Saturday, April 27, 2013

The end of my pain forever

Hey there old friends, enemies, and the rest of you fuckers I hate so much. (If you think I am aiming this at you...I am.) I'm back for a moment to put my past behind me. I've been stuck in the wonder years for too many years. As a dog barks outside my window, and the afternoon sun pours into my bedroom as sit at my antique desk, typing away on my MacBook Air where old and new collide to make right now. Right now is where I am.
I'm sitting in my pink desk chair, wearing my Hemingway replica glasses, for the corrective lens over the left eye, and just a clear non prescription lens over my right eye. Showing I am officially old, and boring. Although the Un natural hair dye, and the hard to find t-shirts, with a black hooded sweat jacket with the Pixies band name scrawled across front and is only made known that it is a band  hooded sweat jacket when I zip it up to over my breasts, do the few people who notice me in a crowd, or even alone walking down an old country road in the pouring rain, and lightning storm, that I am wearing a black hood sweat jacket sipped up past my tits because I have a wet, white t-shirt shirt on underneath, and no bra. 9 out of 10 people who do see the word "Pixies" in large white lettering on the front of the hooded sweat jacket do not know it's an advertisement for an early 1990s new wave band. Most just think I like tinker bell and/or am a big fan of pretty pictures, and statues of beautiful women who have wings, and pastel purple hair, an eyes. Really I don't give a fuck if anyone notices me, or my clothing. I need to get my bangs cut again so I can hide my eyes behind both my hair and my glasses.
Maintenance stopped blogging for a number of reasons, mainly I've outgrown the title of this blog. Even though I am still on Methadone Maintenance Treatment, I am not strung out. I still hate my face, but I couldn't care less about this place. No matter what "place" I'm in I will hate it. I know this because I am an isolator. I isolate myself, as long as I have my blanky, my books, my laptop, iPhone, mainly for the iPod feature, and my Eleanor Rigby I can hole myself up. Of course I am a neat freak, and like to keep organized, so I would do a lot of cleaning. When I wrote that just now, in my mind I saw my room being filmed through a Movie Camera, not just a video camera but a movie camera. As the camera pans in to my office area. My laptop is open, and my iPhone is connected to a bluetooth speaker playing Elliott Smith, Leonard Cohen, and early Bright eyes. Then the camera pulls back and shows my empty pink chair, and the computer screen is on Microsoft Word, and there is an open page with a few words, and the camera movies in and the words come into focus. The documents reads,"I am so sorry. God forgive me, for I know not what I do Love Anna Grace Young the rest of the document is blank, except for the cursor still blinking. Just then Leonard Cohen's song Dress Rehearsal Rag start to play, and the camera is now on my bed close up, starting from the bottom, wear you can see my old fashioned bed, with my old fashioned floral sheets, and my white down comforter. The first part of the body lying in the bed is feet with hot pink ankle socks on over white tights, and up to just above the knee you see the frills of a red baby-doll dress, and up to the waste, you can see one arm is hanging off the bed, and there is blood smeared on the pristine white down comforter, and up to the neck where the collar is buttoned all the way to the top, and above is the pretty bow.
 like a little girl dress buttoned up all the way, and you see my face pale and bluish, my eyes open but unblinking, and the camera pans out to show pools of blood, one on the floor , and one on the other side of my body down by my hips, and my palm is facing up, and you can see three long vertical slices from my wrist to the inner elbow, on the floor in the pool of blood is an exacto knife, one of the sharpest blades I know. Unlike a straight blade razor, an exacto knife has a very sharp pointed tip, and the razor is slanted, ideal for cutting intricate things that can't be torn, or with a scissors because it's just too small. The exacto knife is like a scalpel, but with a sharp pointed tip.

