My life... with neurological disorder, and drug abuse

My life... with neurological disorder, and drug abuse

travisw111

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Still alive, sort of. Here's a chapter from my novel i'm writing:	[Mar. 24th, 2006\|09:00 am]
Goodbye Blue Sky - A novel by Travis Wilson Chapter 1 The Essential Art of Escapism “Sing me to sleep, Sing me to sleep, I’m tired and I... I want to go bed, Sing me to sleep, sing me sleep And then leave me alone, Don't try to wake me in the morning, because I will be gone Don’t feel bad for me, I want you to know, Deep within the cell of my heart I will feel so glad to go, There is another world, there is a better world, Ohh ohh... there must be Ohh oh... there must be Ohh oh... there must be Ohhhh oh.... Asleep –The Smiths The winter hit Seattle with an icy vengeance, as if Mother Nature had grown tired of its rape by mankind and had decided to throw it’s wrath upon us. The showers of ice-cold rain persuaded most of the populace, including myself, on Birch Street, to stay inside. I myself was among one of the people cozy inside my cramped studio apartment. I watched the falling rain, while my head was in the clouds from 8mg of intravenous Dilaudid. I needed it to escape this season which also seemed to manifest itself in my personality. I needed it to function. I knew the holiday’s depressed most people but I didn’t know how many people just wanted to say “Fuck it all,’ and gun down Santa Claus and all of his reindeer in front of the horrified faces of all the children watching the blood, tissue, and miscellaneous organ pieces within the fallout. I wanted complete escape from the sickening holiday spirit, or death. I’ve always chosen escape, no matter what shape it took on. Most people don’t know it, but escape is an art form much like painting. It involves skill, grace, and the tools in which to operate. I wanted to constantly make masterpieces, and I often did. Pharmacology was my trade, and drugs were the tools of my peculiar art form. I approached the living room window with a blistering euphoria and I proceeded to look out the window. There was nothing but the horrible rain still, coming down to cleanse the corrupt streets that housed all the secrets of human nature. I closed the blinds, and dizzy with an unbalanced central nervous system from drug interception, I faced the living room. And I saw her. I saw her. Her. The woman who looked just like a flower upon a grave. The woman whose dark blonde hair texture gave me goose bumps, the first time I saw her. Dawn Frelette, my former bereaved. Dawn was standing there by my couch, with the outfit she wore when I had found her, without a breath left in her. She was smiling, in a deep seductive grasp and raping me with her eyes. Ash tray red eyes. Was it my imagination, or was it real? That was the question, that jolted through my brain’s synapses, and which couldn’t cut through the layer of fear. I gasped at this sight, which happend to be sitting on my recliner chair now. I couldn’t utter a word. They escaped me. I desperately ran to my pristinely clean bathroom with internal fear in desperate pursuit. I opened the rickety door ajar of the bathroom mirror with abandon, and crashed it behind me with the same emotion as its opening. The contents I snagged were two ampoules of Valium and a syringe. I took the syringe, loaded up 50mg of liquid, injected the Valium and felt its force crush down on my GABA receptors with great relief. After I took the syringe out, I realized the pain that I had caused to my vein… I had forgotten that Valium is supposed to be injected slowly because of too much alcohol. It worked, I was calm, and the benzodiazepines did the trick. I went back and the room and was relieved that she wasn't there. I surveyed my surroundings of my whole apartment and there was nothing. Nothing but my lost soul. I thanked the benzodiazepine gods that I had not seen her again, that ghastly image that I had not seen for years. This reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe's poem, except without the annoying squawking crow. No rapping on the door either, just full one-to-one eye contact with a dead person. Very Normal… even this sight would make Poe scream, even if he had taken all the Laudanum and all of the absinthe in England at the time. Oh and it’s great how to remember how it ends, with the observer digging his own grave. Sort of like me. I lit up a cigarette, inhaled it's vigorous and poisonous perfume, and exhaled the carbon dioxide and tar from my lungs. With my shaky left hand, I picked up the loaded syringe I had left on my couch table for my nightly fix and delighted myself with the touch of it grip. It was way too early to take it, with my schedule, but I did it anyway. I put my cigarette into the ashtray and left it to its own devices. I took off my belt, and wrapped it around my left arm. I hit my vein, and rubbed it to get it warm and to make it dilate. I took the syringe, and performed the great act. The syringe hit the subcutaneous membranes of my skin, pierced them swiftly and delved into the microcosm of my vein. The process had become one of an automaton now… injecting the sweetly sick and bitter venom of the opiod into my open vessel, and now it was so easy that it had become like a daily chore that one always does, without consciousness of the actions. The syringe filled with a small punned bit of dark red blood. It had registered. I felt the awkward grip of my posturing, and held tightly to the syringe to keep everything balanced. I induced my attitude from sharply apathetic to brashly active, injected the Diamorphine into the microcosm of my blood stream, and I sharply cackled to the world disintegrating around me. A deep and orgasmic-like euphoria touched me again, and I sighed with relief. How could I ever live without this? How could anyone in this sick and demented world live without the pleasure of the poppy? Who is Is it now rapping at my door? Can it be the sweet voice of my long lost Eleanor? I tried to make myself laugh, but my chemical absolution had dredged my senses into a muddy jumble. Nothing was going to come out, and I guess it was lucky for me. Just as long as there wasn’t another specter… of her. I thought of Dawn, and almost immediately I felt my narcotic euphoria dissipate, into absolute nothingness. What the hell was this? I tried to escape back into euphoria, but I couldn’t, my opiate receptors weren’t responding to my brain. I ran back and grabbed two more Dilaudid 4mg pills, mixed them with water until they dissolved, threw a filter in the mix, took the same syringe I’d used, and sucked it up and injected it as fast as I could. Nothing happened. Nothing. What the hell is going on??? I cried. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t handle this, I needed my escape. I didn’t know what to do. I cranked my stereo on, and flushed my system with some vitamins. I was face to face with the black abyss, which I had managed to escape all these years. And now it had seized upon me. I was awash in a state of shock and in frenzy state of panick. I tried to calm myself down, but even the Valium coursing through my GABA receptors wasn't working any more. I had no where to escape to, and only the darkside of myself, my id, to keep me company. I continued to wipe off tears, as I layed myself down on the couch and tried to rest. That was my only possibility of escape now... to sleep. I turned on and cranked the stereo, and listened to Nirvana unplugged. Hours seemed to pass by, in my state of collective shock. Eventually, I miraculously fell into a deep, black, vacuum of sleep, with tears dried upon my face and with two empty ampoules of Valium next to my couch. END
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I have Lyme Disease and Morgellons disease	[Sep. 13th, 2005\|09:59 am]
I have had the luxury of getting a multi-parasitic, incurable disease, known as Morgellons disease. On top of that I have Lyme Disese which explains everything that has happened to my brain and my lack of energy(I have chronic fatigue syndrome, from both diseases), and I now have the beginning stage of Fibromyalgia caused by Lyme Disease. If you want to know about the sci-fi horror nightmare that is Morgellons disease, then feel free to go to the main site at www.Morgellons.com . Check out the forums to read all the cool things like morphing hairs, cotton white and black postules popping out of peoples skin, and all sorts of neat physical and mental trauma that i've endured for the past 8 months. I now have insectphobia, agoraphobia, and a lot more if only I knew some more latin abbreviations. Easily caused by the amount of shock my psyche has been put into from this disease that is otherworldly. This is not something natural, this is manmade folks, probably by the good ol' USofA. Hey kids! From the same people who brought you the Gulf Syndrome, now present to you Morgellons, a new biological warfare study that our government has launched on our own people! Have fun with it! Just don't go and committ suicide junior, that'll screw up all their neat and tidy data that they'll probably collect from the Morgellon sufferers, all about the amount of physical and mental trauma and psychological illnesses that develop from people having to cope with this horror show. Oh wait, that's probably some useful data so go ahead and kill yourself, one more number on another one of their charts. Wait, you mean to tell me that Saddamn Hussein didn't have weapons of mass destruction and we invaded his country just so the people in power could profit and gain yet more of that corrupting power? And that we sent our troops to die for no cause whatsoever, and all the innoncent indigenous people who lived their? Sorry timmy, but it's true, run along and go pursue those lustful materialistic desires, they'll make you happy! Just do that, and you can also block out that decaying world of evil surrounding all your cool gadgets, that hide at every corner, by voting in a useless election that decides who gets to jack-off the real people in power, and the real people who run the government. Go on now, run Timmy, life is so much funner now that our government has destroyed every single amount of privacy we have, and raped our constitution. Go on and play with spot the dog, but be careful, he might have a new, ultra-cool biological weapon that was tested on him by our government to most definitely protect us right? Just be careful about touching those tentacles coming out of him Timmy. Ah shit, I warned you Timmy, now your dead and you can't enjoy this wonderful life we live in the grand old USA. The land of the slaves, home of the sadists and satanists. Every heart beats true for the black, red, and death colored nation we live in. Fuck America, I spit on the flag. It used to represent something a little less evil, but now it represents everything that is wrong with life, all tidied together in one big fuckfest orgy of chaos. Fuck you Bush, and your father who payed your way through college you fucking retard. Why don't you go back to the 6th grade so you can be with people at the same learning level as you, huh? Oh, that's right, you have lot's of money, and due to that, now lots of power so you can get away with murder, at which count must be in the millions, eh? Go sit in the chair with the dunce cap you fucking sadistic evil bastard; I don't even think you know what sadistic means, so i'm sorry for using big words. Wouldn't want to fry any more of your useless brain cells. But your a pawn anyway, who gives a fuck about you. It's all about that higher level of government that the public never sees, but always feels right? Go ahead and dance like a puppet to their demonic tune, write some new bills that won't be read at all, but will pass through the system, non-the-less. Go with that "fuck the constitution, we're republicans and we don't give a shit about some old ass decaying document that represents what America was founded on" idea that you had with the Patriotic Act, some more. I think that there still may be some of our unalienable rights that haven't been alienated, or alienated enough yet. Come on! We love to watch car accidents, what makes you think we don't love watching this country turn into a deathly black hue of destruction and oblivion? Et fucking phone home.
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Suicide is painless?	[Jan. 11th, 2005\|02:42 pm]
I've been in a completely bland, narcassistic state for about a month now. Lethargy, apathy, mood swings. I've examined the possibilties of suicide. For me to commit suicide, it would be euthanasia. I've been dead for years. I'll have to wait until I get some more Heroin though, which will be awhile. I think i'll need 3 $20 balloons. Probably need to get a 3cc syringe.. don't have a clue how I going to be able to work the plunger on that. Then I just push the needle in, push the plunger down, and await my new afterlife. Probably in hell. I really wish Christianity hadn't made such huge strides to becoming one of the most popular religions. Why couldn't we have more forms of natural, earth based religion and stoic, buddhist religions and have them widely accepted? Anyway, this journal is pretty much through I guess. I have nothing important to say, and never have had anything important to say. I live my life like a greek tragedy, living through an endless barrage of events that trigger me to delve deeper into an almost infinite universe of depression and torment. When I become death, death shall be the seed from which I grow
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A long awaited update

