No worries

A beautiful night. Sitting on the steps. Her arms around me tight as she whispers how everything will be okay.
Chocolate ice cream and the fresh mountain air. A million stars decorate the sky. So complete.
Distance sounds. The wind in the trees. The flow of the creek and a low roar of a car on 115.
Her laughter tickles. Her words fill me with warmth. Her touch is soothing. And I am safe there in her arms.
She never fails to amaze me. I think she knows me better than I know myself.

My Fight

Things are always different for an outsider. One that has no idea what you are going through.

Back Then...
I was never really a book reader. Sure, I read the required books in high school. I didn't become a cult fan of the books like "The Catcher in the Rye" or care too much for "To Kill a Mockingbird." Only one book stood out for me. A book I had to read in Psychology class. "Go Ask Alice." Mostly because I read it during my recovering from addiction years. Since no one really knew what I was going through, that book helped me remember why I was going through it. I wanted to live.

ad·dic·tion
\ə-ˈdik-shən, a-\
noun
1: the quality or state of being addicted
2: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal ; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful


with·draw·al \-ˈdrȯ(-ə)l\
1 a: the act of taking back or away something that has been granted or possessed b: removal from a place of deposit or investment c (1): the discontinuance of administration or use of a drug (2): the syndrome of often painful physical and psychological symptoms that follows discontinuance of an addicting drug

Addiction is like a lover that sneaks into your life, takes over your life, and then refuses to leave. Yes, like a lover.
Because in those moments...when you are so high, feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof with no pain and no worries...you believe that pill you took or whatever your drug of choice was, you believe that it loves you.
And you love it because it took away that memory, that pain, that hurt, that worry, that fist, those words...everything. You are blissfully numb and you think that you are in the middle of the worlds greatest love affair.

My addiction refused to leave without a knock down, drag out fight. I was determined to win. Like I said, I wanted to LIVE. And if a person ever tells you that withdrawals are easy, they are lying and have no idea what addiction really is.

Withdrawal...good God. Pain, so much pain. I swore my marrow hurt. Sweat. Freezing. Shaking. Nausea. Hallucinations. Paranioia.
Again, I told my mom I had the flu. I'm sure if she wasn't working so much, she would have figured it out. During the day, while she was at work, I would sit in the corner of my room, sweating to death but freezing to the core. I'd pull the fibers from the carpet in my clinched fists as I'd bite my lip so hard it would bleed. So many times I was sure I was going to die. I heard voices and swore they were angels coming to take me away.

It was the worst physical and mental experience of my life. I didn't see day light for at least two weeks. But finally, things subsided enough for me to feel confident I could go outside without freaking out. I still stayed away from my friends, though. Slowly, I began to realize that they weren't worthy of being called friends anyway. They would be the first to drag me back down.

Yeah, I never really read much, but that book...it could have, would have, and almost was...me.

Definitions 2

mor⋅bid 

1. suggesting an unhealthy mental state or attitude; unwholesomely gloomy, sensitive, extreme, etc.: a morbid interest in death.
2. affected by, caused by, causing, or characteristic of disease.
3. pertaining to diseased parts: morbid anatomy.
4. gruesome; grisly.

Origin: 1650–60; < L morbidus sickly, equiv. to morb(us) sickness + -idus 4 Related forms:
mor⋅bid⋅ly, adverb
mor⋅bid⋅ness, noun

Synonyms:2. unwholesome, diseased, unhealthy, sick, sickly; tainted, corrupted, vitiated.

It might be a good idea for someone to check on my sanity today. I swear I'm not as demented as my head is pretending to be right now! Shh...it could be a lie.

Addiction Cemetery

This post goes out to Starr and Peace and all the girls over at CrazyLesbianCircus that have been asking for more. I love you girls and miss you like mad.

And I'd like to publicly thank Starr for wanting to write the book about this stuff. She says my life is an inspiration and the story needs to be told. I think the same about her life...but she has refused to let me write about it.

On to the next chapter...Back Then.

I was in and out of consciousness for I don't know how long. At one point, I do remember moving the dresser from in front of the door. But I forgot to unlock it. I prayed as I sat in the corner trying to stay awake that my mom would come home and check on me and she would call the ambulance.

That trip to the hospital never happened. So, I died. Yes, I really died. If I told you the story of how I know this, you would probably think I was completely insane. But I really did die.

I was given a choice. Clean up or never go back. Obviously I chose to clean up because I'm here now. I can give you a million reasons for why I decided to live but the one that matters the most was my mom. I knew she wouldn't have been able to handle it. I couldn't do that to her.

When I finally came to and realized what had happened wasn't really a dream, I kind of freaked. I went to the kitchen and grabbed some trash bags. I went through every thing I owned and threw away anything and everything that reminded me of drugs. Pipes, bongs, music, my art, clothes. Everything. If I was going to do it, if I was going to keep that promise and stay clean, I couldn't have any reminders or triggers.

