so things here at the ole blog are about to change. in all sorts of ways. new theme, new info on me. i’ve changed a lot since i’ve started this blog, and now its time to bring those changes here. it’ll probably be a week before i get a chance to get everything switched over due to my limited internet access. but i’m going to work on editing my info and everything in the mean time. i’m really excited about this you guys, and i hope you will be too.

♥ 1 — 5 months ago on 25 Apr 2014
Anonymous inquired:

Not a question... I hope you one day find your peace. I am watching as my boyfriend/best friend is going through addiction... and just searching for some help - for him, for me. Although I know it will ultimately be up to him to help hisself, I just hope one day something he sees or hears will let him feel the LOVE people have for him, and that he can also feel his own love within. Best of luck in your journey...

Wow, um anon, I… I needed this message more than you’ll ever realize. Yes, he will have to decide to finally help himself, but let me tell you something. If you continue to stand by his side and give him the encouragement and love you obviously have for him, and it will help spur him forward. Being reminded that you’re wanted and important despite being an addict is crucial. At least, it is for me, and I feel like many people would feel the same.

Thank you sweetheart, and best wishes to your boyfriend and to you.

♥ 2 — 5 months ago on 24 Apr 2014
#ask  #anon  
conasa inquired:

Are you a guy or a girl?

I have tits, so I assume that I’m a girl. But sometimes I think I’m a plant because people are not attracted to me.

♥ 4 — 5 months ago on 24 Apr 2014
❝ Opiates are especially manipulative, because you get outside of your consciousness. Fears you didn’t know you had, suddenly vanish. Though the experience of a drug is a romantic and nostalgic feeling, addiction is not. It’s ugly and selfish, because it is so bodily. It is both metaphorical and biological, it is hunger for emotion, and chemical alteration. It is almost impossible to explain to someone who has never done an opiate. ❞
♥ 162 — 7 months ago on 10 Mar 2014 — via thegoosie
♥ 292 — 7 months ago on 09 Mar 2014 — via 1-800-slut-my-fuck

  I never had thought that I would see the day; I never actually thought that there was an ending to it all. I figured that I was lost in infinity or stuck in purgatory somewhere between Heaven and Hell; wondering around aimlessly, roaming in the pitch black of nothingness. And on July 30th, 2013 my eyes opened up for the first time. How the hell did I wake up before I was dead? My friend, only God has the answer to that question.

            I am awake. It seems like I have been awake for so long; so, so long. It is day three now and I cannot concentrate on a single thing.  My mind; my mind is racing. What do I do next? Where can I go from here? The thoughts are choking me. I take a deep breath stare at the white computer screen in front of me and it is so bright right now. My eyes are so worn out from being up for days that it almost blinds to me look up once more, but I have to. “I have to get more. I absolutely have to get more.” I cannot even pay attention to the name on the screen because I cannot even focus on any of the lettering; it is all blurred together, at least it seems that way. It seems like the words are just black blurred smudges that are intertwining together to read something that is supposed understandable. “Damn it!” Why is it so hard to read the screen? Finally, I am able to concentrate long enough to hover the mouse over the top right of the screen so I can maximize whatever it is I am looking at. Maximizing the message covers up the whole screen. At least I can see a little bit but everything is so out of place. Suddenly the thought of technology and owning a computer right now is sickening to me. Even though I do not feel this way I say “I hate technology man, this is bullshit, and what good does this computer do me anyway? I am getting so upset with the whole deal that I almost throw the computer across the room, just to watch it shatter into a million pieces. Then the thought of why I am even on the computer in the first place comes back. I have completely forgotten. I frantically slide my finger back and forth on the touch pad so the computer turns back on and see exactly what I have been waiting to see. It is exactly two words.

“It’s done.”

I respond immediately.

“When and where?”

“Meet me at your house at noon.”

I sit back and think about what has just been said to me. I get so excited my heart starts beating and my hands start to shake a little bit. Suddenly, life has this new meaning to it and everything is so much better than it was two minutes ago. I have found something to finally look forward to, something that will guarantee my instant gratification; my happiness.

I had found drugs.

            Noon finally comes around. After pacing around the house for what seems like a whole twenty four hours, I start to get that feeling in my stomach again. Oh God, that feeling. It is not really a feeling that can be explained, but it consists of so many feelings happening at once. First, it is nervousness. Am I really going to be able to get high? What if this guy asks for my money and tells me has to go get it first? What if I get robbed? What if the drugs are not good enough? What If they decide to put a gun in my face and tell me to give up everything I have got? It always starts with these thoughts. Then, the excitement kicks in about everything that I am actually about to do. There is always that excitement consisting of everything that may, or may not happen. I picture it all happening in my head, going just the way I want it to go.

