I want to be annihilated completely, I want reciprocal forgetting, I want the angels not to recognize me.

Posts tagged “drug

Pale Angel

The pale angel, whispering and angular, is at the center of a fragmented dream world. His vocal poetry is haunting and lithe – winding light around his stairstep-spine. Call him “Beautiful One.” Call him “Best Friend.” Call him “You-Take-My-Breath-Away.” The only instrument he requires is freedom, the type that moves with dissonant waves – all lyricism and vigor, like a breakdown made for dreamers. But, I don’t think he saw me. I don’t think he noticed my desperation for something real, for someone to touch my ribcage-elbows-collarbone and affirm my existence. Can I help but to want to be danced upside down, to spin around like youthful romance, to jump and be okay? I look into my bathroom mirror, striped down bare and ready to take my shower. It’s 3:00am but I have nowhere to be tomorrow, or the next day or the next. 

xXx

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hospitalized

On my 21st birthday, i found myself in Carrier Clinic, a mental hospital, miles and miles from home – and alone, deserted both by Evan, my best friend and Steve, my boyfriend. Evan is the reason i was hospitalized in the first place. He wrongfully accused me of planning to hex him and those he loved and of being on drugs. Only one of these things is true and he seemed more concerned with the one that is not. From then on he wanted nothing to do with me, so naturally i shouted “I’m gonna fucking kill myself”, drove away to Walgreens and downed 150 Tylenol and 100 OTC sleeping pills. They eventually found me and brought the police but i ran like hell until i was handcuffed and held to the ground. Now i am truly and predictably alone with myself and my mind. I just got discharged today but while i was there i found myself aloof and disturbing, I had the most colorful flashback drug dreams about heroin and all i want to do now that i am back home is use but my parents took away my credit card and now i have no money. They also plan on periodically drug testing me which, albeit, isn’t the end of the world. It not going to stop me at least.

I feel sick tonight – the quality of night. The darkness seems to seep into my pores and turn me into one of the monsters that hides so cunningly in it. It’s cold out tonight too. I was just out smoking a cigarette and my dark yard seemed intimidating, I will have no more goodnight calls from Steve and i will never have the warm comfort of knowing Evan will be there to talk to. I have no hobbies and I’m not particularly good at anything. I fear that I will be alone forever. All my comforts have been stripped from me and my emotional state of mind is the equivalent of a cardboard box in the rain.

Being Bipolar and Borderline sucks.

xXx


remember to feel real…

So far, in the past two days i have snorted three (soon to be four) bags of heroin, took a hit of weed out of a one-hitter bottle, smoked weed in a pipe and drank a bottle of Angry Orchard (Apple cider-like beer). The heroin has been wonderful. I can’t even being to imagine life without it, This is my new drug of choice. My birthday is coming up – Friday October 4th, and I’m getting four more bags. The only problem is that I won’t be able to drink a lot or even at all because mixing alcohol and dope is probably the worst idea ever, It leads to blackouts and blackouts, for me, lead to the hospital. My good friend Rachael will be with me though and she’ll be able to watch me also her cousin Sean and my friends Brielle and Analis will be there. I hope to god i get to see Evan too (i don’t care about seeing Steve, my boyfriend because first of all he is a prude and won’t like me drinking/doesn’t know I do drugs and secondly he is antisocial and will want me all to himself – personally Id rather be with friends).

Evan is a curious character too. He would be so mad at me if he found out i was doing heroin. He doesn’t even want to be around me when i’m high on weed. He was around yesterday – a saw it on a facebook status but he didn’t answer my calls or texts! I don’t know why though. Does he think I’m really such a mess? I’m seeing him today after his TSA interview. I just hope he doesn’t notice because I’m totally finding a single bathroom and snorting a line after this class. I haven’t felt this in control in a while.

I binged a little yesterday. I was totally in control all day and all i ate was a small plate of vegetable tempura when suddenly at night (I blame the weed) i went crazy. I had half a chocolate bar, a bunch of sour cream and onion special K crackers, popcorn and a few spoonfuls of ice cream. Considering the calorie total of the day is pretty high for me, it’s not the end of the world and i didn’t gain any weight. I just have to try harder today. Harder so that i can lose what is it now? 33 more pounds and attain perfection.

I think I’m becoming manic again….

xXx


i’m a mess

i like to think that no one knows what i am but i can’t hide forever. i want to be a teacher eventually – i think. it could just be the line i’ve been fed for so long that i believe its what i actually want. whatever. it’s not like i can ever even be that – one look at my medical records and i’d be fucked. the hospitalizations, the rehab, the (prescribed) drugs alone – it paints a picture of sickness that i can’t ever escape. i can’t ever escape it because it’s true. i am a mess.

i lost my boyfriend, the good boy that loved me once. i’m not sure if he does anymore – i don’t even know if he still thinks about me. he won’t answer my calls but the last thing he said to me was that if i finished rehab then we would be able to talk about “the possibility of getting back together.” but who knows, it’s probably a ploy to give me hope so i don’t kill myself on the spot. he probably thinks that me going to rehab will fix me and my dark thoughts but it wont. ill make sure of that. i have it all planned. as soon as we talk and it goes south, as it probably will – that’s it. i’m done.

i’d like to have hope but i just don’t. i’m going to rehab to check it off the list. i still smoke cigarettes but i have been clean since i ODed two or three weeks ago. i want to say i almost died, but i don’t think i did. i just lost my boyfriend and scared everyone. but next time won’t be a fuck up. the next time i go for suicide – i’m not going to fail. i’m sick of failures. it needs to be perfect, and it will be. gah i wish i had some acid and a locked colorful room for the rest of my life. i don’t want to go on without escape and i don’t think i can. someone at rehab is bound to have connections, they always do. if there is a time to do drugs its now, while steve is out of my life. now is the time. there is no salvation but there is escapism and that’s all i can go on for now.

i can’t even put into words how much i despise myself. i am worse than an addict, bipolar, ocd, rape-victim, eating disordered individual who probably has daddy issues. i am a girl who hurts literally everything in her path. i want to change that, but i fear it’s too late for me. one last desperate act will seal the deal and show the world the ugly little child i am and always have been. i just need a way out of this mess i call my life. i need to get out.

xXx


oh hey lithium

Now lithium is added to my cocktail of drugs. So basically Seroquel 4x a day, 3 cymbaltas of whatever dose, 500mgs of depakote (used to be a 1000mg but i was literally a zombie) and now lithium 3x a day.

“how the fuck do you remember all this?” the bf asks

well, my dear, it is simple. when i don’t take this or that whatever – either everyone yells at me (you included of course) or i get “padded-wall quiet-room psycho” as you so lovingly call it. But mostly, i am constantly reminded to “not forget to take (insert drug here)”

i don’t think i have had a conversation with my mom or therapist without hearing “did you take your meds?” or “don’t forget…blah blah blah.”

god. i’m so numb. luckily i used to feel enough so that i can act the part. oh happy. oh joy. oh pain. oh whatever. im usually just empty and try to fill the void with as many people telling me “i care about you” or “i love you” as possible.

but my void is endless and people’s time is not. so what. repeat it. i love you. i love you. i love you. i will never get tired of hearing it. never. i remember what it was like to actually feel it, love, that is, and it was great. it was real.

today, the girl who stands in front of you is fake, dead, and well, bordering on sociopathic in her manipulations.

 

dear world,

i’m sorry.