i want to run away. super bad. i think i might do that. maybe go up to indiana and stay with ashley for a while. my parents will freak, but whatever. i'm 36 years old. i hate AA so much. i'm not an alcoholic. i'm just... i dunno, bored.
that's me in the corner. that's me in the spot light, losing my religion.
i feel like i'm going to lose my religion. both proverbially and literally.
oh yeah, that was the next song on my playlist.
i want drugs. or a change.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
Smalltown Boy
Dear Paul,
I'm going to try to be as honest as possible.
I finally found a few crumbs of weed to smoke. I played that song you told me about and finally cried like a baby. I feel a little better, even though I can't stop crying. I've been trying to figure out how to kill myself ever since I woke up, but I'm scared that I'll just suffer even more if I do. If I were a sadistic god attempting to design a perfect hell, this would be it. At least with the lake of fire you would probably just get used to burning. I guess at least in this reality we have "hope". I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, as obviously many others have questioned historically.
There we go. I stopped crying. Now my body just hurts again.
The last thing my mother said to me was that I should kill myself. Well, technically she said, "If that's what you want to do, then do it."
With the intent of being absolutely truthful, I just checked my phone to make sure I didn't have any missed texts from her. Nope. I sent her a message about an hour ago to ask her if she would withdraw $200 from my account (she's my payee for SSDI) and leave it downstairs so I can buy a new tire and leave tomorrow. Many times in the past when they've kicked me out or we've gotten in fights, she refuses to give me any of my money. She tells me she's going to call Social Security and tell them I'll have to find someone else to be my payee, which would mean that I wouldn't have access to my money for a while (who knows how long it would take). I have no reason to believe she won't pull that card this time. Although once when they kicked me out, she would leave $20 of my money under their doormat if I needed it.
Anyway, now Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" is playing. As if. I wish I could relax. I wish I could go to Hollywood. I would love to have vegan cupcakes. It's been too long.
Fuck. That song was getting on my nerves. Then I spent a long time lost in memories remembering the music I was listening to the time I had to literally run away from home after I escaped through my bedroom window when my dad had kicked down my door and had a shotgun at the end of my bed. I think he was originally going to kill me but then he said he was going to kill himself. I don't remember. It's a blur. I just remember running down the road to my aunt's house, barefoot, freaking out. She took me to my sister's house to stay, and I think she brought up the gay thing, thinking that was the cause of all the problems, and when I used the word "fuck" she tried to tell me I was possessed by demons. I was like 16. Actually, she told me the same thing last year, but this time in a much nicer way.
I'm getting tired of typing. I'm listening to Tori Amos. I'm pretty sure I was listening to her that night when I was crying myself to sleep. Definitely Merman. Also the last instrumental track on one of Sarah McLachlan's album.
Let me get to the point without telling you my life story (well, at least my new point that I just came up with):
*welp, I never finished writing this, but I'll publish it anyway---wrote it originally sometime before I went to rehab*
I'm going to try to be as honest as possible.
I finally found a few crumbs of weed to smoke. I played that song you told me about and finally cried like a baby. I feel a little better, even though I can't stop crying. I've been trying to figure out how to kill myself ever since I woke up, but I'm scared that I'll just suffer even more if I do. If I were a sadistic god attempting to design a perfect hell, this would be it. At least with the lake of fire you would probably just get used to burning. I guess at least in this reality we have "hope". I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, as obviously many others have questioned historically.
There we go. I stopped crying. Now my body just hurts again.
The last thing my mother said to me was that I should kill myself. Well, technically she said, "If that's what you want to do, then do it."
With the intent of being absolutely truthful, I just checked my phone to make sure I didn't have any missed texts from her. Nope. I sent her a message about an hour ago to ask her if she would withdraw $200 from my account (she's my payee for SSDI) and leave it downstairs so I can buy a new tire and leave tomorrow. Many times in the past when they've kicked me out or we've gotten in fights, she refuses to give me any of my money. She tells me she's going to call Social Security and tell them I'll have to find someone else to be my payee, which would mean that I wouldn't have access to my money for a while (who knows how long it would take). I have no reason to believe she won't pull that card this time. Although once when they kicked me out, she would leave $20 of my money under their doormat if I needed it.
Anyway, now Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" is playing. As if. I wish I could relax. I wish I could go to Hollywood. I would love to have vegan cupcakes. It's been too long.
Fuck. That song was getting on my nerves. Then I spent a long time lost in memories remembering the music I was listening to the time I had to literally run away from home after I escaped through my bedroom window when my dad had kicked down my door and had a shotgun at the end of my bed. I think he was originally going to kill me but then he said he was going to kill himself. I don't remember. It's a blur. I just remember running down the road to my aunt's house, barefoot, freaking out. She took me to my sister's house to stay, and I think she brought up the gay thing, thinking that was the cause of all the problems, and when I used the word "fuck" she tried to tell me I was possessed by demons. I was like 16. Actually, she told me the same thing last year, but this time in a much nicer way.
