I haven’t written anything in a long long long time.

I feel so old.  I feel like an old woman whenever im crashing. Or thinking, actually.

I don’t even know where to begin.

i haven’t even written anything yet and my eyes are welling up.  Its so ******* hard, everything is so ******* hard.

I remember when I wrote that speed makes everything easy.  And it does, but only for a little while.   Now, everything is broken.  Nothing feels right.  Actually, nothing feels like anything anymore.

Now, I need it.  So. *******. Badly.

24 hours.  Exactly 24 hours.  That’s when the withdrawals start every single time.  Sometimes I’ll withdraw by accident.  I’m so caught up in my life I forget that I’m a sorry ******* speed freak, I’ll forget I’m an addict.  I’ll forget I’m a low-life pill head and I won’t feed the growing monster inside me.  But it doesn’t give up that easily.

I’ll feel it in my head.  It starts with this blossoming pressure headache, right between my eyes, on that bone between my eyebrows.  It feels hot, stabbing, relentless, constant.  It feels like my skull is bleeding.  I can’t see, I can’t look at light.  I wear dark glasses to hide my eyes, haunted by demons and ***** chemical desires.  My limbs shake, my head spins, I feel like I’m about to pass out, throw up, not really sure, maybe even ******* die.

But they have pills to fix headaches.  Excedrin became my best friend.  

Then started the manic depression.  Unpredictable, wild bi-polar mood swings that drove me insane.  I got so low once, I didn’t leave my bed for 36 hours.  Didn’t brush my hair, my teeth, nothing.  Just lay there crying.  Cried about the life I was ruining, my beautiful family I was letting down, the friends I couldn’t bare to see anymore.  I was so emotionally fragile, one wrong comment and I burst into tears.  I felt lost, I felt alone, somewhere dark, deep, deep down in a cold well by myself, shivering, afraid.  But I didn’t know how to word it, I only knew how to cry.  

My only escape was sleep.  Until it wasn’t.  Speed was greedy, it took that from me.

I started having crazy narcoleptic sleep-paralysis night terror episodes.  I can only describe them as slightly schizophrenic.  I wouldn’t remember falling asleep, and something normal would happen.  I’d be sitting in my bed, and then I’d fall and slam my face in a floor full of glass.  I would try and move, but I would be paralyzed.  Then I’d blink and I’d be awake, confused, as to what was happening to my sanity.  Dreams and reality cross, and I cannot longer differentiate between the real world and my imagination, ridden with monsters.  I started to hallucinate, spiders coming to get me.  I’d sob because suddenly I had nowhere to run to, I was no longer safe even in my dreams.  I am a slave to my poisoned mind.  The lack of sleep made me further depressed, dangerously suicidal.  When I slept, I would sob and yell out horrible things.  I’d cry and say I wished I would die.

I’m too sad to eat, too diseased to sleep.  I have no motivation in my life anymore to do anything.  My problem ruined my life.

I never feel happy anymore.  Now I yearn to just feel normal, or at least rid enough depression to not be suicidal.  And I miss feeling happy.  I used to be so ******* happy, and I abused it.  I took advantage of my gushing dopamine, never imagined a life without it.  I never thought one day I would need a substance to feel “okay”.  

The only thing that makes me happy now is a lot and lot and lot of speed.  But I know it’s only temporary, and only further buries me in this awful cold place I inhabit now.  

No one can help me, there is no comfort, no warmth, nothing that makes me feel less isolated, less ****** up.  I am ashamed.  I hide from the people I love, and cry from homesickness and loneliness.  But I can’t let them see what I did to myself.  Even now my fingers shake from the tears I’m fighting back as I think about my triplets, my little brothers, my kitten, my best friends, all so far away in the past, in beautiful sunny memories I keep tucked away in notebooks and pictures.  I think about my grandma, my mom, my godmother, and I whimper in shame.  I miss them all so much. I just want to go back and fix everything, but I can’t.

I can’t tell them.  They wouldn’t understand.  They would hate me, disown me, never speak to me again.  I’m so delicate right now, that rejection would push me over the edge, finally **** me.  I’d rather have them all think I’m a selfish, lazy idiot than a drug addict.  

It all just makes me cry.  I’m so lost in this awful mess.  So alone.  I miss my old life, I just want to reverse it.  But its not that easy.  