Getting in the car and riding out to wherever we are going, getting high on the way there, and getting high as soon as I get to wherever it is that I am going. The conversations we will have, the sights that I will see, the music that we will listen to. The intensity of the moments and what they will be like is an exhilarating thought. I will be able to capture them all in my mind and then they will forever be in my memory. The best part about it all is that I will be high the whole time. I mutter a little bit of what I am thinking accidentally, “be so damn high.” The thought of everything gets my heart racing again, my blood pulsating in my veins. My teeth start to chatter a little and I cannot help the smile that is forcing itself on my face.

Then in less than two seconds I am pissed off again. Where the hell is this guy? He should be here by now. What is he doing, getting high without me? I look at the clock and it is five minutes past noon. I tell myself that I need to calm down and try to sit on the couch. Sitting does not work because I am on the edge of my seat the whole time and my leg is frantically bouncing up and down. I am so anxious that I could run somewhere at full sprint, but I do not. I stay right where I am and wait. I think about how I am about to sin again and about how crazy my life is about to be, once again. I think about how the manic depression that kicks in afterwards is always the worst thing to go through. I think about how lost I am, once again. It feels so right though, you know? It just feels right. I sit and wait some more and I think some more, too. I just wait and think. That is all I can do.

            They arrive and this guy is blasting his music as he is pulling into my driveway. For a second, I just stare at the car he is in. I just stare at it. Not even knowing where my mind is or what I am even doing and I stay like that. I stay stuck. After a short period, I snap back to reality and take a look at the car once again. My phone is vibrating in my pocket and it will not stop. I figure it is him blowing up my phone telling me to get out there.  Anyway, I have no idea why I am about to get in this guy’s car. “Am I really about to get in this piece of shit?” This thing looks like it’s been caught on fire, beaten with a baseball bat, and barely recovered from all of the damage. It is all rusty and black at the bottom and I am pretty sure none of the wheels match. Three of the tires seem to be different sizes than the others and each one of them is equally as worn out as the one across from it. On top of it all, this guy’s music is pounding so loud the bass seems to be shaking the windows of my house. It is probably making my entire neighborhood stare right at my house. Even though I am securely in my house and out of view from the rest of the world, this makes me feel vulnerable in a nervous way. I feel so nervous suddenly. I feel scared. All of this is sudden and too much to handle and the thought latches on to my conscious like a parasite feeding off of my every subconscious thought. It feeds on my thoughts, so that it can mentally deteriorate me.

I’m starting to get lost inside myself again for the second time. I am slipping into the darkness of my negativity. It has not even been two minutes since he has pulled up and I am already Mr. Space cadet all over the place. I pull myself out of everything that seems to be going on, even though it is just me in my head, and skip to my next task. I frantically start searching around for something to put on and the only clothes I can find are the ones I have been wearing for three days, which are dirty and disgusting. They smell terrible. I go to take my pajamas off and realize that I have not stepped foot out of my pajamas in three days either. I am not even sure if that is right anyway. For all I know, it may have been four or five days by now. I have completely lost track of all time. I slip on my dirty hoodie and worn out jeans and then rush to the bathroom to put on deodorant and spray my clothes with some cologne that I have been wearing for two months straight. I actually ended up choking on the smell because I had to spray that much on me to get the stench to go away.

I am halfway out of the door now and I am so tired I feel like passing out as soon as I step outside. I feel so dead and zombie like. I feel like a corpse and that wave of disappointment in yourself as you slowly become the walking dead creeps into my soul. I get closer and closer to this random guy’s beat up piece of crap. In this moment I feel like everyone in town is staring at me, about to watch me hop into this drug dealer’s car. I feel like they are watching me, analyzing me, watching me succumb to the loser I always bow down to. I can feel their eyes stabbing me like knives and right now, it cuts so deep. It cuts me so, so deep. Even though it is not real, it is to me. To me, the whole town is right in front of my house, pointing their fingers at me and looking down on me. Although that is not how they feel about me, or maybe it is the way they feel about me. Either way, I think it is. And so what I think, my reality becomes.

