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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.


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.


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.

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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 |contentcontent]
[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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I moved in [Sep. 1st, 2004|10:17 am]
So I pretty much moved into my new apartment. I feel like crap, but it doesn't matter. Anyway, we're working on getting an internet connection back on, so i'll have to go into detail later
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Nothings going to change my world [Aug. 22nd, 2004|11:39 pm]
[Current Mood |crankycranky]
[Current Music |Beatles - Across the Universe]

Just humming the lyrics.  Such a beautiful song.  John Lennon was a genius.  Anyway, my mom found out that I got into her safe where she stores her drugs.  She caught me red handed.  Awful.  Oh well, I feel no guilt, because so far in my life i've stolen about 10 of her pills, and she's stolen about 350 or so. 

I'm waiting for my friends to call, and hopefully for lucentrip to call :).  I hope I didn't scare her off or anything, she seems to be so much like me that I can't help but identify with her in a lot of ways.  I'm going to start abuse my prescripton drugs in order to read faster.  I'm going to start reading tons of poetry, and literature, as to fill my brain with inspiration.  I want to write a poem, that can pierce someones soul.  It's hard, when I feel like i'm  the one with no soul..."someday you will ache like ache"  sorry had to go into more music. 

I wish I knew an aura reader, because I think my aura would be black and broken, just like the famous writer Jerry Stahl found out his was.  I don't think I believe in aura reading, but hey, if I do get a reading and it turns out that it was what I suspected than i'd believe in it heh... since I look like a cuteish baby sort of soul.   

I've been doing nothing lately(I painted something for my dad, but it didn't come out like I wanted... like always).  Disappointing.  Abstract art is too hard to be technicially and proficient at, if you have to feel for it like me.  An abstract art work, is like a piece of music to me, suspended in time.  It has rythms, tones, melodies, and the feeling like there are a few different intstruments playing at once.  I know what good abstract art is, and I know mine is shit.  So i'll try writing, since i'm stuck here until I can move out.  Heh I might apply for a crossing guard position tomorrow, at a new elementary school that just opened up this month, thats only about a quartere mile from my house.  The only problem is the damn heat.  It's always 100F with humidity each day, and damn is that going to suck.  But if I could get the job, and be able to get into a clerical position at the school because of it, it would be great.  I'll at least take the interview.  I had to write in my Class C misdmemeanor, but i'm sure i'm probably the only damn applicant to this job lol.

Anyway, i'm going to stop doing nothing and do something to keep me occupied until I can get out of here.  If everything worked out and I moved in with my friends, it would be paramount to an orgasmic state of psyche for me.  I love both of them deeply, now that i've gotten to know them, and they are so intelligent and fun to talk to about any subject, that's it great.  And we share so much things in common, you would swear we're siamese triplets.  Anyway, sappy I know.

I ordered some Kratom, that is completely legal to consume and to buy unlike poppy tea(my mom hates me using poppy tea), so if she gets the package and objects, i'll just pull out a full FDA report on her ass saying it's perfectly illegal.  Then if you she decides to take it, i'll call the fucking cops on her I swear.  Number one, for opening MY MAIL.  A federal offense, and number two for stealing.  She'll probably respond back by saying that I stole from her, but she has no evidence heh.  So I will definitely be able to try this drug(through freaking scare tactics)  that's supposed to be a stimulant, and opiate like drug.  But has no opiate properties, and no chemicals that are close to illegal drugs.  And it's  lot easier to make than poppy tea, since it's soluble in water I believe.

Anyway, they say heaven is a place where nothing changes.  We'll nothings going to change my world, so i'm determined to stay heavenly.  The raging suicidal thoughts have gone down considerably, mainly in part to a lot of you guys responding to my posts with support(thanks so much you guys), and because things are looking like they're going to change for the better.  I need more adderall, and i'm going to read Brave New World... the Huxley classic, and Confessions of an Opium Eater.  Let's hope I learn something.  As soon as I can get access to buslines, i'm going to try to get into some free classes at UT on writing.  They do have stadium like courses there, don't they?  If they do that would be so cool to be able to learn for free.  I'd like to do a poetry class, and literature... screenwriting would be last on my list.  Maybe I can even convince some of the kids to turn in my work as theirs sometimes, so I can get some feedback on my work LOL.  Jeez so weird for me to be optimistic, must be the uppers.