[Dec. 18th, 2004|09:25 pm]

[	Current Mood	\|	content	]
[	Current Music	\|	Nirvana - Do Re Mi	]

So this is my December; not only the month that exists in a year, but the atmosphere of snowfrost and grey shades that cover whats left of my gloomy soul. Uh oh, i'm turning into a cheesy, melodramatic goth now.

These stupid Darvocets that the doc gave me for my prostate pain DON'T FUCKING WORK and make me loopy as hell. Not to mention dizzy and drowsy. I fell over two fucking times. When I asked him for something stronger, with less side-effects(like Tylenol 3, mind you, which is still very mild)he basically told me to fuck off... just not in those exact words. He knew that I had abused Heroin since he treated my infected arm. Yes, yes, I sucked so much that I botched up an intravenous injection of black tar and got a subcutaneous injection. Whatever they cut it with sure as hell wasn't very healthy. So it swelled up, and I couldn't move it without immense pain. It got really hot and gave me a fever. So the doc gave me antibiotics, and of course no pain meds thank you very much. I had to call him back to ask for pain meds for my goddamn prostate problems too. Fuck you Dr. Mansolo, I hope you get in a car wreck and feel immense pain that you can't get help for, and have to live with it for a few fucking days. Anyway i'm done ranting. The basic point is, that most doctors stress that PAIN SHOULD BE DEALT WITH FIRST, and then the possiblity of dependence. You always treat the pain first and ask questions later. Some doctors don't obey this nowadays with the Oxycontin scare and they're fucking assholes in most cases.