Why is it that after all this, I sit here now, fighting the urge to put another pill up my nose? WHAT THE **** IS WRONG WITH ME?

Why do I still want them? WHY? It is 2 in the ******* morning, why can’t I just come down and stay there?

I guess I’m scared. Scared to face what I have to.  Negative emotions, withdrawals, the inevitable.

But why must I binge? Why can’t I regulate? I guess that’s the definition of an addiction, a lack of self control.
Ah, the inner turmoil, the war raging inside me is slowly destroying me.

I can’t stand it. I’m sure soon I will die.

I am a creature of habit

I keep thinking wowohwowohwowohwowohwow how things CHANGE man things have changed SO much it's amazing it's incredible unbelievable overwhelming unfathomable unable to have ever predicted that here we would be hugging outside of the ADC no longer with forced smiles from clenching teeth and wicked, glassy marbles for eyes

Yet here I am still pick-pick-picking at the skin on the side of my thumb

Isn’t It Weird, I Mean Wired, I Think I Mean Weird Wait

Wait

Wait

Please

Don’tGo

Hold on, wait things haven’t changed at all, I’m thinking about the fall, thinking about the fall when the leaves were changing and so did we, permanently.  I think about the night we stayed up until the sun came up touching and talking and nearly dying one powder-filled capsule at a time.  I’m thinking about hallucinating black spiders crazy coming at me, grabbing me, surrounding me, consuming me until it seemed like there was nothing left of me at all

Except spiders, spidery veins, spidery ribs poking out from my spidery skin in every which direction with my spider tired eyes sinking into my spider tired mind

I’m thinking about another sleepless night, countless by then couldn’t remember the last time we really drifted off together into deep, peaceful rest.  We lay there at rock bottom which really turns out to be just another K hole but no amount of sticky sweet sugar will get you out.

And I took your hand in mine and said man we can’t stay like this, I looked at the spider cracks in the ceiling that matched the creases in my shaking hands and realized we changed or died.  

And I chose life.  I bent my knees and pushed up as high as I could off of the cold blacklight-lit lumpy, stained mattress on the floor we laid on because there was no other way to go but UP.

I climbed and climbed and I felt crushed beneath depression and exhaustion that latched on to my back like long-forgotten heavy backpacks full of stones and I wasn’t exactly sure who they belonged to so I carried them with me.  

The demons in my eyes started to dissolve into puddles that leaked into my lungs so I coughed them out violently night after night for weeks that seemed to stretch into years.   When my eyes managed to flutter shut for a moment I was immediately propelled into night terrors that had me screaming, crying, begging for a different life, a different night, for someone, something please save me from myself

It’s weird that that someone ended up being me

SORT OF. SORT OF is me, because I still am my own worst enemy.  I’m fighting this never ending battle in myself with myself, and I think of all these things I changed but here I am HERE I AM AGAIN listening to those same sweet whispers from under my bed, those **** demons that tell me we can just do it for a little while just to be better for a little while to not feel tired lets get wired **** everything lets get high

I’ve grinded out the sharpness of my teeth, just like I’ve grinded out the sharpness of my words, and grinded out the sharpness of the dark contrast against the images of memories of artificial sunshine happiness in my mind, my dopamine pathways have been long hibernating but unlike predictable seasons I'm unsure of when exactly spring will come, or if the groundhog will forever fear its shadow, a demon that reminds it of speed monsters it could never overpower.  

I feel like each relapse is worse than the last, like I lose another piece of me, shave off another few years of my life one heart palpitation at a time, and each time it takes more and more to finally feel fine

But there’s so much to do and so little time, so many tears to cry and no one to care, and no matter how many friends I have how many coffees I drink how many hours I sleep there’s only one thing that really makes me feel like I’m so recklessly alive

A creature of habit, I mull these thoughts over and pick my thumbs raw.

Your lips say I love you
But your hips have bite marks
That don’t belong to me
How can I ever believe you?


