That's what I am here. Tonight I hung out with an old friend who almost died in a terrible car wreck. He's taking heroin now for his pain, because he runs out of his fentanyl shortly after getting it filled every month. He shot me up. It felt nice, but now I'm worried that my mom will notice my track marks.
I was considering going to Celebrate Recovery, but they also preach that homosexuality is a sin and addiction that can be cured, and I am not so sure. This place is so backwards and fucked up. No wonder all of my friends (the only people who want to hang out with me and aren't Bible-thumpers) are strung the fuck out. How could you not be?
I have a strong feeling I won't be going back to California. I wish I could, but unless Andrew finds a place--which isn't looking promising--I just don't see how it can happen.
Fuck it. I'll be dead someday soon anyway. I guess it doesn't really matter that much if I stay clean or not. I'd rather be on drugs than be miserable in this place.
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About Me
- ben
- i've been in a semi-nomadic state since the turn of the century, but i can generally be found in georgia or california. i like making up songs and playing with kitties. if you want to see how much i've changed over the years, feel free to visit my old journal from 2001-2008 at monkeeshyne.livejournal.com
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