Two days clean. I went to a meeting yesterday, where a guy suggested that I should really think about switching to heroin, cause oxy is waaay too expensive. I knew he was weak, even though he 27 days. I knew that if I even suggested it, he would have taken me to get drugs. It was bothersome at the time. And it made me sad for him. And scared for me.

When I got home, for the first time in a long time, I masturbated. It was intense and heartbreaking, cause it was filled with thoughts of my ex. But as soon as I came, all my thoughts switched to the guy at the meeting. And how wonderful it would be to run off and do heroin with him. And then how we could maintain our habit. And I would have someone to love me again. Even my body is revolting. I can trust nothing. I am completely out of my comfort zone. I realize that I have no idea how to do this.

When I searched the term “girl come undone” on google images, one of the first results that came up was this:

What interests me about this photo, other than it’s curious tagging, is the look on her face. She’s looking fully into the camera, and from her body posture, she appears to be at ease. As though she trust this man. But she is licking only the tip of his penis, almost in hesitation. Like the first time you go down on someone, as if just to taste for a moment. It is this mix of uncertainty and calm which intrigues me.

The story of my undoing is long. Possibly the length of life. But, for now, I will start with the tangible things. Things I can point to as definite indicators of what was to come.

7 years of drug abuse. I am what is often termed a “functioning” addict. I worked, went to my classes, and did just enough so that I could continue using unfettered. Except for a few bad quarters, I probably appeared “together,” zany and perhaps a little distant. What I presented myself as and what I actually felt were polar opposites. I am a needy train wreck, who is at once self-aggrandizing and self-loathing. For some reason, I cling to people and toy with them, only to realize how much I need them when they are gone. I miss the ones that have left, and yet I continue to ruin the ones that are here. 

When I started using drugs, I never assumed it would last as long as it has. My drug use is the one major part of my life that I can point to as a cause for this mess. Mostly, because it has allowed me to remain static and unquestioningly give reign to that which I consider base in me. My jealousy, possessiveness, and general neediness. 

Now that I have lost everything that had meaning to me, I can further lose myself in drug abuse, or I can redefine what it is to be me. I think I’ll go for the latter.

C

Why a blog? I’m not sure. My friend, who created a successful travel blog, suggested that a blog should have a focus, instead just being about whatever comes to the writer’s head at the time of blogging. But I tend to be capricious, and therefore I could probably define what the blog would be about today, but not tomorrow or the next day. 

Today, I am starting the blog, because I feel like I am falling. I have lost almost everything of substance in my life. So I thought I would chronicle the trials and wonder of putting my life back together.

Wish me something.

C