There is nothing quite like
The tingly anxious butterflies
Of new love, like breathing
In the first fresh flowers of spring

And there is nothing quite like
The suckerpunch to the gut
Of love’s betrayal, leaving you
gasping for air sharp as razorblades

Don’t you ******* cry, don’t you dare ******* LOOK at me like that
Like the scared little love sick boy I know you are
Don’t you dare tell me I’m beautiful, STOP I don’t wanna hear it
Don’t explain yourself, for the love of GOD DON’T tell me how it happened
How thoughts became actions or somehow accidents even though it seems very on purpose to me
Those accidents or actions quickly became regrets mistakes you couldn’t scrub off with any amount of Head and Shoulders
No amount of silver tongued talking is gonna wipe this from my memory

So don’t you ******* cry you did this to yourself

But you didn’t make me like you, I did that on my own
I’m so mad at myself, the ignorant student repeating past mistakes like an overplayed song.
I thought I was playing it too cool, I thought I was keeping my distance
Keeping that vital separation that barrier between your heart and my own
Observing you with the detached interest of a 5 year old watching ants
Occasionally squishing them with a ***** thumb just to prove that he can
When did I start forgetting where I ended and you began?

Don’t ******* tell me you love me, you don’t understand
You say words much bigger than the feelings you are trying to express
Just keep being an ******* keep ******* other girls
Keep saying what you do and start doing what you say
Instead of using that silver tongue to kiss smiles on to my face.

You aren’t broken, I am
I am flawed
I am malfunctioning
I am defective, ugly, wrong
I am mean, beyond repair
Disgustingly bitter, like licking the outside of an orange,
Disguised as a tempting delicious throbbing fruit of life.
But in reality, I am insufficient, innutritious,
A casualty no one wants to carry
But I am so afraid that one day you will see
This unfixable imperfection that is me
And you will leave.

You destroy me.

Every time I feel like I’ve finally regained balance from your tornado winds ripping through my existence you return.  And I’m never ever ever ready.

Finally I am reborn and rebuilt from the ashes and rubble you leave behind, and you tear me apart like the crumpled wet tissues I cry black eyeliner tattoos into at night. They always spell out your name.

You always come without warning, a thief in the night intent on taking every ******* **** thing you can get your hands on, every solitary item I ever held near to my beaten bruised and misshapen heart. And you take that too, and pierce it to the wall with the sharp passion in your empty-shell love ballads.  You lay it out for all to see, beating viciously, vulnerable.  You touch it till it burns with desire and then you toss it aside, an old child’s toy you have grown bored with. And you leave me to shudder and cry into the cold night, alone. You always leave me alone.  To die.

And I cry for a few days, flee into the dark to tend to my wounds, huddled and afraid.  People try to touch me and I draw away. It stings when they try to wipe away the endless river of tears.  And then I pull myself together and I start to rebuild.  I surround myself in my friends, build a protective shell around myself with their compassion and empathy.  And when I finally feel safe, you barge right in and blow my house down.

My big bad life-******* werewolf.

Why?

Why do you do this to me? Why do you torture me? Can’t you read the pain on my face, see the sleepless nights in the bags under my haunted eyes? Where is this full moon that keeps bringing you back to me at those moments when I can’t handle it? What makes you feel the need to lift me out of the water im drowning in and throw me in deeper? I need to find your kryptonite before I can’t rebuild anymore.

I’m still waiting for the night you sneak into my window just to hold me.

It doesn’t make much sense that I love you.  I’m so wrong for you, and you so right for me.  I guess it does make sense.  But you don’t love me so don’t feel bad.  It’s okay, I understand.  I’m not a high class, well-educated girl.  I feel like you need someone more like my sister, not hot-mess me.  I never match, I’m always late, my hair is always frizzy, I can’t dress myself nice, I love you.  I ******* love you.  Why can’t it be that simple?  Why can’t it just be

I love you
I love you too
I love you more
I love you

I love you.  So completely.  So needy.  Truer than blue.  You’re just

So.

Blue.

And I love you.

Your eyes.  Your smile.  Your laugh.  The way you talk with your hands.  And slur Italian so ****. Your arms. Your muscles. Your skin. Your sweat. Your spit.  Your feet. Your chest. Your strut, hips swaying. Your hips, those hip bones.  My mouth is watering. I want you.

I love your anger.  I love your jealousy.  I love your stubbornness.  I love your cockiness.  Your ****, too.

I love your hangovers.  I love your attitude problem, the way you talk down to me and ruffle my hair.  And tease me and talk to me and you don’t love me.

And it breaks me so violently, snaps every single one of my ribs, one at a time.

