot today I might actually get through the first chapter.

Blanket acne'd with cigarette burns

I got some heroin. I drove down to Chicago last night. I left at six didn't get home until around midnight. I am broke now, but I have enough heroin to last me until my parents come home, that is if I don't over do it. I also have food stamps, but I won't have cigarettes, which really sucks. There is a bunch of quarters in this big jar of change we have, I think I might be able to get a few packs with quarters, and assorted other change.

I'm going to be in trouble when my parents come home, I've been smoking in the house, and have cigarette burns in everything. At least five in their leather couch. All my clothes have burns in them. I got about three on the floor next to the couch. I keep nodding out with fucking cigarettes. I always tell myself I'm going to smoke outside, but then I get high, and all my good intentions fly out the window.

I'm going to shower today. Yesterday's post was rather graphic about gross stuff. Ah I wouldn't be me if I didn't share everything about my life with all of you. My stat counter says only one person has read that post. Less than 50% of people who come across my blog read for more than 5secs. If you google Anna Grace Young my blog pops up, so anyone who Googles Anna Grace Young clicks on my blog, and are like fuck this bitch is crazy, I'm not even gonna stick around. Then there's the people who don't even take a look they just accidentally clicked on my blog. You know whats really fucked up, my blogs title says I hate my face, but I have tons of photos of my face. Can you say condriction.

I can't keep my eyes open to finish this blog.

Good blog, but not updated often is http://www.heroinjunkie.blogspot.com/, I think I got it right, I have to go check again.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Getting hooked on heroin

My mood has shrunk down, and now I wish I was strangled in utero by my mothers umbilical cord. I called all my sources in Green Bay for Heroin, and no one is holding. At least I'm not sick. Fuck I'd rather be dead that have to live this fucking useless life. I hate being your fucking entertainment. Still I write this fucking blog. I love the comfort in being sad. I know where I am, how things are going to feel, if only I could sleep. I have been taking Ambien at all times of the day, but it doesn't put me head down. It actually makes me more anxious. I could take being sad if it weren't for the anxiety. Waiting on call backs from dealers, Christ that makes me so fucking anxious, I have no finger nails left from biting them to the cuticles waiting on dealers.

I was so happy yesterday, and then I wake up this morning, (yes I can sleep at night) and my hands are shaking from anxiety. My nose is runny, I keep yawning, my eyes are watering. Its as if I'm making myself dope sick. Just mild shit, diarrhea, but I expect that from using. I was constipated for 10 fucking years. Not having opiates to rely on when I'm sad is truly a pathetic sight. I don't shower, my crotch stinks. My armpits stink. My hair is all greasy. My underwear have streaks in them from not taking time to wipe good. My anus bleeds when I take a shit. I think its still torn from having anal sex four years ago. Then being constipated on top of that for 10 years, I probably have hemorrhoids. Fuck what am I talking about.

I would go back to the Methadone clinic, but I'm losing weight so fast off of it, I don't want to be fat ever again. I'm down to 160lbs, don't know how many stones that is, but its a lot better than the 215lbs that I was. I have no money for new clothes, so I just wear this white dress all the time, and its too big on me, so my boobs fall out all the time. My bras are too big on me, so its pointless to put one on. At least my boobs don't sag, I was so worried about that with loosing this weight.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Clean

I'm clean as a whistle. No drugs since Sunday. I don't even know why I used on Sunday because I wasn't sick anymore. I'm not sick now. In fact I'm happy. This could because of my mood disorder, but it could also be because I am just happy. I'm not really going to get into my mood here.

Even though I'm happy and without drugs, doesn't mean I'm still not craving them. I'm having using dreams at night and when I take a nap. Always with a huge syringe and needle, and black tar Heroin. Always in my left arm where I used to have a gusher. Its long since dried up, but in my dreams it still gushes. I've also been biting my tongue a lot. I have no idea what that is about. Maybe I just have a huge tongue.