With the exacto knife you don't have to apply pressure the entire length of the cut, as you would with a straight edge razor. With the exacto knife you poke or rather make a quick stab, and make sure its deep, then just pull the razor up the wrist, to the underbelly of the forearm, lot the inner elbow. It's much less painful to make such deep long incisions on the wrist and under arm. Also unlike the razor as you pull it up your arm and tear the flesh, and rip the veins, and ligaments, tendons,            the exacto knife make a nicekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

From today forth, this blog is not logger a blog to rehash my "glory days" as a heroin user, or to make the fact that I threw away my late teens, and all my 20s on heroin seem cool. I'm anything but cool. Just the fact that I even once thought that was cool, proves I am dumb as shit. What do I have to show for my life at age 30? Nothing more than some scared up track marks, bad veins, a methadone addiction, and 50 extra pounds of fat. Oh, I can't forget the teeth rotting in the back, and a cavity on my right front tooth. Lucky for me it's still small, and not brown, just like a chip off my tooth, except its up by my gums. No credit, no sex drive, no want, or need for a romantic relationship with anyone, male or female. No need for even a basic friendship. No, I have my methadone dose, which keeps me comfortably shielded from those pesky emotions, and the inability to make any new emotional attachments to anyone or anything that I didn't have before I became completely and utterly ravaged by opiate and then opioid addiction.

From today forth is the beginning of the end. The end of me, who I was at the end of my life, who I never will be. All promises I'll make, but never keep. To remind myself, the universe wastes nothing. Well, it wasted its time putting me together as a human being. I'm damaged bad at best.

May I make a toast? Let's all raise our drinks and toast the end of my pain forever. 

6 comments:

Dawn McCoy said...

Anna Grace. You remind me of my daughter so much. Only she has kids, ( well 1 kid, i have the two older girls), so more to live for. And, she's more brain dead. 6 years of heroin, 7 years of MMT...swiss cheese brain. Tortured soul. I wish for you peace. I don't think you are a waste. Dawn. I don't leave anonymous comments. I am so not a troll.

Anonymous said...

So, I don't quite understand why you're being so hard on yourself. There are people out there dying on the streets, starving, etc. You have a MacBook Air, an IPhone and a place to sleep.. You're already doing better than 99% of the world. You also have a talent which you should use to your advantage, instead of wallowing in self-pity.

Everyone has a past and everyone is fighting a battle.. Some are just more obvious than others. Don't be niave in thinking other people don't have walk-in closets filled with skeletons.. Because they do. Telling your story and letting your feelings flow in a blog is admirable.

Personally, I don't know if I believe everything you write - but does that invalidate your feelings? No.. So keep it up. Regardless if I believe it or not, I've found myself reading it the past few days and your writing is entertaining.

I think you just need to accept who and what you are. You do care about being noticed - that's why your blog is public. You do care about what you wear - that's why you described it. You do care about friendship - because everyone does, it's natural. If you think you're fat - stop eating shit and work out.
Just accept that... You seem to be your own worst enemy.

After reading a few entries I thought "god, this girl is awful".. But then I started to see you as a girl that has clearly just lost her sense of self. I think we all have some thoughts and feelings similar to what you write about, however yours are just on a much larger level.

Anyways, this is probably boring and drawn out, and I don't wanna sound like I'm patronising or lecturing you... I just hope you get over this and start telling more exciting stories about your past..and I hope you have a better future

Good luck finding yourself


-Princess of Nottingham

Jennifer Moore said...

You are not a waste. I'm sorry you believe that. If you want someone to talk to email me at ibjennyjenny@yahoo.com. I'm a good listener.

Maureen said...

Anna, Dawn and anon & Jenny are 100% correct! YOU are not a waste.
Anna, I broke my pen for my phone & they are Fed Xing it to me by Wednesday. YOU can always call me. I know I'm older like your Mom ( i am older than ur Mom & Dad) but I have been where you are, and am allot like you, or visa versa. I need to get off my laptop, don't want to go over my GB's for the month. Email me or call me. PLEASE. Don't do anything STUPID, PLEASE call me.
Blessings
Love,
Maureen
P.S. I am older but have been in your shoes for a long, long time now, so I do understand more than you will ever know. T.T.Y.S.

Gledwood said...

Never say never.

Come back soon.

I WILL MISS YOU XX ☺ XXXXX

Anonymous said...

Anna if only you knew how interesting you are, I understand feeling so hollow and empty without the label "addict" I know, but that's not all you are you are just starting to know yourself, you are someone apart from the addiction