After I stuffed it all in the trash bin outside, I went back in my room. In my dresser drawer, below the Rolling Stone magazine was my stash. I think I sat there and stared at that drawer for at least an hour. And when I finally pulled it from that drawer, I held that little bag in my hand and begged for the strength to get rid of it. I dumped it on my bed and sorted through it one last time. In the cellophane from a pack of smokes were a few hits of acid. Album covers. In a small baggie, a few lines of coke. Two rolled joints. And in the last of the baggies, a nice assortment of my favorite pills.

I shoved it all back in the brown bag and grabbed some clothes. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat down in front of that toilet and shook. I swear it felt like I had the devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Sweat poured off me like someone was pouring water over my head and my heart felt like it had relocated to my throat.

I emptied the contents of that brown bag on the floor. I grabbed the coke first because I never really cared for the stuff that much anyway. I thought it would be the easiest to flush. The shaking got worse the closer I got to that addiction cemetery. And as my hand hovered above the grave, my breathing became panicked. I have to do this. I need to do this. I kept repeating those sentences over and over. I closed my eyes and thought it all out again. My pep talk wasn't working because I wasn't saying the right thing. It wasn't about having or needing to do anything. It was about wanting to do it. This IS what I WANT. I WANT to be CLEAN. I opened that baggie and poured everything out. I unrolled those joints and dropped it all in. I opened the pills I could and crushed the others and dropped them in. The last to go was the acid. But it did go.

I'm not sure if my mom wondered what the hell I was doing flushing the toilet so many times but she never asked. I just had to make sure it was all gone. When I was done burying my addiction, I stripped to hop in the shower.

If I needed any other reason to quit drugs, I found it all over my body in the form of bruises and cuts and scratches from the attack I had to fight off. Anger finally washed away my panic and fear of having to start my life from scratch, so to speak. And as I washed away the bloody remnants of what their hands had done to me, I plotted my revenge.

Hell hath no fury...

Nothing really

Those dreams....I wonder if its a sign or something.

And for the one, two, or few of you that have been waiting patiently for the rest of the "back then" story, I will be adding to it soon. Sorry I left you all hanging for so long. It's just at that part in my life things went a little crazy. Crazier than I like to admit.

Anyhow...I did miss Joan Jett yesterday in Atlanta. Its okay though, I hear she will be back in October. If not, there might be a chance I will be able to catch her in North Carolina next month and if not then, I should be able to catch her in Florida in October when I'm on my way down to meet up with friends for the dew tour.

The rest of this year will be pretty busy.

Confusion...why now?

What do you want? And why now?

Its been years since I thought of you. Years since we lost touch. Years.
But here you are. In my dreams. Every night for the past two weeks and I don't understand.
Even in my dreams, you are the same as you were back then. Flirting and touching. Keeping me right on the edge of wanting you so bad that it hurt. You're demanding all of my attention again and I don't want to give it to you. I don't want to give in to you. I can't do it.

All this time has passed...so what the hell do you want?

Do you remember how you cried when I told you I was going to marry him? Do you remember how you begged me not to? And when I asked you why, you shied away. Even after I said for you I wouldn't. You wouldn't admit it then and I know you won't admit it now.

And those few years that went by, when we didn't speak, I looked for you. I looked everywhere. I even went to your fathers house, hoping to God that I would have one more chance to tell you what you had meant to me back then. Time went by and then you found me. You found me when I was already in love with her. A love so unbelievable that it made what we had look like a joke. You wouldn't see me, but I knew you wanted to. I knew I had to see you. I had to let you know once and for all what I felt for you.

You made me tell you over the phone. And I confessed that I loved you then. That all you had to do was say the word and I would have never married him. I would have been with you. Would have. But everything happens for a reason and I know now that we were never meant to be.

Was it fear of acceptance that kept you away? I know you loved me. Hell, your own brother was gay and out. But you held me at an arms length away, pulling when you wanted and pushing when you didn't. I wasn't your toy then and I refuse to be now.

So stay out of my dreams. Because I don't understand. And if you are upset because I'm happy without you...GOOD. Because I have no regrets and wouldn't change a thing.

Listen *violin music*

I did it. I finally did it.

Its been a great three (maybe four, I can't remember) years with you. In your early years you navigated me through the toughest of Internet sites. You edited my pictures and documented some of the greatest moments. And when Rock scorched the Internet thingy, I kept you and used you everyday.
You hold some of the coolest music and some of my best writings. Even that really morbid drawing I did in paint will forever be yours.

Yes, I will miss you. Up until the point I smash you to the concrete for dying in the middle of the most important scene of my new book. You and your shitty sound and fuzzy looking screen. The eater of all important things. You might be limping right now but mark my words...you will not see another day!

Disclaimer...I really know nothing about computers. But I do know that I finally really permanently killed my lap top last night. It took me down with it though, the slimy bastard, by making impossible for me to see the screen so I could save some of the things I had on it....like my book ideas and edits from the other books I've written. Fuck the funeral...I'm taking revenge!

On the upside...J said she's buying me a Mac!!!