Anyway, I luv ya all, all of my LJ friends, and just want to let you know that.  Your support means a lot to me, and I thank you for it, and for all the incredible intellectual discourses and talks. 
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Dreams that are torn from your heart, like a scream of a butterfly [Aug. 20th, 2004|05:58 am]
[Current Music |Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea (Single Edit)]

I'm so tired I can't sleep/I'm a liar and a thief/Sit and drink pennyroyal tea/Destill the life inside of me

I'm just sitting peacefully now, you know me... walking in the past as confusing as it can be for me sometimes.  Singing along to a song about purification, about people who make mistakes, or who are mistakes, and try to cleanse themselves.  I'm currently on a strong drug regime, if it helps anyway.  I can't feel any more.  60mg of Valium, 4 gin and tonics, 30mg of Adderall, and the remnants of 21.25mg of Hydrocodone and 5mg of Percocet, and 50mg of Ultram.  How do I think and type clearly on that?  Who knows, who cares.  If I were to die today, who besides my immediately family, and my now estranged friends in Washington would care about me?  No one.  Which is good in a way, maybe my family members will pass on, and my friends disown me so I can committ the only act i'll ever be good at... suicide.  Without remorse, or guilt of hurting someone who loved me.

Anyway, as I said, this post is about the past.  I stay over at my friends house.  I respect their anonymity, so i've always called them my friends, but i'll just give them fake names at the least so I can single them out.  In the past days I was there, it went from stability, to chaos, and I'm crying right now thinking of how my friends are coping.  Ok, let's take it from the beginning.  In my journal these were the friends that had asked me to move in, and I was close to moving, so close.  So if I remember right I went over there Saturday to hang out. 

We had fun, but I hadn't realized that Marty had lost his job and that jenny didn't know whether she had one, since she couldn't make it to work.... because she was in the fucking hospital!!!  What kind of bs is that?  Oh and for the record, the company that fired her for not showing up for the initial phase because she had an allergic reaction and nearly(I think maybe she died for a second)died was fucking SPHERION.  Yes those globafied Dell consortiums.  So if you want a passionate company that cares  for people, don't bother to send your resume~ to those soul-less assholes. 

Ok so this was a problem.  Two people without a job now, when they both previously had jobs.  I think everything was going decent, even with that situation, until the drugs came pouring in.  God knows how much my friends both spent on crack and heroin(I know I payed $60, but never really got a decent amount of H, but that's okay).  Anyway, we had fun... talked, and we were all excited about me moving in.  I was dreaming of it, and it seemed so perfect.  But then Marty I believe lost it... I don't know if Jenny had lost it either, but in any case it turned into a crack scene out of a movie.  People coming and going, and just a few people smoking rocks all day, drug deals going sour.  I know I should of said something.  I remember only doing a little H and one speedball, but I hardly consider that in excess.  Marty was doing crack nearly all day... for a few days... I should of said something, I should of done something.

I feel like it's my fault.  Anyway, Jenny went along with it too, smoking the rock and it got to the point where we found out Marty had stopped taking his medication.  And then it came to him selling his important possessions to druggies for 1/1000th of what they were worth.  And then he finally hit bottom, and cracked.  He couldn't stop crying, and I comforted him.  I remember feeling like him all the time when I was younger, when he was in his state.  When I was admitted to a mental hospital for fear of suicide.  It scared me, but at the same time it healed me, to confort him, to tell him that whatever is happening now, will end... maybe not now, but it will end.  So  I had been there from Saturday to Monday by that point. I spent most of the time sleeping, probably for 16 hours a day... I don't remember.  But it was because at that point I knew my dream was gone.  The stability had left the building, and I was just another lost soul there.  I felt so alone.  Marty left Monday?  I don't remember, but he was in such a bad place that he said he had to go to his dads.  So I was there with Jenny, and I felt empty and alone.  She was in withdrawal, and I wanted to comfort her, but I think she didn't want human contact at all.  The next day, she took me home.