I'm getting tired of typing. I'm listening to Tori Amos. I'm pretty sure I was listening to her that night when I was crying myself to sleep. Definitely Merman. Also the last instrumental track on one of Sarah McLachlan's album.
Let me get to the point without telling you my life story (well, at least my new point that I just came up with):
*welp, I never finished writing this, but I'll publish it anyway---wrote it originally sometime before I went to rehab*
offline
1/20/2019 10:45am
Well, I moved into the recovery house. So far it's okay. Sundays are super boring though because there's nothing to do.
Oh yeah, I relapsed. That's why I'm here. Daniel, Aaron, and I (two super cool guys I met in rehab) got a hotel room together after a failed attempt at living at this church lady's house (fleas and cat urine everywhere--I fell through a hole in the floor, too). But the neighbor at the hotel was a crack dealer, so yeah. That happened.
My new roommates are pretty cool. Russell used to be in several famous bands including Molly Hatchett. He got his start through Garth Brooks and James Brown. Pretty neat.
My car got towed. I have to pay $85 to get it out. That kind of sucks. But oh well, c'est la vie.
I'm so fucking bored right now. I wish I had my own tv or my desktop computer so I could play a good game, but all I have is my shittie laptop with no Internet. I guess I need to get more creative. I'd play my guitar, but I don't want to annoy anyone, and it's too cold to play outside. This winter has been ridiculously bipolar. The past week has been phenomenal weather, but of course the weekend comes and it's cold as fuck outside.
Maybe these neurontin will kick in so I'll care less.
Well, I moved into the recovery house. So far it's okay. Sundays are super boring though because there's nothing to do.
Oh yeah, I relapsed. That's why I'm here. Daniel, Aaron, and I (two super cool guys I met in rehab) got a hotel room together after a failed attempt at living at this church lady's house (fleas and cat urine everywhere--I fell through a hole in the floor, too). But the neighbor at the hotel was a crack dealer, so yeah. That happened.
My new roommates are pretty cool. Russell used to be in several famous bands including Molly Hatchett. He got his start through Garth Brooks and James Brown. Pretty neat.
My car got towed. I have to pay $85 to get it out. That kind of sucks. But oh well, c'est la vie.
I'm so fucking bored right now. I wish I had my own tv or my desktop computer so I could play a good game, but all I have is my shittie laptop with no Internet. I guess I need to get more creative. I'd play my guitar, but I don't want to annoy anyone, and it's too cold to play outside. This winter has been ridiculously bipolar. The past week has been phenomenal weather, but of course the weekend comes and it's cold as fuck outside.
Maybe these neurontin will kick in so I'll care less.
Friday, January 11, 2019
So Tonight That I Might See
a lot has happened since i last posted.
i did some bad meth or flaca and went psycho and threatened to kill my mother because i didn't think she was really my mom because she cut me off of the pain pills she was giving me. of course there are other reasons i thought she wasn't my mom, like the guy from saudi arabia who told me tina was my mother. and then tina told me i should come live with her in berlin. i don't know. but i eventually calmed down and realized the only place i wanted to be was back in a womb. so i layed my head in my mother's lap and cried until the cops came and took me away.
i spent 28 days in rehab and met a lot of amazing people. there are a lot of interesting details, but i don't feel like typing too much right now. my friend rachel that i met there (she's older than my mom and really cool) and i are talking about writing a tv show based on our experiences in rehab and our lives before and after.
anyway, i got out january first.
i'm supposed to go to outpatient therapy every day, but i haven't for the past two. instead i've stayed home, smoked weed and crack, and thought a lot about god.
life is strange.
i'm going to try to complete this program so i can take a road trip across country with my new friend daniel. my dad traded his gun for a camper van after josh died to console me i think.
i miss a lot of people.
i did some bad meth or flaca and went psycho and threatened to kill my mother because i didn't think she was really my mom because she cut me off of the pain pills she was giving me. of course there are other reasons i thought she wasn't my mom, like the guy from saudi arabia who told me tina was my mother. and then tina told me i should come live with her in berlin. i don't know. but i eventually calmed down and realized the only place i wanted to be was back in a womb. so i layed my head in my mother's lap and cried until the cops came and took me away.
i spent 28 days in rehab and met a lot of amazing people. there are a lot of interesting details, but i don't feel like typing too much right now. my friend rachel that i met there (she's older than my mom and really cool) and i are talking about writing a tv show based on our experiences in rehab and our lives before and after.
anyway, i got out january first.
i'm supposed to go to outpatient therapy every day, but i haven't for the past two. instead i've stayed home, smoked weed and crack, and thought a lot about god.
life is strange.
i'm going to try to complete this program so i can take a road trip across country with my new friend daniel. my dad traded his gun for a camper van after josh died to console me i think.
i miss a lot of people.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