I missed reading Gledwood's blog, but I went through and caught up on his blog. IF you want to read it click here Gledwood's blog. Gledwood's been cleaning his house. Thank the fucking lord. He's also back on antiphyscotic meds. I just wish that me and Gledwood could be happy at the same time, get our shit together and meet already. Life is short, and I'm getting old. I'm almost 30 years old. I want to meet him before I turn 30. I want to at least visit London before I'm 30. Depends on how many copies of my book are sold. As soon as its out I will have a link on my blog for those of you few who want to read it. Wouldn't it be nice if Gledwood and I could both be writers, and do it for a living. That's a rhetorical question geared at me.

My life has been very boring lately. All I've done is clean. The house is spotless now, and I have nothing better to do than update my blog, and chain smoke cigarettes. Which I'm going to go do right now.

Who knows maybe I'll get some dope tonight. Why? I'm happy. Jesus Christ this drug has such a pull over me.
Karma Police

Friday, May 13, 2011

Durg induce mania

The sky is moody today. I'm in withdrawals, sick as a dog I am. Although my mood is elevated. I feel like I'm in a manic episode. This morning I played Radiohead KidA really loud. Bothering the other tenets in the building. I've never had a sick manic episode. I keep repeating words over and over, along with sentence fragments. Not able to get all of the sentence out. I'm moody just like the sky. I'm sick, but not so sick that I'm on the phone with every possible source of Heroin or Dilauded. I'm not Dr. shopping. In whole I'm not doing what I usually do when I'm sick.

I have all these weird thoughts flying at me. Like I wonder how fish gills work? Did fish always have gills? Whats the difference between fish and paint thinner? They both smell bad. Was I born with a sixth toe and my parents just didn't tell me? Would Radiohead not wear underwear on the road? This is all coming at me at once. Then I feel the need to move. Not just legs jerking like usual when I'm sick, but wanting to dance, and scream. My dog thinks I'm going insane. Maybe I am. Maybe this is a drug induced mania. I'm thinking it probably is. I've been without any opiates for two days now. Tomorrow I get more, but why when I feel this good mentally?

I'm sorry Gledwood for not commenting on your blog, and I see you didn't blog yesterday either. I was in no mood to do anything yesterday. In fact I took a razor blade to my wrists, but I woke up this morning with blood all over my silk sheets, and I was still alive. Maybe I'm just glad to be alive, and that's why I feel so good while sick. I don't want to just sit in bed all day with sickness, I want to be productive. Its like my body is wanting to do one thing, and my mind is wanting to do another. I'm going to do the laundry. Fuck YES! That's what I'm going to do. Fuck drugs. They suck. Keeping me nullified. What a fucking bunch of shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I think I'm going to go hide in a closet with no light and just let my mind keep me entertained for the rest of the day...after I do laundry.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Book editor lies to me

So I'm totally out of Heroin now. I used up my last shot a few hours ago. Right now I'm sure I can go cold turkey, get all this shit out of my system. Yet I know as soon as I wake up tomorrow I'll be counting the hours until my Methadone clinic appointment is. I do have some Methadone that I bought on the black market, but its not going to last me very long. If I could just ween myself off that way I'd be fine.

I really don't want to go back on Methadone. Same with Suboxone. Come on for the first time in years I want to be truly clean. Most who read this blog, know I never have wanted to be totally clean before. I've always envisioned using on the side. It turns out I can't just keep a chip, I'm either full blown strung out, or I'm on Methadone and or Suboxone.

As far as my mood, I can't really tell you what my true mood is, because I'm high. This morning when I woke up before a poke, I was depressed. My usual depressed self. I cry because of anything, even when high. I'm going to be having a tough time coming up in the next few days, and I'm scared. Thank God, I don't have to put on a brave face for anyone. For Eleanor I have to be somewhat active. I have to take her outside every morning to go potty.

The editor emailed me today, and said I'm very honoured to have edited a book by such a young talented woman such as yourself. I scoffed, thanks for lying. I read the book, I fucking wrote the book. I know I have bad grammar. I know I'm definitely not a young talented woman.

I wish Gledwood would comment on my blog. I miss him, its been two days since I've opened my laptop. I was ungodly high for two full days. Got to go, I just got an email. Perhaps its Gledwood.