I had my first sexual experience, which was with them.  I was on too many drugs and couldn't even get it up, but it didn't matter, because it was such a good feeling.  And I didn't feel weird about our friendships after that, I still don't.  I miss that night, and the night before everything turned into hell.

And now here I am.  I left them both messages, since I don't know where they are.  Jenny has to decide whether to stay, and get cash for the apartment or lose it and stay with Marty... wherever his dad lives.  I think she may already be there.  I love them both, and i'm afraid i'll never see them again.  I thought of them, as more than friends, but I guess they didn't feel the same way.

I'm crying now, again...

I just hope they're doing well, because god knows i'm always in a perpetual state of deeply-impacted depression, unless i'm in the throes of Morphia.  I'm going to try to get an apartment near UT I guess(Yah, that'll be easy if I post on the Austin boards eh??  Hah, you wouldn't believe how normal I am)so I can use the bus, try to get a job, take classes at ACC.. try to do something.  Because if I can't, then i'll have to end it all.  At this point my life is worth nothing, not even the ink that would be on my death certifcate.  It's sad, and sober to say it, but it's true.

I depressed myself, just by writing what happened, and now I feel the deep settling of melancholy wash over me like a shivering breeze.  I feel like i'm heartbroken, without an object of affection.  Oh well, I miss you both and I guess you know that by now you guys. 

I will go take some adderall, stay up all night, and paint.  I will paint my emotions, until they're glossy stained.. until I paint a part of my soul into the canvas. 
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(no subject) [Aug. 10th, 2004|11:57 pm]
I thought I would post this as a joke, after I saw it on another journal entry heh.

LJMeme.com Crush Meme

Number of crushes on me so far: 0

LJ username:

heres my pic by the way

Travis, the incredibly blazingly, hot, alpha-male
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I need a job, now more than ever... [Aug. 8th, 2004|01:46 am]
[Current Mood |frustratedfrustrated]
[Current Music |Tool - 2 - Eulogy]

I hung out with my friends over friday and saturday, and it was great to finally get out of this house, and to be with friends.  I tried crack a few more times, but I still never found it remotely interesting or effective as an euphoric drug.  The decent "high" only lasts 10-15 minutes, and then I was  left with disappointment.  Heh, I don't know which habit I worry more about when it comes to my friends, heroin or crack.  But anyway, I guess I have no dopamine left to stimulate or something as far as that goes.  And my friends are doing well now, with new jobs.

The good news is that they said I could move into the extra room, and of course the problem underlying that scenario is money.  And I don't have a job.  Finding a job with my work history, college history, and general interviewing skills, needless to say will be near impossible to do.  I'm going to use an agency my friend recommended, but I really would not be surprised to find that they would have no real job to place me in.  I don't even have an AA certificate.  So i'm in a bind now.  I'm afraid that if I stay around this damn house any longer, making fruitless attempts to get a job, not being able to diagnose my neruo-disorder, and being in this hazy malaise, that I might wind up questioning why I choose to even try; then just give up completely. 

I'm going to apply for SSI benefits, but I'm doubtful i'll get any.  As far as school is concerned, I cannot get a student loan for this semester because the deadline passed, so I would have to pay out of my own pocket and be reimbursed later if I wanted to go.  So I guess i'll try to get a job... which is going to have to be on the busline, which I don't mind.  It just makes it harder. 

I'm just a big loser, if it wasn't obvious.  At least there is nothing else I can fuck up in my life right now.  Who knows, if I can't get a straight job then i'll say fuck it to society, and live by illegal means I guess.  Heh, I don't know what to do. I feel like i'm looking down the barrell of a gun. 

I'll try the best I can, but i'm afraid that's not good enough. 
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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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