Sunday, July 17, 2011

Love Buzz for suicide

How do you know a junkie is lying? Their mouths are moving, or their fingers as it is. Honestly, my life is dull, I wait for my dealer, I get high, I scrounge up money to get high, call my dealer, get high, repeat endlessly.

The only thing interesting is my mood swings. I was in a up swing for about two weeks. Hence all the lies. Now I'm down. So fucking down. I took the hand gun out of my dad's room and put it in my room, with one bullet. The thing is you have to have pressure on the back handle of gun to get the trigger to pull. How the hell am I going to manage that. My hands will be contoured in such an awkward way. I suppose if I were to use a shot gun my hands would be contorted in an awkward way.

From now on I vow to be honest. Except the bits I have to hide from family. Who the fuck am I kidding my family knows what I'm doing. If I didn't tell you guys about the gun then maybe I would really do it. Now my family knows, and soon the gun will be hidden away. Like I can't find it, come we live in a rather small apartment. If you scroll all the way down to the bottom of my blog you can see my bedroom.

Yesterday I was riding my bike, and I saw this man skateboarding, he had pink hair, and I was instantly smitten. I pulled him over and took a photo on my phone of him. He was eating an apple. I wish I would have asked if he had money so we could get high, but heroin is such a touchy subject. You never know who is totally against trying the one "too hard drug" and who isn't. At least I should have asked if he wanted to hang out. Gledwood should die his hair pink. You here me Gleds. The man that I truly love, and wish I were closer to.  He has me locked in his manget tar pit trap.

I love to shoot guns. They make me feel powerful.. My dad takes me to the shooting range and I go berserk. As beserk as the rules will let me go. I unload onto that target, missing it mostly. Bad aim, actually I don't aim at all. I pray the gun will back fire and kill me in the process.

I could shoot myself in the mouth with the gun pointed upward toward the brain, like Bud Dwyer did in his suicide video. It would be easy to push the back of the gun handle to pull the trigger.

I would use pills, but all I have access to is 120 oxycodone, 90 clonazepam, 30 ambien. The Oxycodone are big pills likely to make me vomit, 90 clonazepam and 30 ambien god I take that on a daily basis, plus Oxycodone is an opiate which I have a high tolerance to. I've looked up how to make Cyndie on the Internet, but I'm no chemist, and to get all the chemicals is a bitch. Then there is carbon dioxide poisoning, but we have an underground garage shared with 100's of people, it would take a week to fill the garage with carbon dioxide, plus someone would notice me before I died. I would just have a bad head ache. Yet, I have found an internet video where a guy buys a canaster of co2 and puts a mask on and turns the co2 on full blast and he's dead in minutes, if not seconds. Then their is the helium which they say is painless. I should buy one of those clowns that you fill balloons with and just suck on that nozzle until I'm gone.

Daddy's little a girl ani't a girl no more.

Can you feel my love buzz? CAN YOU FEEL MY LOVE BUZZ?

Wait only the good die you. I'm no good. I'll live to ripe old age suffering from life. I hate this plane of existence! I'm debating on waiting until I get my royalty check and using it all to buy Heroin and offing myself one big shot. If only I could find a vein. By then my vein that's blocked by missing too many times will be clear. I've been skin popping lately. It sucks. I want that rush. That God like feeling. God is in a gauncho. gauncho is the Spanish way to say needle. I call it a gauncho because I like it better. I don't know if I'm spelling it right.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

needle in spanish is aguja
gancho means hook

Gledwood said...

suicide is a lonely horrible business the more desperate i used to feel the more convinced i was doomed to failure i became... in the end this feeling overtook me that i was in some way immortal and would end up lying alive in the cold and the rain on the railway line as trains rushed over me... i was pretty depressed when i had this idea, then i read in the book "manic depressive insanity and paranoia" which is thee classic textbook on bipolar and depression that it's not that uncommon to be deeply depressed and deluded either that you're dead already or somehow immortal

i know a couple of people who have gone out thinking it was daytime in the middle of the night they were so depressed the darkness matched their reality, i suppose...

Anonymous said...

Depressed and oblivious to everything except your own emotions. The only thing that you need is the desire to help someone other then youeself.
I want to hear something other then gun fire. Something that reaches down into my soul and tells me... she's right. she has been right all along.