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Old 02-26-2002, 08:48 PM   #1
type_x
Senior Member
 
Join Date: Feb 2002
Posts: 1,512
Default Diary of an insane drugaholic

Wow I never realized what a drug addict and alcoholic I am until the last month or so when I decided to stop getting fucked up. Since I was 14 I've smoked pot every day. I don't usually get smashed when I drink, but I would drink beer and vodka just about every night. I have a dangerous taste for painkillers and opiates- last fall my roommate had a large supply of "opium", which actually turned out to be extremely high-grade black tar heroin- I smoked myself blind with that shit for months until the supply faded. Probably the only thing keeping me from being a heroin/ painkiller addict is lack of supply. I had quit smoking cigarettes right before my 21st birthday, and lasted 2 years until November when the shit really hit the fan for me.

That was a little while after the worst time in my life, when I had to let go of someone I loved more than the world. Ironically, I lost her to drugs. Different, more fucked-up drugs, but drugs all the same. When we were together, I was still a pothead but didn't touch other shit and hardly ever drank. I was pretty happy for those two years. I had tremendous success at my job, love from a beautiful girl, a nice car, pretty much all I needed. Then everything went wrong. Some old guy friend got in touch with her and they hung out one night. She sort of disappeared for a number of days, and I came to find out he had given her crystal meth (which she had never tried or seen). I won't get into extreme detail again, but she got totally addicted and ended up on the streets- a completely different, evil person. She also found a new "guy", the skinniest, most cracked-out, broke loser you could imagine. He lived with his parents at 24, and then in his 80-something Escort until it got impounded. She suddenly hated me for no reason, yet still found a need to repeatedly show up at my work crying, beaten, and looking like a skeleton. When I tried to help or even comfort her, she would snap at me viciously. I had to tell her to get out of my life, even though I love her and miss the person she used to be so much. I still see her around, usually with different dirty looking guys who are most likely giving her meth for doing God-knows-what.

Things like that can make you want to rain fire on existence. Especially when you have a job that forces you to be fake and pretend to like people so you can make money. Being an artist, I'm naturally passionate about things beautiful or terrible. I began feeling hot rage boiling inside me, and tried to cool or hide it however I could. I dated a really nice girl for a short while, but something inside me couldn't stand her. I was in a very depressed state of mind and tried very hard not to show it, but she identified it and was trying desperately to make me talk about it. I refused to admit I wasn't OK, and it broke us apart pretty quick. Alcohol, and more drugs were like a fresh block of ice for my anger. Not a choice but a necessity, like oxygen. Painkillers take away all the hurt, all the sadness. For three hours I'll feel nothing but love. I had no will to draw anything or write music like I used to, a very bad thing if that's your mode of expression.

I spent all my money on whatever I could. Drugs, dining out, clothes, toys, and especially car performance and stereo components. Trying to fill a void with material things is a dark, lonely path. The only thing I really love and trust is my car. It's very sad, because it's only temporary and it's not alive. I care for it by cleaning and maintaining it meticulously, and it returns the love every time I drive it. It's not even a very high-end car, but I feel so much intense rage and red hot aggression released whenever I push it to it's limits. It's corny, but this is my only functional outlet. The more powerful it becomes, the more powerful it makes me feel and the more I want to expand those limits. Just like drugs, I pour money under the hood and it's never enough. It's not enough to fix me. Inside I feel burned to a crisp.

I also had a two-faced manager try to fuck me over. He made a big mistake one day and found a way to pin it on me, so I was demoted from assistant manager to salesman and sent to another store 45 minutes away. This guy was also a friend before this happened. Only a year older than me, he was just promoted and placed in my store (where I had been among the top 5 salesmen in the company for a year and a half). He opened an hour late on one of my days off (forgot his key) and freaked out because he was a new manager. Instead of taking the heat and risking demotion, he actually altered my schedule to make it look like my day to open!! Fucking rat bastard. Not long after, he was fired for other shit, and I was sent back and re-promoted to A.M. But our company was failing, not shipping us any product for months. I was selling decks and amps off our display boards, and trying to explain to customers why we didn't have any of the shit Tweeter had. My commission paychecks were about half of what they normally were, and my attitude was shit. Plus I had a new fat manager CONSTANTLY breathing down my neck. One day, the day before I turned 23, I exploded. He was on my case for some utter bullshit. Not filling out his timecard for him- no joke. In front of a $3000 customer, I heartily denounced him, the company, our installers' work, and ripped the phone off the wall before I walked the fuck out. I had a raging good birthday party for 48 hours, and started smoking ciggies again.

I didn't work for a month. My Christmas was a most depressing event, and my money was depleting quickly on Skyy Vodka supply. Every time I met a girl, my defenses would go up and I'd get a familiar flash of pain in my chest, like a reminder from my heart not to trust, to stay away. On New Years Eve, I went downtown to E Street Alley, a nice San Diego trance club, and ate a 40mg Oxycontin. Mmmm. It was actually a great night, something happened that brightened things up for me. When the clock hit midnight and the balloons dropped, some random drunk chick jumped on me from left field and practically mauled me. She had her tongue in my mouth and I couldn't see her right away, but I complied. After a good 30 seconds, I got a look at her and she was quite a decent-looking girl. Couldn't hear her name over the music, but it made me feel better. She didn't know who I was or how much money I had- she just wanted sexual attention, and must've thought I was cute. That's the type of girl I can relate to.

So here I am now, working at a desk again, feeling somewhat better. I left my old house, I was living with a dope dealer who's contagiously-fucked up. I haven't been going out at night or getting loaded at all, which is very difficult for me. I also quit smoking cigs again, and took up team canoe paddling on Sundays. I'm just trying to find a way to feel sane so I can figure out how to make my talents work for me.

<P ID="signature">"Parental Advisoly!"</P>
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