21Mar12

I’m feeling extremely anxious tonight. No reason. I’m alone, sitting at my kitchen table, picking through ashtrays to find left over clips of cigarettes to smoke. My legs are going crazy. I’m having the creepy crawly feeling in them again. They’re restless. Gnawing at the little stubs I have left that I call finger nails. Rubbing my nose with my pointer finger. As I always do when I’m having cravings. It’s a little quirky thing I do when I want to use. Whenever I used, I’ve always preferred snorting my pills rather than taking them orally. I’d get higher a lot faster. And I enjoyed the feeling. I used to eat up so much percocet and klonopin that my nose would bleed. It’s a scary thing. Thinking about how easily it would be to just say “fuck it,” and go back to how things were. I could very easily numb myself up, and float on throughout the rest of my days to get through. I would love to say that I haven’t used since I took it upon myself to control my problem. But it’s not true. The last time I used was a couple of weeks ago. In a desperate attempt to calm myself down, and shut my brain up. It wasn’t successful, because I didn’t get high. Haven’t touched anything before that since my birthday weekend.

For my birthday, I decided to “go hard, or go home.” I was with the drug addicts I call friends, and we were at midnight bowling. One of my friends was selling bombs (ecstasy) and my other girlfriend was rolling balls, so I thought, hey, why not for one last hoorah? I wound up taking three pills that night, because they were shitty, and weren’t kicking in. We were driving around town at about 2 am and my friend just handed me a blunt. So I took a couple of hits and BAM. I was out of my mind. It was almost instantaneous that they all hit me at once. (I get nervous even writing/thinking about this scenario.) I’ve never fully rolled before, and have never taken more than 2 pills previously in my entire life. So I was having a major anxiety attack. I had to tell my brain to relax, because there was no getting out of this trip. So I could either bug for the next 8 hours or just ride it out. So I rode it out. I was tripping so hard. Gnawing at the straws we picked up at 7-11 beforehand. My gums were bleeding, but I Couldn’t. Stop. Chewing. We drove around for the next few hours, blasting dubstep. Bassnectar was literally taking over my brain. All I remember in the car ride, was the bass shaking my soul, and floating through a green, purple, and black circular vortex. It all sounds “cool”, and sure in the moment in was fucking fantastic. We got back to my house, and I had stopped hallucinating, but was still rolling pretty hard. My jaw was killing me, so I stopped chewing, and just rubbed my fuzzy, purple blanket for the next few hours. I remember, I hadn’t looked at myself that whole nice since I took the pills. So when I went into the bathroom, I checked my appearance in the mirror. I was horrified. I looked dead. My pupils filled my whole eyes. My jaw still wouldn’t stop chewing. I was never so scared of my own reflection in my entire life. My trip lasted till about 10 am. And then bam. It was over. I was sober. And I went to sleep. Woke up a couple of hours later, to a dreadful birthday dinner with my dad, his girlfriend, and my siblings. I wanted to puke, and sleep for the next four days.

That was a powerful enough trip, that I never want to experience it. Ever Again. I don’t understand how my friends do that every weekend. The problem with ecstasy in general is that is totally robs your brain of all of the serotonin. It leaves you with nothing afterwards. And for me, that’s a bad idea. Every time I’ve ever taken it, I’ve wanted to kill myself afterwards. But this last time I did it, was the worst. I literally felt as if I would never feel happiness again. And I’m pretty sure, I kept myself locked in my room for the next couple of days, fighting off the post-e depression.

I guess I ranted about that, to remind myself how badly drugs negatively affect my life. And how incredibly insane I become when I’m on them. Whether it be weed, pills, or harder shit. And no matter how badly I’d love to break out a few lines right now, I won’t. Because I’m better than that. I’ve come way too far, So. I’m going to search for cigarettes, and go get lost in a book for a couple of hours till I pass out. I’m heading out to Barnes and Noble today with my step-dad to buy some new books. (Not that I don’t have about 10 that I have to read still….I’m addicted. What can I say?) My problem is, that I have so many fucking books I want to read. So many books, but so little time. ::Sigh::

As overly detailed as this post is, (and possibly depressing) I’ve been great. I feel great, well, beside the little onset of anxiety prior to writing my stresses out.. I’m going to bed earlier. (5am, as opposed to 7.) My darling mother bought me this probiotic, Florastor, to help with my tummy troubles. And finally, I can eat when I wake up. I’m not nauseous. And as expensive as these pills are, they’re incredible! I feel so much more energized, now that I’m sleeping and waking up earlier. I’m also strangely happy….With a few anger outbursts here and there. But, it’s all becoming more and more manageable. Which is fantastic in my book!

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