How to disappear completely

Today the sky is gray, and threatening. I can hear thunder rolling in the distance. Its the perfect weather for the mood I'm in. I only have two shots left, and I'll probably use it in one shot to get high. My tolerance has shot up which sux. I'm lonely here all by myself, and poor Eleanor is lonely for my parents. I'm so sick of daytime TV. I can't bring myself to shower. I haven't anyone to shower for. Why fucking bother? I'll save a shower for when I feel complete shit, and the only thing that will make me feel the least bit better is a shower. I can tell my period is coming because I'm broken out with three pimples. Although since I've been on a heroin binge for the past two or three weeks I might not get my period this month.

I'm suppose to go to the Methadone clinic on Thursday, but I don't really want to. I really want to kick the habit cold turkey. I'm broke so there is no way I can get anything, which is really the perfect time to kick the habit. Plus I haven't been using more than a month, so it should be rather easy for me to kick it.

The house needs to be cleaned, but I can't bring myself to do that either. I'm so fucking lazy, and I feel so fucking pathetic. I have to go to the post office today, but I don't want to leave the house. Yesterday I never walked out the front door.

I'm out of Adderal because I sold it to a friend who needed it, and without speed I'm super lazy. Plus its going to make kicking a lot harder. Having speed when I'm withdrawing keeps dopamine in my brain. Switch on addiction for the other. I might call my doctor and say I lost my pills, and see if he'll fill them early. Although I highly doubt as I just got them filled last week. There are other pills of mine that I need refilled, but I'm too lazy to go to the pharmacy to get them filled.

My friend owes me 200 dollars, Which I need to live off of for the next two weeks. I hope my friend pays me back asap. Although if I have that 200 bucks I might go out and spend it on dope.

I wish that Gledwood and I lived closer. He's my best friend and I relate to him more than any other person in the whole wide world. Its not fair that he lives over 3,000 miles away. I hope he's in a better mood than I am today.

This post is so fucking dull. I'm so fucking dull. I wish someone would just put a gun to my head, and pain the walls with my blood.

The condom is the glass slipper of our generation.

As always this song is for Gledwood, and everyone else who want to disappear completely

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Junky diet

Today I go in to Weight Watchers and get weighed in. I think I lost about three pounds. Which would put me down to under 170lbs. I need to buy new clothes, because all my clothes are too big on me. Plus I need summer clothes. I don't have any money to spare this month, so I can't buy any clothes. I also have to mail my dad's pills down to him. So I have to get to the post office before noon, when they close. I'll be glad when those pills are out of my sight. They just seem to call my name. Even though I have dope right now, I want to rely on those pills when I run out.

On Thursday I go to the Methadone clinic. I won't be going to the one in Green Bay, but the one in Appelton WI. The clinic in Green Bay wouldn't let me back in unless I completed a 90 day in patient treatment. I hope nothing happens to me before Thursday. I'm scared that I'll end up in jail again. God help me.

I know I was miserable on Methadone for those four or five years I was on it, but this time I'm not going above 30mgs. I might go sick for a while, but my body will get used to only 30mgs of Methadone. I'm also worried about gaining weight back. With Weight Watchers, I've changed my eating habits. I also work out now days.  As soon as I get on the Methadone I'm going to go back to water aerobics. I still walk on the treadmill three to four times a week. Plus I walk Eleanor(my dog) every day. Some days for a couple of hours. So I've made lifestyle changes, which should keep me loosing the weight. I must admit the junky diet works really well. I loose weight a lot faster when I go sick.

I'm embarrassed that I wrote that sex scene yesterday. Ah, who cares. I'm sure if some guy reads it he'll get a little excitement out of it. Like Brucey, Valaire's husband. I guess he reads it on the toilet, and when he was done the key board was all sticky. Hmm, wonder what he did while reading it?

I think Eleanor is depressed. She misses my dad. So I've got to go, and smoke a cigarette.

Friday, May 6, 2011

I wanna fuck you like an animal.

I'm in a great mood today, as I'm high. Although Eleanor(my dog) has something wrong with her ears. She keeps shaking her head. I'm afraid she has ear mites. She could have gotten them from the mouse I think I've seen scurring around after Eleanor goes to bed. Today I gave her a flea bath in case its fleas. I'm going to go to Petco and buy some ear mite medicine just in case its ear mites. See I'm pretty productive when I'm high. Not when I'm loaded, but when I do just enough to catch a good buzz. Its like a glow, my body feels great, my mind feels great.

