I Love My Nation...

Idk why it’s so hard to trust people and to believe that they genuinely like me and that I can genuinely be apart of something my whole life I’ve always felt so disconnected from everyone but sometimes I feel like maybe it’s me making it that way perceiving it that way if you will.

yes i am smart. yes i am stupid. it’s called being flexible.

Fuck yeaaaa

Ice man

Heroins girl 4 life lol

note to everyone

I can’t wait till something else matters too me and this stops taking up so much space

the biggest lesson im learning is that nothing is as extreme or as permanent as our emotions convince us they are. nothing is certain and things are always fluctuating and there are always exceptions and there are always mistakes. there is always pain and there is always love. everything is a delicate touch away from changing

Dude I feel this shit in my soul going through it man

If I relapse

If I relapse, I would lose everything I worked so hard to obtain in the last couple of months. I would not feel the weight of the world, but I would feel an intense wave of disappointment from the ones I love the most. I would let everybody down - I would let myself down. If I take even one xanax bar, I would begin a slow downhill spiral.

 Xanax would turn into cocaine and cocaine would turn into a sheet of crumpled foil in my hand. On the foil would lay goopy yellow chunks of fentanyl, and my fingers would be stained black. My mental health would plummet and I would dive deep into insanity. Once my parents figured out that I have relapsed, they would cut me off financially and I would be left on the streets. My boyfriend would be done with me, and he would break my heart and tell me to leave him alone forever. Without his presence a hole would grow deep within the depths of my heart. I would fill that hole with men and drugs. Since I would be screwed financially, my only option is to leech off of men.

A junkie would whisk me away to his dingy apartment. He would feed me any drug I desired. He would treat me like shit, perhaps even abuse me. I would let him treat me negatively because I would think, “I deserve this.” My hopes and dreams would fade into oblivion. Every day would be the same: Wake up, find drugs, get high, go to sleep. Over and over again. Monotony and chaos. My family would grieve as if I were dead. Hope would dwindle as I twist the pipe. Hope would lessen as I would hold a tooter in between my chapped lips. Hope would decrease as I would snort white powder up my nostrils. The bright light that used to shine on my life would turn to pitch black,

Eventually, I would be dead. True blackness would envelope my gloomy soul. There would be no coming back from death - no more chances, no more rehab, no more therapy, no more meetings. Hope would truly be lost.

I can’t relapse. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t