I moved out the apartment about two months previously. It was going well for awhile. But then my roomates and I started indulging more and more into drugs and it turned ugly, like it always does with the rotten fruit of excess. I got to the point where I couldn't get a job, I had no money to support my two ballons a day drug habit(ballons cost fucking $15 in Austin, and that's if you know someone well enough. If you're an outsider they cost $20.. what a gyp). So I moved back into my mom's house and went through withdrawal. I had sold most of my Adderall(90 10mgs per month)and most of my Klonopin(120 1mg's a month), so I had to withdrawal from those two. Think how fun it is to withdrawal from uppers, downers, and opiates at the same time. Then think about stepping on a rusty nail a few hundred times and getting lockjaw. That begins to describe the mental pain. The physical pain is cold sweats from hell, horrible aching joints, diahhrea that takes 6 Immodiums to cure, and being unable to do anything while wanting to do something because you're so bored and weak. But I'm 8 weeks sober now. And I feel like my dopamine, seratonin, and my endorphins have returned to normal finally. I realized that I can't trust myself on Opiates. I can handle other drugs(yah yah, most NA people will tell you that drug addicts will get addicted to other drugs but that is not true)fine. When I don't sell my Adderall and Klonopin I use them exactly how i'm supposed to. I hardly ever drink alcohol, and I hate drinking more than two drinks and I fucking hate getting drunk. Alcohol is a shitty ass drug, I have no clue why it's so sociable.

I'm going to ACC for Spring quarter. I want to transfer to UT, and soon. I don't know yet what I want to major in, but I want to major in something in Liberal Arts. I was thinking of psychology. No, not becoming a Doctor but maybe becoming a addiction counselor. But basically I want to help people. I was also thinking of Civil Rights, or joing the Peace Core. I just feel a need to start helping people, since all of my life i've taken and never given back. I need to balance my karma.

So anyone going to ACC around here? I'll be at the Northridge and Cypress campuses each week and it would be cool to meet a live journal user.

Anyway, I love ya guys and i'm thankful for your support. I've stopped doing the bad things which was the only way I could support my drug habit and I feel much better not having to bury the ever increasing guilt, and using Heroin to escape from it. I'm going to write a huge story about my experiences, loosely based on them of course for my Composition 2 class. It will be called "The Essential Art of Escapism." Sounds catchy eh? I figure if I write well enough that the teacher might find that I have some talent and encourage me to write more. My dream was always to become an author. There is nothing greater than reading a book that changes your philosophy of life, or that enriches your life.

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Positive entry for once?	[Aug. 4th, 2004\|12:37 pm]
I had an online friend that I haven't talked to in a long time that just came out of the blue and asked me how I was doing, which always a nice thing. I remember rattling on, and on, about my misery to him heh. But there are some good things I mentioned to him. I quit H for the time being, i'm going to see a neurologist and figure out what the fuck is wrong with my damaged brain, i'm going to go back to school and actually try this time, and i'm determined to get out of this hellhole of Texas and become independant. It's going to be a slow climb, but it's either a slow climb up, or a fast drop back to the bottom. And i'm just afraid that when I bottom out this time, i'll end up doing something I regret. I'm going to try and be optimistic for once, but I usually end up wishing for some kind of Deus Ex Machina, to just come along and change my life for the better and never take matters into my own hands. I will sweat blood if I have to this time, i've layed in stasis long enough. It's time for that horrible word... change. As for the Valium, i've replaced my Klonopin with it, and it seems to work better for the anxiety. I'm afraid to mention it to the doctor, since it's sort of a taboo, even though it's so closely related to Clonazepam. I have no idea where the negative rap came from, the only other benzo with the worse rap is Xanax(well rohypnol, but it's banned.. for retarded reasons, but that's another story), but for good reason. It's damn fast half-life is not a good thing for some people, and can cause rebound anxiety, and not to mention using it habitually which is a completely diffferent monster than using something long lasting like Clonazepam or Diazepam. So i'm going to take pharm. tech. classes even though i'm certified. I just need them so I can have hands on experience, and then maybe finally land a job. And then maybe, finally get the fuck out of dodge. I should be dopey and create some sort of cliched, simple mantra, like "I will succeed," but i'm cliched out at the moment. I'm a walking, talking cliche. Too afraid to confront my fears, so I hide away, and escape. Then I make excuses for my behavior, which leads me deeper into a dependency for escape, and into deeper psychosis. It's the oldest cliche in the book, and i'm departing from it, just like I would depart from this town... as fast as humanly fucking possible
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So my mother is a hypocrite	[Aug. 3rd, 2004\|11:58 pm]
Anyway, myself, having been certified as a pharmacy technician and being knolwedgeable about drugs, you would think my mother would hesitate when she interferes with conversations about them. I ordered some Valium awhile ago, and when they came in the mail she said she threw them away, which I doubted. She knows i'm on Clonazepam, which is so similar to Valium, that it's uncanny. I just wanted to see if they worked better without going through the hassle of a doctor, and avoiding the damn $65 appointment to seem him, while I could just buy 100 10mg Roche Valiums for $45. So before she told me this, I had thought they were picked up by customs. So I asked for the person to reship them. He did, and I vehemently checked the mail everyday, except for one day when I was sick. And wouldn't you know it, it showed up on that day. And yes, my mother said that once again she threw them away. This has happened before. I got two prescriptions of Vicodin, when I was 13, and being a oblivious at the time to the euphoria of opiates, I didn't need them at the time. She took them both, and they were never to be seen again. I've ordered Codeine, Dihydocodeine, and Glutethimide, all which have been scorned and stolen by my mother... except for the Glutethimide which I hastily got into my room, and told her it was no business of hers. Even with the various legalities of ordering these things, the fact still remains that they belong to me, and even though I reside in her household, it doesn't give her the right to take them away and then use them herself. It would be like me taking her medication. Anyway, this leads me to the search for the Valiums, since in no way she would get rid of medication or so i've been lead to believe. She has a locked cabinet, which seemed like a better idea than going through the trash. So I picked it.. strangely enough with a small key. I managed to jam in it up and down fast enough, to put the tumblers in place. Very brute method, but it worked. And what did I find? Both envelopes, with all the valium in them. I took 8 packs, out of the 20 which made it look like it was normal. But i'm still at a loss of 120 valiums, that belong to me. As soon as I can get a job in this scummy town, I guess I can reclaim what's mine... and it'll be all in due time I guess. I still want to get my neurodisorder diagnosed, and I want to go back to college to get a decent technical certificate. But for the time being i'm trapped here, everyday. I can't drive to look for jobs, I don't have any friends that can truly help me, and everything else is fucked. So suicide always seems like a viable option. Maybe i'll get some barbituates and own up to my fate, that has already been sealed. Or maybe some generous soul will come along and kill me. Look on the bright side/suicide, Lost eyesight/i'm on your side, Angel left wing, right wing/broken wing, Lack of iron/ And or sleeping.
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A super happy funtime poem!