I think about this as I am about to hop in the car. Before, I get in the car I start to notice the beautiful July sunlight and all of its loveliness. I take a brief moment and although I am feeling really dead and sick inside, the sun kind of brings me back to life for a moment. The sun always has a way of doing that to me- reviving me a little- and every time it seems to shine on me just what I need it to. I take this moment and bask in it. As my head is soaring in the clouds I hear, “Dude, what in the hell are you doing? Get in.”  I tell him, in a very distant voice, “Just hold on for a minute.” I feel the perfect breeze and let the outside world rejuvenate me. I suck in the wind through my nose and breathe in deeply for as long as I can. Then I let all of it escape out of my mouth, as naturally as possible, as I take in breathes slowly and calmly. I get lost in the ecstasy of oblivion and become one with the natural world. For a moment- I feel so together and I feel so loved by the world that sustains my existence and harbors my life. Then I hear, “Get in!” This disrupts everything so abruptly and suddenly the sun becomes a beam of death and it starts to feel toxic. I feel like it is beaming on me on purpose now and then comes the wave of nausea from having my head raised towards the sky. I feel like puking but I do not. I continue. I come out of it all and get in the car finally. I get that feeling. We pull out of my driveway and back out, driving right through the invisible people of my town that are supposed to be there. We drive off just like it was nothing because it wasn’t.

            I say the casual, “what ups?” and “what you been on?” and then introduce myself to my buddy’s drug dealer. I do not know why because I do not even want to be in his filthy car and I already feel like I do not like him, but I do anyway. I give my buddy the cash and then they tell me how high they already are and how it is really good stuff. “Got any left?” He says no and that is pretty much the conversation. They end it by turning the music back up to blast. While we are going to wherever we are going- I start thinking again, of course, because I am always in my head. I think of how I am degrading myself right now and about how I have these dirty clothes on. I want to jump out of them. When I am not high, I am a perfectionist about my hygiene and appearance. I have always been that way. I cannot really stomach the thought that I am sitting in three day old clothes right now. I am on loser-bum mode and it is gutting me inside. I question myself, like always, and start to wonder why I am even in this car in the first place. I am going on this journey, although I know exactly where it is going to lead me but yet, here I am. Here I go, leaving behind everything that I have worked towards. I am leaving behind every hope shot and all of my future dreams.

I feel like I left it all as soon as I walked out of that place that I call “home”, which is actually an empty house that I find myself in every few months when I cannot take it anymore at my mother’s house. My father’s insane sanctuary is what I should really call it. That house is a place for him to pass out at after being out all night at the bar. It is always very empty and dead-like. It feels so old inside and it has this one creepy room right across from the room that I slept in that always seemed to haunt me. It gives me the chills. Inside of it there is this miniature wooden box sized safe, it seems like, that is connected to the wall. You have to bend down on your knees and unhook the tiny, ancient lock with your pointer finger to get it open. It’s really, really, creepy and it looks like maybe someone chopped somebody up and placed all of their body parts inside the wall, which is where the safe looking thing is. I never go in that room.

 The floors of the house are wooden, well, most of them are and it gives the place that creepy wood-creaking sound at night. The house is actually haunted, as far as I am concerned. I have seen a cup fly off the countertop all by itself. I have seen the doorbell move on its own, which sounds odd but the doorbell is actually three hollow metal tubes that hit against each other softly whenever someone presses the doorbell button. It makes this annoying noise every time and I cannot stand it. It is really old school and, to me, puts more of a “creep” feeling into the house. Also, my neighbor and I have also witnessed weird voices in the basement, so I am not being paranoid about it all. I mean, I know I was a drug addict and I was paranoid at everything, but this was the real deal. Other people have actually witnessed the house being haunted, too. I know I am sounding over dramatic about it all, but you really do get the vibes of dead ghost when you walk in. So, it just sets an atmosphere of death, a drunken man, and ghosts. Even my friend, who lived there before me, told me about how the sinks used to turn on by themselves.

I remember one time when Taylor, the next door neighbor, told us about how her mom died and how she wanted to “contact her” in the afterlife. So, Taylor, Derak, and I decided to get a Quiji board and use it in my house. We called out her mother one night and I guess the cursor started moving on its own, but you can never really tell who is moving it or not. Anyway, that is supposed to mean that someone from the dead is talking back to you or trying to connect with you. So, I guess it was pretty creepy. I did not really believe it but then everything weird started happening in the house after that and that is when I started questioning everything and getting freaked out. Sometimes I could not even sleep at night because I swear there was someone pushing down on me while I was sleeping. It was terrible. I ended up throwing the board somewhere outside of the house and went searching for it a couple of years later. I never found it and creepy stuff continued to happen in that house, yet I would find myself back there every once in a while.

