Well it looks as if my dealer will come thru for me. Thank goodness as I have only been calling her since 3pm and it is now 7:30pm. Talked to her exactly a half an hour ago and she said that she just had to meet someone and then would come right over here. Don't really know what right over means but it better be before 8pm as I am really really sick right now. I want to hurl everything right about now and I can't leave my desk until she gets here. Hurry up. I need to do something ASAP. Please do not make me wait much longer...
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
What Else is New
Today has been the absolute shit I have to admit. I did manage to cop a dilaudid before work and a quarter worth of speed but neither one seems to have any affect on me today for some reason other than the fact that I am feeling kind of sorry for myself. My dealer has my car so I might try calling her to see if she will drop something off to me. Like that is going to happen.
Like nothing is going to happen of course. She said that she is out of everything so must be true - yeah, whatever. Like I am not an idiot. Pisses me off that she will take my car and when I want something delivered to me, she couldn't be arsed. This just bugs me so very much. I know that I don't have any money right now but she has my bloody vehicle so that should be good enough. She knows damn well that I am good for it too. I want to go home from work too but I know that if I do I will be in deep crap here cause I think that I have pretty much used up my welcome as far as going home early, etc. Well I guess that I only have 3 hours left but even that seems like an enternity right about now. I feel as if I am going to upchuck what little I have in my stomach right now. Whatever. Sucks to be me right now that is for sure.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Double Grrrr
OK Firefox is acting all weird and for some reason when I am in rich text mode it will not let me get to the entry field. Tried tabbing to it, tried clicking repeatedly with my mouse inside of it, tried refreshing, opening another window...but nothing. Oh well, not something that will end up changing my life so might as well move on. This city sucks big. There have been no dilaudids around in a long itme, well a week now, and the only thing that we have been able to get are 40mg oxys which is better than nothing but no where near the same as my Lady Dis. Whatever. I mean I can feel them and all but they don't have the same rush to them and they certainly don't seem to last the same length of time. This weekend my boyfriend and I have already gone thrugh thirteen of them and it is only Sunday morning before 8am. About the only good thing is that they are considerably cheaper, well, also I guess they are keeping any sickness at bay so...
They make me itch which I do not like and also, kind of make my stomach upset. The itching is driving e insane. I may take a shower in a few moments which should help some. My boyfriend says that they are crap but he has been on the nod all weekend so they obviously have an affect on him no matter what he says. I guess that I am bummed cause I don't feel anywhere near as good as he apparently is feeling so I am feeling sorry for myself. I mean what else are weeends for? On the other hand I have gotten quite a lot of stuff done so far. I made new curtains for the living room and covered one of those ottoman cubes with matching fabric. I also am almost finished making a new skirt for work. I still have a pile of laundry to put away but that is my least favourite chore so I am putting that off as long as possible.
OK I am terribly thirsty right now so I guess that I will get a glass of juice and maybe something to eat.
They make me itch which I do not like and also, kind of make my stomach upset. The itching is driving e insane. I may take a shower in a few moments which should help some. My boyfriend says that they are crap but he has been on the nod all weekend so they obviously have an affect on him no matter what he says. I guess that I am bummed cause I don't feel anywhere near as good as he apparently is feeling so I am feeling sorry for myself. I mean what else are weeends for? On the other hand I have gotten quite a lot of stuff done so far. I made new curtains for the living room and covered one of those ottoman cubes with matching fabric. I also am almost finished making a new skirt for work. I still have a pile of laundry to put away but that is my least favourite chore so I am putting that off as long as possible.
OK I am terribly thirsty right now so I guess that I will get a glass of juice and maybe something to eat.
Too Many Chiefs
Something is up at work although I am not 100% sure of what is exactly going on. I had to switch computer stations today to sit at a spot that normally Lennon, the other fellow on this project, sits which is pretty much right open in the middle of the call centre. Hmmm.I think that it has to do with breaks and such but if they are trying to nail me for taking unnecessary breaks then they are looking at the wrong person. Lennon takes way more breaks than I ever could in a day that's for sure. I am going to keep track today actually of the amount of time that he spends away from his station cause it they are going to be petty, then I sure as hell can be petty also.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Dope Sick, Again
I am at work right now doing the countdown. Just have an hour and a half to go so that isn't too too bad. I have been feeling really grievey at work today for some reason. Haven't had any dilaudid as per my usual. Instead I have done two Oxy 80s and a decent size hit of speed. I don't think that the oxys last as long as the dilaudids seem to. If I had taken a d just before work, I would not be feeling this crappy this early. I just called my dealer and said that she could have my vehicle for the night if she could hook me up with any kind of opiate for this evening. I am flat broke right now so I can't go to my other dealers now cause I owe her a freaking huge tab. Christ I hate the fact that we are between pays right now. I know that most of my mood is self-inflicted as the more I think about it the more I want to use and then the more agitated that I become because of it. Thought about calling my dealer to see if she happened to find anything yet. I will be just gutted if when she comes to pick me up at 9pm, she has nothing with her. Well, she ain't going to get my vehicle if she has no dope for me either. Not only do I need for her to get me dope, I also need for her to pick up the tab for it this time also. Whatever.
