deepest and darkest
im sick.
i have a problem.
but i dont know what it is.
i wish i could be diagnosed so i could know how i should feel.
its okay jordan. youre an addict.
or, its fine, youre just a social user.
or, hey-somethings wrong here-youre a junkie.
because i have no idea what to call myself. what box i belong in. and its wierd because all your life you are raised to "think outside the box". but i always have (please indicate race; check one box only) and now i need to be put in one to help me help me.
when cameo wants to use im right there with her. my reasoning is that if shes going to throw herself down a hole, then as her bff i will fling myself down to be with her. but, shes fighting heroin-esque withdrawls. where she feels like a 600lb. woman stuck in her slim 22 year old body. thats the only way to describe the weight that withdrawls are putting on her. and because she feels a need to use to keep suffering from detox at bay, i let it be an excuse for me to shoot up.
its sick. i think ive done it 4 times now. and yesterday was actually an oxy 80 not a blue. so, now ive shot two things.
it gets sicker. i almost died tuesday night in a strange house, in a strange part of town, with people i dont usually play with, and i dont even remember. but it doesnt scare me out of doing it again-obviously. that bridge has been crossed.
shouldnt i be afraid? shouldnt that have shaken me vincible? put the fear of god and the preciousness of life in me? no. all i know is that, while i cant remember most of the night (started off pounding shots of rum at russels and concluded with three people trying to revive me in a bathtub), this amazing euphoric angel was with me all night making me feel otherworldly. i remember that i felt good.
i realized that i really could have died. but it would have been sooo easy! to just slip away, high, quiet, unnoticed. thats the way id like to go. and maybe for my next suicide attempt i will. if i dont bite it then, at least itll have felt good getting there. and if i do-i wont know. prolly float around in purgatory in a dumb bliss for a bit. but, i could have died. had someone not seen my lips-bluer than usual...thats a scary thought. but it only makes me wish i actually remember shooting that night. but i was too drunk.
whatever. anyway. im not afraid of death. and i like this new way of putting drugs into my body. a sick part of me hopes that cameo doesnt ever kick this shit. so i can keep on keeping on. id never do it without her. but rational-me says that im getting wicked broke right now and i cant afford 15 a pill. its awesome that two or three times were freebies. shhhh...im not sure how i lucked into that.
so what the fuck is wrong with me?! i know something is because my story is not that of an okay person. my mini-od is like the scars i used to wear when i cut myself: comfortable on me, keeps me warm. im not an addict because i dont have to have something or anything every day (i spent wednesday to saturday at home). i dont have withdrawls from anything. or urges to do anything. i just like...really like drugs.
oy.