I am halfway to this guy’s house, I am guessing, when I realize we are out in the middle of nowhere. I get nervous again and we keep driving until we hit this long driveway that seems to lead up to a house. It is one of those driveways that is a mile long and takes forever to get to the end of it. The house is isolated by trees and cornfields. It is not a good looking house, nor is it a good looking driveway either. It is all gravel and half grassy in some spots and it leads up to this house that I am looking at that looks half run down. Sure, it is two stories high, but it has that look to it. By that, I mean that look when someone does not take care of their house, the lawn, or anything in or around the house for that matter. It pretty much looks like a drug dealer’s house. Plus, there is this huge metal garage about fifty yards out that looks like a safe house of all his drugs. I think about going in there.

 Anyway, we pull up to the house and my first thought is that I am about to get shot and robbed. I definitely do not trust the guy that I am here with, not to mention names, nonetheless the guy that I do not even know. But, it does not happen. I take a look around and observe my surroundings because this is something I always do. I also love to look up at the sky and be in amazement at how beautiful our planet really is. It is truly inspiring. I more or less jump out of the vehicle because of how nervous, or paranoid, or whatever I am. I am led inside and we sit down on the couch and I see a bunch of baby furniture and baby toys lying around and instantly I start judging this guy, like I am the one to look down on him for anything. I am getting ready to be doing drugs with him. Hypocritically, I do anyway. I classify this guy as a scum- bag loser, especially because he has a little kid and he is screwing around with drugs. This has always disgusted me the most. People I did drugs with always seemed to have a kid either around or somewhere at a babysitter’s house while they were getting high. It was truly sad, but what was I doing about it? Buying drugs from the damn people and doing it with them. I am basically supporting their pathetic lifestyles and with this I feel even more like a loser.

“Okay, now we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“I am waiting on the guy.”

Apparently, the guy we are buying drugs from has all of these errands to run beforehand so we have to wait an hour for him. I am getting pretty pissed so I speak up, “Dude, what the hell? I thought you already had it?” I am starting to get nervous and anxious at the same time. I know the scenario that I do not want to play out is about to happen and on top of that I am feigning. Hard.

“Here, I got this for you.”

He hands me a glass light bulb and a lighter.

I am about to put crystal methamphetamine into my body.

My mind starts racing. I crush the contents and spill them into the burnt up light bulb. All I can think about is that I am about to be high again. Finally, I am about to be high again.

My thoughts are racing and my foot is stomped on the pedal. So fast- everything is going so fast now. I flick on the lighter and the flame burns beneath my eyes. “C’mon.” I watch with intensity as the contents melt to the bottom. “C’mon. C’mon.” I watch it closely, so, so closely.

I am about to smoke meth.

All of the contents inside harden to the glass and the smoke starts to rise. I start sweating and clenching my teeth.
I am about to smoke meth.

I put the flame to the bottom of the bulb and leave it there, burning under the chemicals and creating more smoke. The fumes rise into my mouth and burn as they rush inside me. I blow everything out for what seems like a whole sixty seconds.

“O-h-h-h-h- m-y-y-y- g-o-d”

My pupils dilate. My blood pumps ferociously. My heart starts pounding in my chest. Eyes dancing around the room like I am searching for particles in the air- my senses are heightened. The glass falls from my hands and crashes onto the end table and I fall back in to the couch- breath taken and limp.

I am paralyzed in a state of bliss-high on crystal methamphetamine.

I have no idea what to do with myself next, so I sit up and I talk. I talk and I do not stop talking. I ramble on about nothing sometimes not even making sense. My jaw locks and my eyes are open wide and they dart, sporadically from place to place. My palms are really sweaty and I cannot stop stabbing the tips of my fingers into the center of my palm, half clenching a fist every time I do it. I am high and the world no longer exists to me- I’m somewhere out of my mind.

Only I and this crystal meth exist. 

Then, everything just disappears and I fall out of control. I have just entered auto pilot and I do not know which gear I am stuck on.