Today I have to vacuum, wash the floors, run the dishwasher, do some laundry. Then my friend is coming over and we are going to the bar. I won't drink because why drink when I already feel great. Drinking just makes me depressed. The other day when I was waiting on dope, I drank Vodka mixed with Crystal light lemonade. I ended up so depressed. I don't know how Gledwood can drink without getting even more depressed.

OH yes, when I was on the phone with my friend Kaycee I told her that I was clean. Well, it turns out she reads my blog, and knew I was bullshitting her whenever I talked about sobriety. Sorry Kaycee. I'm just embarrassed to be a drug addict, and your doing so well. When will I ever get my shit together?

Gledwood is in a very bad way right now, and I ask those of you who pray that you keep him in your prayers. Otherwise just send him good wishes.

So my book has been edited, and this is what they told me. "your book was written more like a screen play, so we had to do a content editing instead of just line editing." I guess I used too much dialogue, also my sentence structure was terrible. Which they tried to put in a nice way, but it was a nice way of saying you suck at writing, and we had to do a shit ton of editing. I must say they didn't change the book drastically, but they did fix my writing drastically. I never did proof read my book before editing, I figured that was their job, but with my next book I'm for sure going to do proof reading, and by a book on sentence structure to make sure my sentences are structured correctly. If I were not high right now, I'd be more down on myself about this. Right now being high I feel like I can learn to be a better writer. I've already finished my second novel/manuscript called teenage angst. I'll post a tid bit for you guys in my next post.

Both my parents are in Arizona again. So its just me and Eleanor(my dog) here in Wisconsin. I emailed Jess(a guy I used to sleep with and was obsessed with for a few months last summer) and asked him to come over and give it to me hard. So next Wednesday we are going to fuck. I can't wait, I've lost nearly 45lbs. He hasn't seen me since I lost the weight. My boobs are smaller, but so is my ass. Hopefully he'll be turned on. When he gets here I'm going to be just sitting around naked with my dildo out. As soon as he gets in the door, I'm going to undress him, and get down on my knees and suck his cock. I'm going to suck his cock until he's just about ready to cum, then I'm going to make him watch me masturbate until I cum. After that I'm going to lay him down in my bed, and get on top of him and his hard cock, and I'm going to ride him reverse cowgirl style. Gently play with his balls. I'll ride him slowly letting my pussy come right up to the tip of his cock, almost all the way out, then I'll come down on him slowly, but hard. All the while I'll be playing with his balls, and my nipples. I'm going to go just a little bit faster, then I'm going to take his cock out of my pussy, and suck on it again. Then right before he cums I'm going to get into doggy style position so he can put his cock in me hard, and fuck me hard and fast until he cums. When he pulls out I'll quickly turn over and let him cum on my tits. I love to see a man cum. Then feel the warm cum on my tits.

I wanna fuck you like an animal. As all songs I pick this one is for Gledwood.

I love writing about that. My libido is pretty low right now, but I still need some cock. I'm too high right now to be able to cum, but if I weren't I would be fingering my clit, and using my dildo. My pussy does get wet just thinking about Jess coming over. Of course I'll be thinking of someone else while I'm fucking him. Someone I don't know what he looks like, but I do have enough info to make it possible for my mind to form a picture.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Watch a suicide live. Viewer discretion is strongly advised

Graphic content. A man shoots himself at a press conference in front of cameras. His name is Bud Dwyer.

My freind Kaycee, and a song for Gledwood

Last night I got a call from my oldest friend. We've been best friends since third grade. We spent every waking minute together. We were so close, nothing could separate us. Our personalities are very similar. We both have too much empathy for our fellow human beings. We put ourselves last. Kaycee is her name, and she is and always has been very popular. Even though I was her best friend I wasn't popular. Ha, imagine that.

Kaycee and I stuck by each others side until High school started. I started popping pills, drinking, chasing any kind of high to make me feel better about myself. Kaycee always held a place in her heart for me, and saw I was going down the wrong path. She tried to save me a million times, but I wouldn't listen.