I freakin hate being dope sick. Some days are way worse than others. I hate being broke more but even being brokeit doesn't stop me from copping dope with my last five dollars. OK fine, I will go back to work.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
I MISS YOU, HEROIN
If you think junkies have a ferocious hunger for heroin, consider spending every single day pretending not to be a junky. It's incredible work. You see, junkies live outside the law; they need heroin, period. A functional addict needs heroin more. A functional addict doesn't rob and pillage for heroin because there is a risk of being caught, and if you are caught you don't get a reduction cure, you get sick and are then forced to quit. So instead the functional addict gets up every morning and goes to work. They work overtime. A functional addict operates the same way as a junky in regards to needing heroin. The difference is that a functional addict has the ability to wait.
For a functional addict time is something that isn't shown on a clock. Before I quit heroin two years ago, I got up twenty minutes earlier than I do now. I never needed an alarm clock because I knew that it was time for a shot. I never hit snooze and I was never, ever, late for work. I would open my eyes and be in the bathroom fifteen seconds later. I went to work until lunchtime, when I would speed home for a midday shot. That shot would send me reeling, and I would head back to work to make another half days worth of pay so I could buy more junk that night. When I was at work, much like anyone else, I would look at the clock and count the minutes. But as a heroin addict, not only does time slow down, time stops if you need a shot. Working in a world where heroin is generally considered bad stuff is a bit tricky; you can't exactly be high.
A functional addict has to have the ability to separate themselves from heroin enough to appear to be completely normal. Hiding my addiction was not very hard because most people have no idea that someone can be a heroin addict and have a job. People don't recognize heroin addiction in a functional addict. The best way to hide your heroin addiction is to blame your symptoms on something else. A functional addict is a Hollywood film crew rolled into one person. I am an actress, a makeup artist, a director, and an editor. When people noticed I never ate, I acted as if I had an eating disorder. When I had done too much on my lunch break and had to throw up, I blamed my rush to the bathroom on my period or diarrhoea or a vaginal problem. I didn't give a fuck what people thought of my hygiene, as long as they thought it was a physical issue.
As a functional addict you must be very proficient with make up in order to cover track marks. Do you really think Aunt Sally and Cousin Susie aren't going to notice if you're wearing long sleeves in the summer heat? Of course people notice that kind of shit. You'd be surprised at how often people see things that are out of place. Being functional means not getting caught and not getting caught can take some creative measures. When people would notice something askew about me, I would change whatever they were noticing. I never had anyone pinpoint what, exactly, was wrong, but people came close. I had to play director in my own life. I had to be able to see myself as other people saw me, and edit out all the things that might jeopardize my supply of heroin. An addiction is a sickness in itself, but being sick because you don't have whatever you are addicted to is infinitely worse. So I worked at being an addict.
Being a functional addict gave me an entirely different perspective on life. I mean, besides the fact that I didn't have a savings account, looking into my life you would have thought I was just a girl. I wasn't just a girl though. I did something everyday that no one ever knew about. Who I was at work and socially was my alter ego. I was pretending to give a shit about life because I needed and wanted my heroin supply to be constant. I was not an addict that surrounded myself with only other addicts; that's dangerous business because junkies are much more common than functional addicts. In fact, I've only ever known one other functional addict. Most of the people I knew and talked to and hung out with had no idea I was addicted to heroin. I faked my entire existence just to maintain my addiction. If I lost my job: no heroin. If my family or friends found out: instant intervention and no heroin. If I didn't pay my bills: no place to shoot up. Suffice to say that besides paying my bills, all my money went to heroin. I didn't buy new clothes and I didn't go to the grocery store. My secret life was flawless, and quitting wasn't because I couldn't afford it, or someone forced me.
Whenever I think of heroin, I think of it fondly, but then I'm lucky. I was a functional addict, so I knew when enough was enough. I knew I couldn't continue shooting heroin forever, and I know now that I can never be addicted again. I've seen what heroin can really do to people, and while throughout I've been saying it's possible to be a functional addict, it is not possible to be a functional addict and accomplish anything. In order to be a functional addict forever, you cannot have dreams. You can't think of a better life. You cannot be successful at the same time. You have to go to your crappy job everyday, and no matter how much you hate it, you can't quit. You can't look for a new job because you have to buy junk today. The best you can hope for is moving up within your company. With heroin it's either all-in or all-out. Whether you are a junky or a functional addict, heroin runs your life. There is no time for anything else.
