So aside from defending myself for making money on a book, and gaining weight. I still wear a size six.
Yesterday, my councilor didn't call back. She was off yesterday. Thanks a lot Jamie. I'm waiting for her call right now. She's in a meeting. This is all about getting back into the methadone clinic. I know the Methadone clinic isn't an answer to all my prayers, but it is a way out of active heroin addiction. Better than the Suboxone was. I used to not take my suboxone and take my dad's pills and get high. Not as high as H, but a little buzz.
I guess from now on I can't write about what I need to write about, because all my fucking family thinks they are some kind of saviors, oh I should work on another book. Fuck I already have two different books finished. I'm too lazy to send them out to publishers. They suck, and no publisher would ever take them. I know this. Why does everyone in my family who reads this shit have to make phone calls to my parents, go on and on about how fucked up Anna is. I guess I'm just entertainment to everyone. I understand that from the readers I don't know, but from family.