called addiction..how it changes all things..plans..outlooks..moods..
loves..hates..times..laughter..
tears..goals..life & yes even death.

As much as it made me crazy to not do..I didn’t score last night..I waited until the last possible moment to call (a game I play to stay away), and last night my luck was having none of it. No one called back..yes I paced..swore..watched the clock mercilessly..dialed & dialed the number a hundred plus times..berated myself for wanting..for waiting..but I did achieve what I set out to do..not score.

This morning bright and early..

I could hardy wait to wake up..sleeping just on this side of the unconscious..eyes popping open at the exact time I knew the dealer of my chosen wares 
switched his cell on.. as he prepares for yet another day of silent &
prolonged killing.

I sit here with itchy fingers..the cell staring me down..my eyes reflecting in its dark shiny plastic daring me to wait again…to try & put it off again..to go without again. Already thinking I’m not going to be able to abstain today..that’s for sure..as my defeatest attitude rears its taunting head…beating down & out any & all parts of me who dares to try. Like a ruthless lover who you crave way to much..opiates beckon me to call for them.

If I can get through this day and not cop..ha..well that’s a joke..it just aint happening.

Yes I could take alot of methadone and wait it out but the truth is I don’t want to…I really don’t. These stages we go through are mind boggling sometimes. I can resist for a long time and be doing perfectly fine for months on end with only juice (methadone), then I run into a pocket of time where all I want..crave..need and simply gots to have..is just one more glorious, delicious ‘hug me all over and over and over again�?hit. The feeling is unparalleled..the warmth flooding every cell of my being…there is absolutely nothing else like it..not sex..not love..not music..not laughter..not anger..not thrills..not all of the senses combined..not all of the above together times one thousand.

Nothing.

There has to be more to it than it’s addictive properties..it’s as if the dope is an entity unto itself..finding its legs its life when it enters our bloodstream..some might liken this to a vampire..a sucker of the soul..and they would not be far off. Still I say..if it is so..well bite me bite me bite me & fucking bite me again.

Please.

I write this and I want to not write this..I spend most of my time fighting what I’ve written here with every fiber of my being..denying..saying I’m okay..no not shooting dope anymore..I’ve grown

Bullshit.. if I’m being honest..if I am speaking truth..this is what comes out strong..this is what has walked beside me through it all..accompanied me to places no other would..through thick and thin..through times of everything and of nothingness..this is really how I feel…heroin is my passion..and sadly or nay..it’s the only one I’ve ever found.

I have no desire to write..to be creative..to think..to feel..to ‘do�?anything..

but go and score.

Shameful revalations of the self indeed..

http://maryblackchurch.heroindiaries.com/?p=691

 

Sha aka Mary Blackchurch