Today Kaycee lives in Milwaukee, has a great job, a great rich husband, a beautiful home, she's an aunt, and her sister has another baby on the way. I know she's a great aunt, as she is great with kids. Unlike myself. Don't get me wrong I love babies, but when they get into the two's I get fed up with them. I still love them though. Kaycee is the greatest person in the world, as far as I'm concerned. She doesn't let her wealth change her, She's smart as a whip. Makes me laugh whenever I talk to her.

Kaycee is the same age as me. She has a career, a husband that adores her, money, she goes on vacations all the time, she has a nice car. I should be jealous of her, but I'm not. She deserves everything she's got.

I've had me a poke this morning, as my connection came through. My mood has been enhanced by a chemical. I wonder if I hadn't acquired this addiction if I would be as successful as Kaycee? Where would my life have gone?

Even when me and Kaycee were super close, I had thoughts of suicide. Being the least popular person in our group was hard. Being ugly, stupid, lazy, and always saying the wrong thing makes a person hate themselves. This was always my burden. Kaycee kept me alive when I was sure I was going to kill myself. I never made an attempt on my life until Kaycee and I parted ways in high school. Not until addiction took over my life.

I have to go now. Important things going on. Such as me having a poke.

I'll leave you with a song I find fits me very well. As always I dedicate it to Gledwood

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Your like a sore on the roof of my mouth that won't heal because I can't stop tounging it.

That's not a bad thing Gledwood. It just means I can't forget about you. Even when I try to go as high as possible or as low as possible. This song is about loosing your mind.
For everyone who has ever lost their mind. Myself and Gledwood included.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Suicide: I hate myself and want to die

Not much new today. I'm depressed even after a poke. I started watching a movie about a writer who gains literary success for his first book, but the rest of his books are flops, and he ends up killing himself. So typical. I could see that ending coming a mile away. I gave up on Television and started reading Wild Boys by Burroughs again. Wild Boys isn't my favorite book, but its better than whats on TV. Every half hour I start to cry. I'm going to Chicago in a few hours, and I don't know if I can make the voyage. Plus the contact down there hasn't called me back to tell me if things are ready. I'm buying a rather large amount. 200 dollars worth. Almost two grams. I've been thinking of offing myself with this batch. It calms me down to think about the idea of killing myself. It makes me anxious to know I don't have the guts.

I need to shower, but can't bring myself to do so. I hate getting wet. Then having to let my hair dry. Perhaps I'll have another poke, and things will seem better. I use the word seem, because in reality things are shit, but with a chemical enhancement things seem less shitty. 

I keep putting my head in my hands. When I sigh I then inhale I can smell my own scent. I'm not so dirty as to stink. I just smell what my dog smells on me, a lot less intense though.

Let me go through my suicide fantasy. First my dad leaves for Arizona on Thursday. I'm left alone with Eleanor. I put out enough food for Eleanor until a week from Friday. I clean the whole house meticulously. I get really high on Friday night. I stay up 24 hours. I write my note, leaving behind my last request along with the songs I want played at my funeral.  All Elliott Smith songs. I feel they are soft, depressing songs, great for a funeral. I put out two pee pee pads for Eleanor so she has a place to go potty while I lie on floor dead. At noon on Friday I take an overdose of Clonazepam, Ambien, and Heroin, plus Methadone, I die an half hour to an hour later. Poor Eleanor doesn't understand what's going on. She probably lays by my cold body.  After a few days of my parents calling they call the police to check on me. My body is found, and I'm starting to decompose. Perhaps Eleanor has eaten parts of me. My parents come back to plan my funeral, Eleanor has someone to take care of her. (I thought about killing Eleanor with me, but I think that's even more selfish than killing myself)

Don't worry, I'm not going to do it.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Stealing your father's pain pills. How low will you go?

First things first, he didn't notice. *sigh* Second, I'm going to Chicago tomorrow for more dope. *sigh*
Third, Osama Bin Landen is dead. *uh, oh well* My dad made me look at the picture of Bin Laden shot in the head. Once he had me look up be headings, and we found one. I watched the damn thing. I thought they would cut his head off with a sword in one fell swoop, but nope the took a knife, and it took time. You could hear him trying to scream even though his throat was cut. I still have a hard time thinking about that. Okay enough of the macabre.

I still have some H left over from the g that I bought, but soon it will be gone, and I thought I'd stock up.