I hate myself for missing heroin, but I just can't help it. Every summer I wonder if anyone notices my faded scars, to which I no longer apply makeup. Every morning I think about that purple Crown Royal bag I used to keep my works in. Every afternoon I wonder if Josie has oxycontins, morphine, heroin, or diladid today. I don't remember every shot of heroin I ever took, but I remember taking a fucking shitload of them. I remember shooting up with a plastic spoon and saliva in the parking lot of a bank. I remember spurting blood all over a hotel room before a Jane's Addiction concert. I remember using the electrical cord from a curling iron in my moms' bathroom to tie off. I remember heroin. I remember how fucking great it made me feel. I mean, there were some bad points too, but the bad don't add up to that one perfect moment; that moment heroin addicts live for.
It's been two years since I shot up, but there are a million reminders everyday. These little insignificant things that my mind associates with heroin are everywhere. Walgreen's and I have a very special relationship thanks to their acceptance of my bullshit diabetic card. When I can't turn left, I always check to see how long the street is, and if it isn't very long, I go the wrong way, just out of habit. I run red lights even though I'm no longer rushing to buy heroin, and I shake with excitement when I see confederate flag stickers on the back of trucks. I've spent more time waiting in front of a 7-11 than you've spent riding the subway. With all the time I've spent waiting for, chasing after, or shooting in heroin, I could have written twelve books.
I wish I could videotape myself writing this because I am shaking. It's been two years since I last did heroin, but I know if someone were to walk in with works and a bag, I would have that needle in my arm before you could say HIV. I miss it. Sometimes I wonder how I have gone this long without even dosing once. And I look forward to a time when I can dose again. I even know when that day is, and I am counting down. It's not until April though, so I have a while to wait. You might ask, "Why would you quit for two years only to take another shot?"
Well the answer is obvious. I miss heroin. I miss the routine. I miss waking up everyday and knowing exactly what I need to do that day. I didn't even realize how much I missed it until just now. Just now while trying to put into words what I think about when I think about H. Besides, you don't get addicted in one shot. I figure since I haven't had one for two years I can have a couple, and be ok. But that's a saga for another day. Actually I'm pretty interested to find out what it feels like after all this time. I'll probably puke my guts out.
I'm not going to pretend that heroin is okay -- most people who develop a real addiction to heroin never quit. I don't know the exact statistic, but I know this previous statement is true. I am lucky to have been born with the willpower I have, and as stated previously, I only know of one other functional addict. I'm lucky to remember what I wanted before heroin. And what I want from life is much bigger and better than one small moment of heroin bullshit. But that one small moment of bullshit is something that I can't get out of my head.
For a functional addict time is something that isn't shown on a clock. Before I quit heroin two years ago, I got up twenty minutes earlier than I do now. I never needed an alarm clock because I knew that it was time for a shot. I never hit snooze and I was never, ever, late for work. I would open my eyes and be in the bathroom fifteen seconds later. I went to work until lunchtime, when I would speed home for a midday shot. That shot would send me reeling, and I would head back to work to make another half days worth of pay so I could buy more junk that night. When I was at work, much like anyone else, I would look at the clock and count the minutes. But as a heroin addict, not only does time slow down, time stops if you need a shot. Working in a world where heroin is generally considered bad stuff is a bit tricky; you can't exactly be high.
A functional addict has to have the ability to separate themselves from heroin enough to appear to be completely normal. Hiding my addiction was not very hard because most people have no idea that someone can be a heroin addict and have a job. People don't recognize heroin addiction in a functional addict. The best way to hide your heroin addiction is to blame your symptoms on something else. A functional addict is a Hollywood film crew rolled into one person. I am an actress, a makeup artist, a director, and an editor. When people noticed I never ate, I acted as if I had an eating disorder. When I had done too much on my lunch break and had to throw up, I blamed my rush to the bathroom on my period or diarrhoea or a vaginal problem. I didn't give a fuck what people thought of my hygiene, as long as they thought it was a physical issue.
