I somehow always find my way back to the heroin tag. However, I’m grateful to be clean and sober today, grateful to not be homeless and strung out, even though it’s lonely right now and growing up sucks, I have the most clean time I’ve ever had in my life and I’m happy to be alive today. Xo
3 years ago, I played in a little death core metal project. Shared the stage with a few of my idols at the time,
Arsonists Get All The Girls,
All Shall Perish,
The Fall Of Babylon,
Condemned To Exhile,
And a lot of amazing local bands. God I want to write and perform music again, the best times of my life.
The bed I ODd in last week. I’m writing this for all the family I have in the #heroin tag. I don’t know you but I have felt the way you have. I occasionally search the tag for a mental fix. What I end up with, is the memories of the past, fresh in my mind, ever reminding me why I have constantly sought something different over the last two years.
This disease has left me numb to, and isolated from so much in life. What I have received in return for my pain and suffering is the experience that allows me to empathize with you; lost, damaged, disillusioned souls. But only you..
I see the pictures of the dope, the syringes. The track marks and the blank expressions. The song lyrics and the scribbled posts screaming for mercy and relief, anything for relief. I know what this is like. That junkie allure kept me seduced and chasing, of all things, an image. The high never changed. The shit i was willing to do got worse. Really, I was just a shit head getting high everyday at my moms house. I was never going to be known for or accomplish anything. Ive got family issues and problems with depression, self esteem, body image too. Nothing special. Ive been constantly disappointed with literally everything in life, even with my problems outside of addiction..
Eventually homeless, but that’s when it changed for me. In my mind, heroin was the only way to survive, even while it was ultimately killing me.. Junkie pride kept me suffering , it became the wedge between me connecting with anyone who looked my way.
I’m like you, I wouldn’t dare to take my eyes off the spoon, doing that meant acknowledging all my loved ones doing absolutely anything to help me. I used and abused anyone who trusted me enough to let me come close to them. One incident after another, I was completely alone, when family and friends realized they couldn’t help or heal me, they realized their own form powerlessness as a result of this disease.
I’ve been very fortunate though, I’ve had 6 different opportunities to get away from dope through rehab. I’ve fucked off each and every one of those opportunities to do something different. Always in a new place, with new people, and sometimes new things.. Still looked for ways to get high, whether intentionally or indirectly placing myself in bad situations with people I wanted to care for..
However, I’ve changed immensely throughout my travels and the trials of life. Goals can be attainable. I’ve had to set goals just to get to the small goals. Seriously, I have never felt accomplishment in my life.
I’m looking at a 7th treatment in about a week. If you asked me what would be different, all I can say is that I’m just not going to fuck off, because honestly, I don’t know what’s in store for me, I never have and probably never will. All I have is a choice to make. All I have is control over my attitude. All I can truly do is influence my future with the actions of today. The past is dead.
The truth is, there is nothing in the world like an opiate high. Sorry.
The reality is that, you can get away from the dope, you can amend everything in your life, you can acquire you’re wildest dreams, material or emotional. It’s possible. Where we are the same, is that reading these statements or making the assumption that a different life is possible, means nothing. I always knew it but never believed.
Quite frankly, despite this recent overdose, even without the dope, I still can’t feel anything. I am still numb and isolated. I still punish myself, finding a reason why I don’t deserve the same chance a non-addict does.
I have the world in the palm of my hands. The dirty truth, that was never worth believing in, until now, is that it takes time. It just does. Time is a window into the future, the futures not the point though.
The point is that It’s just not fair anymore, we all deserve better, I don’t give a fuck who you are, what you’ve done, that was you on drugs. That was you doing the best you could with the knowledge you had. You fucking deserve more. I realized that I was ready to go to any lengths when wanting something different wasn’t enough.
I do the best I can with the knowledge I have. Except, I don’t know what different is sometimes.
Keep your eyes off the spoon and you’ll see you’re surrounded by people who desperately want to help you.
I don’t care for the idea of old age, and still glorify living fast in a way. That way is not walking dead, merely existing. Everyone dies, not everyone lives. It’s not death people will mourn over, it’s lack of life.
For every fuck face still enjoying their high there are ten of us suffering.. 1000’s struggling everyday. That’s a fact.
I just wanted to share something with the only people I feel an affinity towards. It’s not easy feeling alone all the time. Any REAL junkie knows how I feel.
The heroin tag will always be home to me.