[Aug. 1st, 2004|10:18 am]

[

Current Mood

lonely

]

I see the most perfect blue, shrieking eyes
contained through the tint of melancholy,
The outside is draped in pure white, without a hue or clarity,
the eyes can only focus on the endless winter volley

It's sad to see your beautiful, untamed highness again,
When I had already told you that it was the end
But I am too weak to resist this tryst,
I will casually let you back into this relationship of remiss

I'm haunted by the serenity of this place,
too soft, too warm, too much space
Keep me here, and I will reason why,
Another unintentioned hell that you thought I could try

There will be no peace in this reconciled romance,
because we both know love is suicide
I'm too ashamed to admit that I chanced,
to attain a level of intimacy this high

I'm bored by your misunderstood tears,
Trying to mean more than what you could just hear
Eventually you shall fly away like the rest,
And I will aspire to never again seek something like this

Your bitter exit has now forced me to walk in the past,
Seemingly, I always knew it would come to this
I must now forcefully cling onto my reality,
These painful and forgotten memories leave no room for sanity

Escape is just a cubic centimeter of force away,
An illusion of a permanent solution is too swaying to my mind
Cast common sense to the side, and opiated I will be, only to be cast astray.
Free to feel pleasure, and this blissful stasis, until it crashes down another day

The blistering sweat will keep me at pace,
running through the numbing feel and the numbing taste
of the bitter pills and bloodied syringes,
that now lay upon what my whole life hinges

Lethargy continues to bite through my seemingly endless time,
Empty gestures continued without a reason or rhyme
There are no more bridges to burn, or people to blame,
I can now live in this isolation, with everything tame

I crack a crooked smile, because this is what I wanted all along,
Yet something nags me, and sets the mood uncalm
Staring out of my melancholy clouded eyes, I can finally cast aside the blinding agony,
And I can finally see what is right and what went wrong

In the mirror it shows another,
Oh mirror, what do I see before me?
A shadow of once someone true,
But dormant was another, the one that now stands before you

I lay dead awake, within dreamscapes of sorrow
only having the energy to hope for a better tomorrow
Bleed I must to see the truth,
in order to open the scar, to procure the proof

Now in the mirror I can finally see what is real,
A demon of hideous creation being what is revealed
I must destroy the foulness of this beast,
I must tear it apart piece by piece
Even if I must murder the nature of it's whole,
The self of my own, my fallen soul

Some may brood and ponder what it is,
To feel the most perfect melancholy
Drain your soul to feed the meek,
The truth is not for you to seek