Crack. Crack. Crrrrrackkk-kah.

It hurts me.  It will **** me.  But it’s so true.  Because you are so completely and fully

Blue.

You consume me, floodwaters breaking the gates in my mind, leaking into every cavern, swimming debris of you slicing my brain, shallow cuts bleeding into the blue.

You move me, an ocean untamed, your waves thrash against my sanity, turn switches all the way ON.

But you go through me, you don’t see me.  You are this endless, perfect, vibrant, enormousity of sky and I am a bird, mesmerized by your beauty.  

I’m not Old enough
Smart enough
Wise enough
**** enough
Charming enough
Graceful enough
Clever enough
Fast enough
Strong enough
Tall enough
Skinny enough
Crazy enough
Impressive enough
Bodacious enough
Perfect enough

To ever win you.

How is it possible for one person to make you feel so absolutely wonderful and absolutely awful at the same time?  Even now I feel self-conscious writing these words, as if you are somehow perched behind me silently dotting i’s and crossing t’s.  I wish I could be prettier about this.

For you.

I ******* love you.

And I can’t say a word.  I’m afraid to inconvenience you.  I don’t want to make you feel anything but bliss. Part of me wishes you could just feed off my rich, sweet, sticky love for you.  And you could live forever.  But part of me knows you don’t want to sip from my overflowing cup.

And
You
Come
First

So I’ve sewn my mouth shut and fed you the key.  I only hope you’ll reject it, throw up stinky bile all over me.  It’s the only love from you I even deserve.

I love the way you touched my thigh.  Your fingers just barely grazed it, as if sitting next to me was so natural you forgot I wasn’t a continuation of you.  I only wish your lips had followed.

Sometimes I imagine myself getting drowned deranged drunk and spilling my thoughts all over you, a slimy shower of emotion you would rub all over that ******* chest and your heart would pound so loudly veins would rip.  But then I snap back into reality when I bump into a pole.

You smell like Italy, summer, on the beach, with an ice cold fruity drink in my hand.  White white teeth, smiling around an orange wedge.

Whenever we talk I secretly reread our conversations and overanalyze and morph and mold them into the perfect love.  You and me.  I think you are pounding at the door ten flights down screaming my name.  But it’s just all the stupid drunk druggy college kids.

Am I a stupid drunk druggy college kid

To you?

I remember when you hit me in the foot with a door and I yelped “ow” and crouched to the ground. And you crouched down and said, “Are you okay?”  But you looked right into me, into my muddy eyes, and you were

Soooooooooooo thisthisthisthisthisthis close to me.

And I got angry.  And said, “Yeah, I’m fine, ****, calm down.”  Why did I do that?

I told you I have a bad memory.  I don’t.

Have you ever lied to me?

I’ve been writing so much all I can smell is the tangy bitter smell of ink.  And it’s sad that that’s the only sensation I’ll ever know when it comes to you.  

Unless you want ***.  And you might.  I could give myself too, let you use this mint-condition waterbag shell.  You could use me ‘till I wear down to bone and my organs look like rotten vegetables.  But it would **** me faster.

I will be your *******.  You can cheat on me and hate me.  And chew my nails.  Eat my skin.  You already set me on fire.  I’m just gonna burn out, anyway.

I want to look in the dictionary and write down every single word that belongs to you.

I want to write you suicide notes.

Every time I eat an apple, I think of the time you let me take a bite of your forbidden fruit.  And you bit right on top of my saliva and teeth marks.  Like nothing.

Because you are everything.  And I am everything else, nothing.

Soulmates.  So you say.  Why do you tease me?  You hang yourself right above me, a shiny, round, juicy, tender, tempting, sweet nectarine without a single bruise, just out of my reach.

I howl my rage at the moon every night, for tattooing your contagious inferno across my throbbing chest.

You make me cry.  Did you know that?  I cry into my pillow so it stifles my whimpers.  I sound like a choking, sputtering, snot-filled dog.  And I can never swim to the surface of the loneliness that is drowning me.

Sometimes, I just wanna ******* punch you.  And knock all your teeth out.  Stab you up the nose so the whole **** thing falls off in a gurgling, bubbling, ****** mess.  Because

Well I don’t know

You make me mad

But that made me think of you dying and the jolt that just went through my body was so searing I pray you’re immortal.

And I never pray.