Now I just have to worry about my dad getting sick, or having back pains. I bought some vicoden from a friend and put it in the Tylenol for him. If his back is hurting and he needs something extra he always goes for the Tylenol. Hopefully that will work. I just got enough for him until his pills come this week. He leaves before they get here, which means he's going to have to go two to three days without any opiates.

I was so worried about this pill thing, that all I did today was lay in bed with my dog. I have silk sheets that I bought, and a nice down comforter that I bought, and its really comfortable. I only did a small shot of dope today, and I can feel that I'm already getting sick.

I woke up this morning with the shakes. I don't think it was withdrawal shakes, I think it was nerves. I put off fixing until around noon, and I layed in my bed just wondering what my dad was going to do when he noticed. Then around 5, about an hour ago, I decided I needed to make plans for more dope. So I texted so and so. They said tomorrow, I said okay. I'm excited to see what kind I get. Brown or white? Who knows maybe black tar. I doubt it. I had been listening for my dad to do his pills all day, at 5:30 I went over to a friends house to pick up so and so's money to bring down to Chicago with me tomorrow so I can get so and so some dope. When I got home I looked at my dad's pill box and it was full, and he didn't say a word. I don't know what to do with myself now. I'm still worried. I feel like scum for this.

I also called the Methadone clinic today, and they can't get me in until the 18th and that's not even for sure. My ex councilor said they may not even take me back on because of my mental health problems. How can they not take me because I have such severe mental health issues? Isn't that against the fucking law. I want help to stop, or I know I'll die, but now the Methadone clinic has to put my case through a review. I could have screamed.

So that's the low down.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Nodding out while giving a blowjob

Well, last night was a bad night. But today was a good day so far. Probably my last good day for a long time.

I'll start with last night, as you know I got some Methadone to hold me over for hopefully two days. As Methadone has a long half life. Methadone peaks about three hours after you take it. So I didn't want to waste the wellness Methadone brought me, so I stayed awake until 3am, and dreaded getting up figuring I was going to be sick. At six am my phone rings, I was sound asleep, but I woke up and looked to see who was calling. I didn't plan on answering it, but it was a name I knew might be a lead in the search for Heroin. So I answer the phone all groggy. The person on the other line says, your going to owe me for this one. I said,"what are you talking about"? This person says I got a gram of H for 120 dollars. I said, "yeah, but its probably cut to shit". This person says, "no I've used some of it, and its good shit".  I say to this person, "I'm on my way over".

I leave the house at quarter to seven in the morning, and drive thirty minutes to this person's house. When I walk in this person has their works laying all over. I asked how much of the gram do you have left? This person tells me they had two grams, and is willing to sell me the left over gram for 130 dollars. I can even fix there, and decided if its good enough to buy. So I fix up, and god granted my wish, its good dope. I buy up my gram, and go home. At home I bang up .04gs and get loaded. I started this post at about 9am and its 2pm now. I keep nodding off, and having to delete a bunch of zzzzzzzzzzzxvccccccccccccccc;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; bullshit.

Now tomorrow is the day I dread. I can't get as high as I am today and stay in my room with the computer and write and nod, I have to come out of my room and act normal. Which will be easy with a small shot of H. Tomorrow is the day my dad fills his pill box. Not even being this high makes the worry go away about tomorrow. Not just tomorrow. If he doesn't notice tomorrow, he'll notice when he starts to go sick. If he can just go without noticing until the 6th when he's almost a thousand miles away from me, then I'll be okay. Until then the stress of this is killing me. I'm never bothering with my dad's pills ever  again. Hopefully by the time my parents come back I'll be on Methadone once again.

Now I ask you to pray that my dad takes mercy upon me. If I was in his position I would go ballistic, and want to kill my kid. That and the disappointment of knowing my child relapsed after a good amount of clean time. I'm disappointed in myself, I don't need anyone else to be disappointed in me.  Those of you who hate me, I'm going to get mine. I wouldn't put past getting whipped by the belt. A 28 year old women gets whipped by the belt of her father. I feel like Frances Farmer. Either that or he'll scream at me, and call me junky whore. That he can't stand the sight of me. I have a plan to have my cousin come pick me up. So I'm not in his sight all day.