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A vital update	[Jul. 9th, 2004\|01:56 am]
Here I am, the crooks of my arms looking like they were fishooked and with three empty prescription bottles staring at me, with a look of pale death on my face... all the while i'm walking in the past. Trying to find in which dream the truths and memories are stored. I went back to Washington for 10 days, in an effort to visit my everchanging friends, and to visit my father and grandfather, the latter who is dying of cancer. My father and my cousin were the only ones that knew anything about the theft charges against me, and it had been my father's idea to come along to Washington. My cousin wanted to come up for a week to Ausin, and it ended up hurting our friendship in the end. I enjoyed myself in Washington, even though I could see it. I was a different person. I felt as if I awoke from a coma, come awake from a stasis, and everything had changed. All my friends were now successful, gainful employees, with deeper committments than I had realized could ever exist. I am walking in the past, spinning through these dreamscapes so vast. I payed a visit to only one friend, that lasted only a few hours. The other 3 I wanted to(or didn't want to, who knows?)pay a visit to, never materialized. Have I burned all my bridges? I came back to Austin, and my cousin saw my other side in complete clarity. I become a miserable wreck when I am here it seems. I refused to do H while he was here, but I did it the day I left for Washington, and the day after he left for Washington. The first day was awful, we needed to rent a car and my cousin being the stubborn one had refused to get one in advance. We could've gotten my dad to rent it in his name, for half the price. But his stubborness was repayed in full when we realized that being under 25 meant that it doubled the price of rented autos. He didn't seem to care that we needed this auto, all the while my brain was scrambling. We had my 6 year old nephew there, trying to find the cheapest price so we could rent an auto to go to my hearing. I finally made a deal to pay him half, $120, which I later realized was a mistake for a 3 day rental. The hearing was sobbering, to find that justice isn't issued as a solitaire thing, it's an orgy of judiciary guilt, and fear. I was packed in with 60 other people, and had to wait.... to the very end as everyone else was given there chance to admit a plea. That took a few hours, with my cousin waiting in our $240 POS rental. Him seemingly unpurterbed when I first went up to the car, to only tell him I had to wait longer. I went back, pleaded no contest, and waited and hoped for a well-adjusted prosecutor to look at my file. Luckily he reduced my misdemeanor to Class C, and issued me court fines. I walked back to my friend, who had waited patiently for hours, and now it dawned on me that it should of just been me to go. He seeemed ragged, and impatient. But, I had to wait for the judge, and hope that she wouldn't overturn my Class C reduction. I waited in searing pain for another hour, and finally breathed relief as I found out that it was still Class C. I owe the courts $256, and have to pay the first part of it in 15 more days. Which angered me about getting the car. After all of that, my friend got in angry mode, which almost got us killed when he started driving. We were both in bad moods, but he shouldn't of expected me to warm up to him after he scared me with his violent ass temper. The next few days I shrugged him off, not wanting to hang around his attitude. We went to 6th street on Friday, in Austin, which I only agreed to, because I needed it as a front to pickup some Heroin. Imagine picking it up, with your friend in the oblivious mode, and then leaving it in your car for hours, in a parking lot, while your friend got piss drunk. I was operating on stress and parnoia that night, and it didn't help that in only one hour my friend got piss drunk. He wandered around to 4 clubs, and we got denied access to each one of them. He talked and bumped into everyone that passed, being in that happy drunk state that he loved to occupy. It only made me nasausoeus. He finally got into the backstage of this trashy rockband, by convincing the friends of the band(roadies whatever)that he held a small level job with a record studio in Seattle. It all smells of fiction, but it was the truth. I just wanted out of there, but he wanted to score with some "hoes" as he put it. So I had to lead his drunk ass to as close as a B-line as I could, back to the car, fearing that he could be arrested and the car would be towed. We got back, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I found the box with the stuff in it still there. He left with bad feelings, and I didn't care. It was a mess. The H I got that night has been distributed among the crooks in my arm, and a few other veins I managed to hit near my wrists. I managed to hit an artery, which luckily nothing came of it. I don't know how that happened, but it scared me until I popped it into another vein, and got my opiate oblivion. 20cc's of arterial blood had gone in with the mix, ooh boy that was hard trying to find that sweet black blood vein but I did it. Now the H is gone, just like the H from three weeks ago. I'm in minor withdrawal, being in the lazy depressed mode, and wondering why I didn't take the easy way out and just jam all the H into one syringe. Remove these stupid people who take pity on me, and take me as a burden to carry. I wish I could just say goodbye, and tell them not to follow. I will be my own end it seems. I can't see why life is such a gift, such a blessing. It's a curse, and for this curse I feel blessed.
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Wow, too much happening.	[Jun. 19th, 2004\|02:52 am]
I'm on a giant cocktail of 2mg of Clonazepam, 10mg of Adderall, and 40-45 or cc's of good ol' mexican tar H. Anyway, since I haven't posted in awhile I thought I would mention that I actual met REAL friends. Not the low life types that I had met before. These people are normal, they hold jobs, are nice, and extremely intelligent, but they like to indulge in drugs just like me. I could spend hours talking to them. Anyway, they have been the first two people I could truly call friends since i've gotten down here. Julie and Mark, ahh such great people. I have opiate bliss glasses on, but I don't exaggerate when I say that they have been nothing but super nice to me, welcomed me into their apartment whenever I felt like going to get away from my mom, gave me tons of vital information about criminal law and shared their awesome connection with me too. People like this are very rare, i'm so glad I found them. So we've hung out, talked mostly about drugs, since the conversations of drugs can get so interesting when you delve into the philosophy, chemistry, politics, and other topics. And I think we mostly talk about drugs, because we all feel accepted in this circle, and only in circles like these and can't talk about it to anyone else. Heroin is a complete taboo in our culture. Same with Crack, Meth, and other drugs. My veins are bruised, but I used the same ones too much. Luckily a tip they taught me tonight, showed me how to use the veins near the wrist on the forearm, and I nailed the shot the second try... while barely even seeing my shallow veins. Ah heroin, the sweet temptress is back. I have no more, and desire no more, and went through a gram in a few days. So it looks like i'm in the clear. I'm going to Washington tomorrow, to visit my best friends, my dad, and my dying grandpa. Very sobering to tell them about my mental illness, I still haven't told my other two best friends yet, let alone talked to them in at least 6-7 months. Me and my friend are going to jam around when I get here, which is cool since i've written so many songs that go unsung since I can't sing in key. My friend has the deepest voice of anyone i've known, if he got vocal training he could be a great vocalist and hit those vocal notes I need in my songs. I'm getting $400 probably monday, what shall I invest in? More drugs, guitar equipment, and computer equipment? Who knows, but I still owe Mark and Julie $50 which they have not even said a single word to me about, even though it's been so long without paying. Now those are true friends. Heh, i'm so high that i'm probably going to embarrass myself if Julie reads this. Ah well Meanwhile, i'm facing the trial on the 31st and Walmart has threatened me, by forcing me to pay $175 or they'll sue me for additional charges. Typical. I only have 15 days to pay, hah, very typical. I already have the criminal case in which I will have to pay a fine up to $1000, and now they want me to face up to the same consequences again. Walmart can lick my oily diahhrea. The company, in terms of morals, is beneath me... a junkie loser. They thrive on undercutting other businesses, paying their workers poverty wages, with the worst medical benefits i've ever seen(which forces them to rely on the government for medical funding), all the while showing how great it is that they're giving so many people jobs. They forgot to mention that they may make 100 jobs, but they're taking away 150 jobs each time, and then replacing the payrate to poverty wages and awful medical coverage. Ahh, enough about Walmart. I just want to sink into this opiate oblivion... to feel closer to the womb... the most comfortable place of nirvana. But i've eaten the sun, so my tongue has been burnt of the taste. Never again will I feel the great highs from the natural tolerance buildup. So you tell me, am I improving? What do I mean by improving anyway? Am I happier? Yes I am. Is happiness what life is all about? Nah, life is about the balance between pain and pleasure, between happiness and complete sadness. I just want to be neutral, just numb. Is there ever a way?
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My story, a fragment of it	[Jun. 10th, 2004\|12:47 am]