As a functional addict you must be very proficient with make up in order to cover track marks. Do you really think Aunt Sally and Cousin Susie aren't going to notice if you're wearing long sleeves in the summer heat? Of course people notice that kind of shit. You'd be surprised at how often people see things that are out of place. Being functional means not getting caught and not getting caught can take some creative measures. When people would notice something askew about me, I would change whatever they were noticing. I never had anyone pinpoint what, exactly, was wrong, but people came close. I had to play director in my own life. I had to be able to see myself as other people saw me, and edit out all the things that might jeopardize my supply of heroin. An addiction is a sickness in itself, but being sick because you don't have whatever you are addicted to is infinitely worse. So I worked at being an addict.
Being a functional addict gave me an entirely different perspective on life. I mean, besides the fact that I didn't have a savings account, looking into my life you would have thought I was just a girl. I wasn't just a girl though. I did something everyday that no one ever knew about. Who I was at work and socially was my alter ego. I was pretending to give a shit about life because I needed and wanted my heroin supply to be constant. I was not an addict that surrounded myself with only other addicts; that's dangerous business because junkies are much more common than functional addicts. In fact, I've only ever known one other functional addict. Most of the people I knew and talked to and hung out with had no idea I was addicted to heroin. I faked my entire existence just to maintain my addiction. If I lost my job: no heroin. If my family or friends found out: instant intervention and no heroin. If I didn't pay my bills: no place to shoot up. Suffice to say that besides paying my bills, all my money went to heroin. I didn't buy new clothes and I didn't go to the grocery store. My secret life was flawless, and quitting wasn't because I couldn't afford it, or someone forced me.
Whenever I think of heroin, I think of it fondly, but then I'm lucky. I was a functional addict, so I knew when enough was enough. I knew I couldn't continue shooting heroin forever, and I know now that I can never be addicted again. I've seen what heroin can really do to people, and while throughout I've been saying it's possible to be a functional addict, it is not possible to be a functional addict and accomplish anything. In order to be a functional addict forever, you cannot have dreams. You can't think of a better life. You cannot be successful at the same time. You have to go to your crappy job everyday, and no matter how much you hate it, you can't quit. You can't look for a new job because you have to buy junk today. The best you can hope for is moving up within your company. With heroin it's either all-in or all-out. Whether you are a junky or a functional addict, heroin runs your life. There is no time for anything else.
I hate myself for missing heroin, but I just can't help it. Every summer I wonder if anyone notices my faded scars, to which I no longer apply makeup. Every morning I think about that purple Crown Royal bag I used to keep my works in. Every afternoon I wonder if Josie has oxycontins, morphine, heroin, or diladid today. I don't remember every shot of heroin I ever took, but I remember taking a fucking shitload of them. I remember shooting up with a plastic spoon and saliva in the parking lot of a bank. I remember spurting blood all over a hotel room before a Jane's Addiction concert. I remember using the electrical cord from a curling iron in my moms' bathroom to tie off. I remember heroin. I remember how fucking great it made me feel. I mean, there were some bad points too, but the bad don't add up to that one perfect moment; that moment heroin addicts live for.
It's been two years since I shot up, but there are a million reminders everyday. These little insignificant things that my mind associates with heroin are everywhere. Walgreen's and I have a very special relationship thanks to their acceptance of my bullshit diabetic card. When I can't turn left, I always check to see how long the street is, and if it isn't very long, I go the wrong way, just out of habit. I run red lights even though I'm no longer rushing to buy heroin, and I shake with excitement when I see confederate flag stickers on the back of trucks. I've spent more time waiting in front of a 7-11 than you've spent riding the subway. With all the time I've spent waiting for, chasing after, or shooting in heroin, I could have written twelve books.
I wish I could videotape myself writing this because I am shaking. It's been two years since I last did heroin, but I know if someone were to walk in with works and a bag, I would have that needle in my arm before you could say HIV. I miss it. Sometimes I wonder how I have gone this long without even dosing once. And I look forward to a time when I can dose again. I even know when that day is, and I am counting down. It's not until April though, so I have a while to wait. You might ask, "Why would you quit for two years only to take another shot?"
Well the answer is obvious. I miss heroin. I miss the routine. I miss waking up everyday and knowing exactly what I need to do that day. I didn't even realize how much I missed it until just now. Just now while trying to put into words what I think about when I think about H. Besides, you don't get addicted in one shot. I figure since I haven't had one for two years I can have a couple, and be ok. But that's a saga for another day. Actually I'm pretty interested to find out what it feels like after all this time. I'll probably puke my guts out.
I'm not going to pretend that heroin is okay -- most people who develop a real addiction to heroin never quit. I don't know the exact statistic, but I know this previous statement is true. I am lucky to have been born with the willpower I have, and as stated previously, I only know of one other functional addict. I'm lucky to remember what I wanted before heroin. And what I want from life is much bigger and better than one small moment of heroin bullshit. But that one small moment of bullshit is something that I can't get out of my head.
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