Over the course of the next three days, I had spent every minute of it in a paranoid and overdosed haze. I should have been in the hospital, but I was not. I ended up smoking so much meth that I lost control and went haywire- basically, I lost my mind. I overdosed and panicked. Those two guys dropped me off at my house and I ran around town like a crazy man trying to get away from people who were “trying to kill me in my own house.”  Somehow I ended up at my friend’s house. I used to live with him and his family. His mother, who had never seen me in a state like that, decided she had to look up somewhere for me to go to rehab at. I, in my own paranoid world, could not have cared less at the time. I think I spent that whole three days stuck in crazy mode and thought the world was out to get me, so I stayed on the couch for three days and basically slept while she called my parents and found a local NA meeting that I could attend. I was driven to my mother’s house and went to the NA meeting that night. I was so out of my mind that I thought the people there were out to get me too. So, I lost it and left. I ended up going back the very next day once I ate some food, got more sleep, and sobered up a little bit. They welcomed me back with loving and caring hearts and showed me their way of sober living, a way that I had never been introduced to and never thought could have worked for me because nothing worked for me. I was so desperate. I had never really gotten into meth before, but after going on that three, four, or however many day binge I was terrified. I had never been that strung out before. I had never been so out of touch with myself before, and never felt so dead inside like I did for those three days. It scared the hell out of me how much I started to like doing meth, so I felt like I had no other choice. I was at the bottom and my body could not take anymore. Five long years and I decided to finally cash out. I threw in my chips. My body screamed for help and my mind pleaded for sanity. My life was heading nowhere and I lost everything I had gained sober. All of my family hated me and only put up with me because they felt sorry for me. My friends wanted nothing to do with me and I had lost my job, once again. I was on my way to the grave and I was running out of tricks to avoid my destination. I had to give in to their program and so I did. I did and I learned how to live. I learned how to be a human being for once in my life. For the first time in five years, I was finally able to come out of my version of purgatory and live on this earth with the rest of the human race. God had saved me from my downfall and I am forever grateful, in my heart. I truly had to give God everything that I had because I could not do it on my own anymore. I did not know how. That was the best decision I have ever made and it is only by God’s mercy that I am able to be writing this to you. Today, I am alive and I smile when I am happy.

I am a survivor.


♥ 13 — 7 months ago on 08 Mar 2014

Holy shit you guys! I just got on this page for the first time in a while and I can’t believe the response my blog received! I will do my best to start answering your questions and posting your submissions!

You guys have really outdone yourselves! I’ve gained a lot of new followers since I last got on here and I’m really going to try to be more active! I’m hoping I’ll be moving soon to somewhere with unlimited wifi (a girl can dream) so hopefully I can really get into this.

Well let me get to it! I can’t wait to see what all I have waiting on me!

7 months ago on 07 Mar 2014
Entry Seven

I always told myself that meth was the one drug I would never try. I felt like that was crossing some imaginary line, as if “I may have done this, but I’ve never done meth” is a feasible argument. But last weekend, I tried meth for the first time. And I discovered something about it: I like it to much.

I’m a firm believer in that drugs affect people differently. And to me, meth treats me very similarly to how Opana did. Of course, there are some big differences. Opana use to pump me up for about an hour and a half before knocking me straight on my ass. Meth just pumps me up. And of course the meth lasts longer, though I’m sure some of that is due to the fact I snorted Opana and smoked the meth. But the way the meth makes me feel is the same way I felt during my pumped up period with Opana. I even have played some Rock Band after smoking because that was my favorite past time while using the big O. I haven’t really been able to play since I quit abusing Opana because it would just remind me about what I was missing. Plus, it doesn’t feel right playing Rock Band sober. My mind and body aren’t use to it.

So I’ve decided meth is one of my newest and biggest enemies. I like it to much, and it does to many things for me in the short term. I just discovered that a friend of mine has picked up the habit again, and we’ve smoked together twice. Tonight was the second night. This was a conscious decision because I don’t have to work for the next two days, and I really need to get some cleaning done around here. So I’ll be able to clean until tomorrow and turn in early tomorrow night.

This is a scary situation for me, and I realize that I’m putting myself in a position to create another addiction. But I’m hoping that the controlled times of receiving it will keep me from turning to meth. Plus, I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look for meth here (my friend is from several towns over and that’s where he gets it).

So let me continue my cleaning spell. Gotta get shit done.

P.S. I think you can tell I’m kind of tweaking by this entry. It seems very sporadic to me.

♥ 5 — 11 months ago on 11 Nov 2013
❝ Quite simply, it makes me feel okay to be me. Here is how I feel not on drugs: I hate me. If anyone has been in love with me for real, I don’t know about it. All I can remember is goodbyes. Sometimes someone will be standing in front of me, and already I feel him walking away. It’s only a matter of time, so what’s the point? I have no sense of presence, mine or anyone else’s. But on drugs, I could feel that moment, I could be something besides nostalgic for things that haven’t even happened yet. I could live here now. ❞
Elizabeth Wurtzel (via saltybruise)
♥ 83 — 1 year ago on 01 Oct 2013 — via saltybruise
#q it up  
♥ 57 — 1 year ago on 30 Sep 2013 — via howdoyourambledeeze
#q it up