This is a story I wrote yesterday, in about an hour or two. Just thought I would share it From my limited intelligence, and observation, I have found there to be three kinds of people inhabiting this earth. Those who find complete desire in life, who slave away at work, who seemingly, in my opinon, run through a maze looking for cheese without realizing the maze itself. But they know that the cheese is worth every obstacle they are jumping through, even if they don't know what the cheese represents. Is it wealth? Is it well-being? Is it something else? Then there are the people that are content to tread the water of life, trying not to drown, but seemingly unable to find something desirable or prosperous in life that would pull them out of the waves. I believe these people to be the ones that usually hold no desire, and get by on minimum wage jobs due to lack of education. Then there are people like myself, the people who just want to fucking escape. After prying over the thoughts, I managed to drag myself out of bed. I felt the symptoms as soon as my foot touched the cold floor. I felt them like a secret syringe bite. Some minor joint pain, intense stomach pain with naseua, crazy blue depression, and something else that needed taken care of immediatly. I rushed to the bathroom in the nick of time, put down the dirty toilet bowl, and let loose my intestinal agony with a tirade of god-awful diahhrea. There is nothing more sobbering than to be sitting on a toilet bowl, with your diseased smelling fecal matter attacking your olfactory sense, reminding that you are, in a way, toxic. I cleaned up, and decided it was high time to get to my immodium supply. I took 10, and prayed to the bowel gods that it would take effect before my intestines decided that it needed to blast anything else out. I didn't think the prayer would work, because i'm a crazy agnostic and have probably managed to curse every Roman, Greek, and miscellanous god there ever was at least 100 times. I decided to stay close to the bathroom. I sat down on my bed and tried to figure out where I was in the terms of withdrawal stages. I was in the minor withdrawal stage, I figured. No more cold-sweats, I could eat, I could sleep, I didn't crave opiates, and I felt, in a certain way, better... even with the current symptoms. Well I did crave opiates, but everyone that has had a habit craves opiates. I felt lethargy bearing down on me, and decided to lay down until I knew my ass was safe from those little outbursts of joy. I daydreamed of a place of sunshine, a place of pure idealistic peace. I daydreamed of a girl, that could change my life. A friend, a lover, a soulmate. With shiny blonde hair, blue soul-sparkling eyes with the girl next-doorlook... pure, innoncent, and cute. I never cared for the skinny, big boobs stereotype and would never actually date a girl like that... heh, as if I had a chance. And I daydreamed of that perfect place, with the perfect girl for at least an hour. It helped the depression, just to escape into daydreaming. Suddenly I had another stomach attack. It wasn't my bowels, it was something new that had started happening about a year ago. The attacks would cause intense pain for a minute or so, and go away as if nothing happened. But then it slowly started lasting longer and increasing pain over the months which started to I figured it was an ulcer. It shot like lightning, and I just curled up, not being able to face this awful pain. It felt like my stomach had been ripped open from the inside. I started crying... because of the pain or because of the current fairs, I do not know. My junky mind came into full form in the midst of the pain. "You could go to the emergency room and get opiates galore! Theres no way they could refuse you in this condition, this pain is too incredible to not warrant a little opiate satisfaction. Come on Travis! Let's go! It'll be so easy." I fought my junkie mind as much as I could in this state of pain, but I gave in so easily that I could swear my junky mind laughed at my poor excuse for self control. I got up, clutching my stomach and waded through my disaster of a room and into the kitchen. I grabbed the keys, and something in my stomach decided it would be wise to add to the pain by starting to evacute my stomachs contents. I ran back into the bathroom, still rotting of my filth, cursed the porcelain gods, and proceeded to heave out everything that my evil stomach had requested. I looked into the bowl, and for the first time in awhile I was scared. It was all blood. I stared into the mirror. There was blood running down my cheek. For a long time, through the bad times, and the even more worse times, I had never recognized who looked back from the reflection in a mirror, but now I could see who it was. It was a weak, scared person who didn't know what to do. Now it wasn't even a question of getting opiates, I needed to get into the hospital. (Haven't filled in yet because it would take too long, so i'll go over the plot: He goes to the hospital, gets diagnosed with stomach cancer(gee whiz, what a spoiler!), which is in a very late stage. They will find that the cancer has already spread to the lymph nodes and to the liver and pancreas, and will remove a lot of his stomach. The character will be put on chemotherapy, on drugs, and live in the hospital for a few weeks. Maybe make a friend, etc etc. The doctor will eventually tell him that he is 99% sure that he is terminal. The main character will not want to know when he could die, and doesn't even care about his soon coming mortality. The doctor gives him big script of Dilaudid and Xanax for the pain and anxiety, and lets him take his leave back to his house but wants him to continue chemotherapy on the off chance the cancer could go into remission and that he would live longer. The character drives back to the hospital the next day, but instead of going in, he heads off onto the highway.. down I-5 to chase his daydreams. He stops off when his junkie mind comes into his head, to check his prescription) I got off the highway at a rest-stop, not being able to refuse my junkie self. Now it comes to this. A bottle with 90 4mg Dilaudids and a burning in my soul. Why do I try and resist this siren call? Am I afraid of the pain that is to come, or am I afraid to shut myself off from the world even more than I have throughout my life? Opiates are all consuming, and maybe I would like to find something like them without the bite, without the sickly sweet intoxication and remorse. Maybe I could escape... not by drugs, but flee this godforsaken town and find a pure escape. That's when I completely made up my mind and decided to head down I-5. To where? I did not know, the information was stored in my dreams. I needed to flee, I needed a fleeting moment to take away that craving for emotional numbness. For opiate oblivion. For an emotional painkiller. For that goddamn script that kept tempting me to surrender to the bitter mistress. I started my car back up, and forced any junkie thoughts out of my head. I would need those pills for pain, I could not waste them, and I could not throw myself into another opiate oblivion. Not now, not in this terminal stage of my life. I wanted to free myself from this environment of gloom, and from my own problems from this cursed city of Seattle. When I got back on the freeway and started driving, I felt an endorphin rush that nearly equaled a minor opiate high. Maybe this was a sign, or maybe it was just an ironic statement. I hit I-5 with a vengeance. Soothing music was all I could use to calm my strangely raging dopamine and endorphins. The fact was, that I was loving this. Maybe there was something at the end of my journey, something tangible, with or without a shape. Something pure, some meaning to life. (sort of a cut-to, I will add more in between) I spent my hours driving and resting between the stomach pain, and between the sweet-colored day dreams. Being optimistic has always been some kind of joke to me, but now I felt diffferent, being that my mortality would soon come to an end, and that I would be face to face with the unknown, which shaped my overall thinking. The pills no longer held the same fervor that they had. They still grasped me, from all the programming I was used to, but I could resist them. And for that I thanked my agnostic god. I drove down through the darkened sky, resisting the opiates even with the drenching pain in my stomach that seemed to consume my thoughts. But they got through Who knows? would I find heaven or hell down this highway? Would I find my place, my destiny, my fulfillment, or find the same oblivion of my life before my stomach affliction. I would try... and my stomach, and my junkie persona was not going to stop me. An Alice in Chains song came on the radio, Nutshell I believe it was. That's when I started to cry. Not tears of sadness, nor tears of joy. The tears of change.
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Busy, busy, busy	[Jun. 10th, 2004\|12:32 am]
Welp for the first time in a long time i've been busy. I made two new friends, which of course happen to be druggies. They seem to be the only people who want to hang around me. But these are unlike all the other druggie friends i've had, excluding my highschool pot friends. They're not losers, or thieves. They're good people that happen to like drugs. But I need the friendship, and I might end up going down the road of doing drugs again.. I don't know. We'll see I'm going with my mother to her monthly work sponsored poker game. I'm bringing $20. I managed to lose $100 to a casino yesterday, after I got furious at them. I payed with a checking card. $50 worth. I won $50. I cashed out. I called them and found at that they couldn't or wouldn't put it back into my checking account through the card. I would have to wait about 2 weeks for a check to get back. So I got pissed, reversed the withdrawal to bet some more and of course lost it all. Gambling is an addiction.... and it's lost me $150 in the last month or so. But i'm still going to poker, I only have $20 to lose and it's a fair game. I'm going to hang out with the druggie friends on the weekend. They are going to get coke. I will never touch coke, so that's good. Anyway, I had to make up a story to even meet them, since if I said I made two new friends my paranoid mom would never let me even see them. I told them that I met a girl online and she wanted to get coffee. Which we did tonight, with her boyfriend coming along too of course. We made it out so she came in and talked to my mom, so it looked as if it was a blooming romance or something rich like that. Anyway, they are both great people, and druggies like me.... My mom also knows an abstract artist that I could meet on the weeekend. I'm going to bring my two paintings over and show him, and check his out. If I feel disillusioned by it, then no more painting for me. I suck at it anyway. Then I go to Washington on the 18 or 19th, I forget which. But I want to go to Houston with my new friends... to score actually, right along those days. Which may be a good thing. But I need escape, I need it, I need it, I need it. Then my court date is coming up, and i'm trying to get my friend to fly over so he can drive me to the court date and be there for support. Ahh man, at least i'm consumed by all of this shit happening, so I don't feel melancholic I'm going to post another post with some of a story I wrote, that took about an hour to write or so
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Truth is the ugliest thing

[Jun. 3rd, 2004|06:15 am]

[	Current Mood	\|	creative	]
[	Current Music	\|	Alice In Chains - Shame In You	]

Welp, i'm back and i'm sticking to my oath to tell the truth. You ever stare into the mirror and wonder who is staring back? I feel it everyday. I'm just a wolf in sheep's clothing I guess.

I have many regrets... too many it seems now. I'm a burden on everyone, and no one understands what I'm going through, not even my doctor. I sit here, mooching off my mom because I'm afraid of going back to work. I'm afraid of everything it seems. But it doesn't matter, right? My mom is afraid of letting me borrow her car, because of my motor skills have been steadily declining as of late. Really bad shit, but I deserve it all. I don't know why i'm not in an electric chair right now, that's the only thing that could purge my guilt.

I saw JFK (the movie) again, probably for the 5th time. Sure, some would argue it's overdramatizing, but you can't argue the facts. Our government killed our president, for the almighty war dollar and of course the share of the power. I wonder if they feel any guilt? You know the ones operating on the highest level of government, doing the most grotesque evil things that go against every single thing this country was built on, all the while doing it on our tax dollars? Yah those ones. I bet their greed has turned them into soul less machines, and they feel no emotion. Have a fun time guys, i'm sure money is the path to complete happiness....

Anyway, i'm sick it seems. I don't what it is. No one wants to hear it, but i've been up for 40 hours so i'm not really mindful right now, considering of how much brain damage has been already caused... so bear with me through my boring descent into random things I want to say.

Well, insomnia, diahhrea, fatigue, migraine head-aches, etc. etc.

So I sit around all day, always pledging to read or do something constructive, but I never have the energy usually.

But I deserve it.

What's the most basic law of physics? Every reaction, has an equal and opposite reaction.

So I guess you do reap what you sow, and it doesn't help to sow shit everywhere eh?

I guess most people could see that the last song lyrics in the post below this was my own. And yah, it's a whole song... it has guitar and vocals.. albeit shitty vocals since I can't sing in key. But the fact is that at least it's not words. If I could hit the notes that I wanted with my voice I could finish all these songs that seem to pop into my head. I tend to write all my songs in the key of C Major I have found out. I don't know shit about music theory, but I do know if i'm in key or not. I think I always write in C Major because I love E minor and A minor so much, bleh. And at least its another way to waste my time, I don't have enough time wasters. Someone please give me a permanent IV full of Barbituates everyday. Numbed, comatose, dissociated, dissasembled, and deactived. That would be great.

Anyway, as you can see the insomnia is getting to me. Right now I could sleep actually, so It might have gone away. I just want to stay up... I don't know why....

I have digressed into madness it seems. I did do something constructive today... wow what a slap in the face to say something positive. It doesn't feel right.

I wrote a new song, hopefully I won't forget it when I wake up. I shall write the cliched and shitty chord progression down for my future reference, let me just fire up my pirated... err legal copy of guitar whatchamajig so I can find out what these weird chords are that I always use.

Verse G/Dsus2/Am/Em/Em
Chorus Aadd11/Am/C7m/Dsus2/Em/Em
Outtro Am/Add11/C7m/C (really fast changes which I can't even do right now) or it could be reversed... I don't remember now. Then to G/G with the sixth string open

And i'll put the lyrics here, because hey, I have illusions of grandeuir(I used to know how to spell this word so easily, and now I only know when i'm spelling it wrong... ahh how great it is)

Human nature

Lyrics

Verse
I lie and I cheat everyday
And There will come no sorrow
No shame or guilt going my way
Until the effects come tomorrow

Chorus
All I ever wanted was blue sky
All I ever wanted was for the tears to dry
All I ever wanted was to escape the rain
Maybe tomorrow I will face the pain

Verse
I pop some pills to feel numb
Nothing but a cheap escape
Corroding so easily as a crumb
My future addiction to come

Chorus
All I ever wanted was blue sky
All I ever wanted was for the tears to dry
All I ever wanted was to escape the rain
Maybe tomorrow I will face the pain

Verse
I'm always too aware
of the pain and sorrow I cause
I'm the incarnate of apathy
More shame that I will not give pause (llooking at these now, wow jeezus I suck at writing lyrics... or i'm too tired)

Chorus
All I wanted was blue sky
All I wanted was blue sky
All I wanted was blue sky
Just blue sky

Outtro
I know you've tried to make me listen
I know you've tried to make me reason
I know you've tried to make me see wisdom
I will take my leave of you
To a new season
To a new season
To a new season
To a new Season

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I'm anti-social again... so goodbye, maybe for a week, or a month.. who knows	[May. 28th, 2004\|09:57 pm]
I don't feel like talking to anyone, ever, right now. It'll pass, maybe a week or two, or even a month, but i'm not going to be on AIM or posting on here, or even checking my mail. If you urgently want to get in contact with me, then call me. Maybe this is my natural state, and I just come out of the dark every few months or so for about a week, trying to get social contact. It feels good, right now, to avoid people, to push them away. It doesn't matter. I've read a few hundred pages of a psych. book and another book about what my cognitive neurogological possibilities could be. I already know what I have, all the social disease. I'm not hard to diagnose. I don't want to bore you, but if you really want to look into the very worst darkside of me then read my symptoms of my disease: http://www.iupload.net/042004/SYMPTOmS.jpg . Rename it as a doc file. Just imagine your intelligence rapidly declining everday, and fearing that in 20 years you won't be able to take care of yourself and become a mental vegetable. Scary eh? Well I deal with it everyday. I'm just a shadow, a ghost... so if I never return to livejournal.. you'll never remember me, or never want to. I tried to present myself truthfully. I tried. But that doesn't work here if you want friends. People don't present their dark side in social worlds such as these,and I didn't realize it. I thought it said something about a fucking journal or something? Right now I don't want friends... I don't want speech, I don't want human contact, I just want escape. I'm going to escape someday, whether it be one of the many ways, I don't know, but I will. Maybe there will be peace there, or maybe oblivion, or maybe suffering. It doesn't matter. I pray for terminal cancer everday, which is some sort of gradoise twisted fantasy for me the last few years since my neuro disease started. My family wouldn't have the burden of me any more, ruining their lives. My friends would no longer have to give me all of that support that I need. And no more money problems. Suicide is out, because of how much it would hurt my family and friends. I could keep with stealing and drug use for escape, and eventually wind up dead or in an even worse position... at least it wouldn't be suicide, it could all be blamed on the drugs.(Oh poor Travis couldn't deal with his problems, he just didn't know what to do and he just did too drugs). The only other way is to become independant, and to find a job that suites me which is going to be a near impossibility. It'll break at some point, it'll come down to the wire, it'll surge. It's a crapshoot. When I look at human nature, I want to renounce my humanity. I feel like an alien. I bid you well if I don't return. I'm going to remain in my cocoon of a room, with nothing to do but read, watch tv, play guitar, and use the computer. Enough things to do something artistic at least. I can't leave the house, I can't get a job, I can't find release. I'll leave you with a bunch of these songs I had in my playlist except for the last one: "Oh yeah, another day Oh yeah, gotta play What it is It never was I don't care To give enough My boredom has outshone the sun It's all down low I just want to have some Little fun Oh yeah, another day Oh yeah, what a waste What it is It never was I don't care Or give a fuck My boredom has outshone the sun It's all down low I just want to have some Little fun Bring me down Bring me down" "Whatsoever I've feared has come to life Whatsoever I've fought off became my life Just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile Sunspots have faded And now I'm doing time Cause I fell on black days Whomsoever I've cured I've sickened now Whomsoever I've cradled I've put you down I'm a search light soul they say But I can't see it in the night I'm only faking when I get it right Cause I fell on black days How would I know That this could be my fate So what you wanted to see good has made you blind And what you wanted to be yours has made it mine So don't you lock up something that you wanted to see fly Hands are for shaking No, not tying No, not tying I sure don't mind a change But I fell on black days How would I know That this could be my fate" "I think I know the answer I stumbled on and all the world Fell down And all the sky went silent Cracked like glass and slowly Tumbled to the ground They say if you look hard You'll find your way back home Born without a friend And bound to die alone I'm thinking of your highness And crying long upon the loss I've found And on the plus and minus Zero chance of ever Turning this around Why doesn't anyone believe In loneliness Stand up and everyone will see Your holiness Why doesn't anyone believe In loneliness Stand up and everyone will see Your holiness They say if you look hard You'll find your way back home Born without a friend And bound to die alone" "And if you say your prayers You will make God happy And if you do what's true You will make me happy I'll keep you in a jar And you will seem happy I'll give you breathing holes You will think you're happy, now You're in a laundry room You're in a laundry room You're in a laundry room And if you save yourself You will make him happy He'll bring you fine rewards Then you will feel happy I'll keep you in my room I'm sure you'll be happy And if you save your soul You will think you're happy, now You're in a laundry room You're in a laundry room You're in a laundry room You're in a laundry room" and the last one, it wasn't on my playlist but it means a lot to me: Verse I've seen this day before/ Deja Vu I've experienced and I have done / Everything under the sun The leaves fall and regrow / Only to renew again The seasons come and go / only to restart again Chorus I can't get that song / out of my head(out of my head) X 2 And suicide is painless Verse I've had this daydream before / Deja Vu I've written and i've prosed / To express my bitter woes It's another day again/ another time to pretend In this I might find escape / Deja Vu Chorus I can't stop remembering, what she said(then Whisper: what she said)X 2 And suicide is painless Bridge With eyes so blue / I could spend eternity within you With days so full / I wish it would never have to end at all Verse I've been in this melancholy before/ Deja Vu I've cheated and i've lied / just to be able to cry The pain it never goes / It winds into deeper woes I will find escape / Deja Vu Chorus I can't get that song / out of my head I can't stop remembering/ what she said And suicide might be painless
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Was unsure about girl	[May. 27th, 2004\|05:20 pm]
Well first I thought it was someone else, but I know who it is now. Julia.. what a great name. I think she has a boyfriend, but that doesn't matter. And she used to be into drugs like me. She's like me, just a loner, new to Austin(except maybe for her boyfriend). I'm surprised she called me, it was such a nice thing even though I was drunk ass tired and probably made a fool out of myself. Anyway, hopefully we have coffee and can share our misery and hope in our own little world. I left her a message. Along those lines, i've been making around $300-500 a month on ebay. I wonder if anyone would let me in as a roomie lol? It would be nice, I could put a few hundred down to show that i'm not some flake. Anyway, I don't know if I should post this in the austin community lol. They think i'm crazy, but since my mom has been home i've been depressed and morose. When she was gone I could do anything, hit a bookstore, music store, coffeeshop, bar, see the sights. Now that she's here she wants to know where i'm going, she never lets me use the van, she always thinks i'm up to illegal stuff(well she's 2% right sometimes), and nags and nags me. So if I could get into an apartment, and then get a steady job(with my mindset at my mothers house i'll never get a steady job), then i'd be set to live my own life. Ebay is giving me all this extra money anyway and i'm spending it on stupid things at the moment. I'll post something about it on the austin community anyway. So right now i'm looking forward to meeting Julia, i'm thinking about the girl on Aim... the one who I blocked from seeing the post hehe. I want to get out of this house before I self-destruct anymore. I'm reading constantly which is good since I bought about 30 books. William Burroughs is a literary god. I've been trying to find a job, and I guess i'll have to find a roomie before a job, because i'm going to insane.... truly. My mother wondered why I was so depressed when I picked her up and the past day or two, since I sounded so well on the phone when she was gone, ahhh I'll try to explain it to her when she gets back. She thinks she's protecting me, but shes just sheltering me. I'm 21. I'm stuck. I'm going to hit some bumps, and theres nothing she can do about it by denying me access to her vehicle or to friends I make. So let me go see if this roomie idea will work.
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Another girl

[May. 26th, 2004|11:18 pm]

[

Current Mood

excited

]

I got a call from another girl. I asked her if she wanted to get coffee sometime and she actually called me back and talked to me. I was way out of it since the phone call woke me up, but she seemed very interested. I'll have to call her back sometime to go out on this coffee offer. I enjoy her journal, and she's very beautiful.

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