I am still not high

It's been at least a half hour since I swallowed the DXM, and I'm still not feeling it.  Ugh.  I just want to be out of my brain RIGHT NOW.  Must wait more.

Have you ever seen "Door in the Floor"?  I vibrate in sympathy with that movie.  Sympathy, not empathy.  Part of it I know is that I went to boarding school like the boy.  And I was poor like the boy, so any job seemed like a gift from the benevolant gods of Society.  I get that.

But somehow the movie also captures the loneliness, awkwardness and isolation that I feel NOW.  Although I also felt it when I was 15 at Andover.  But I identify as much with the Kim Basinger and Jeff Bridges characters as I do with the boy's.

I wish I owned that movie, I'd like to watch it now.  It would validate my feelings of emptiness.

I'm Mister Cellophane

You may already know this, but click on the title of this post. It will lead you to John C. Reilly singing my theme song.  Just thought I'd mention it.

I'm Mr. Cellophane.  Always have been, guess I always will be.  Got a lot there, but noone notices.

Goodnight.  Time to do DXM and watch "Across the Universe." 

"I hope I didn't take up too much of your time."

How I wish I didn't always feel that way. 

K's Choice: "I'm Not an Addict" and DXM

I have the taste of puke in my mouth and nostrils. SEEEEXXXXXY.  Yeah, so I stopped at Walgreen's and got my drug of choice and for some godforsaken reason, Egg Nog.  It seemed yummy at the moment.  I drank some.  Then when I got home I realized how fattening it is and how it doesn't seem to set well on my stomach, so I made myself puke it up.  Feel much better now.

My drug of choice (for this year) is DXM.  Which is in cough syrup or cough pills.  It's a dissociative drug, maybe hallucinogenic.  It is the shit if you aren't depressed.  Or maybe it makes you depressed.  I have become suicidal coming off of it.  But yet, I do it again.

"It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive.  If you don't have it you're on the other side.  I'm not an addict, maybe that's a lie."

One more day, then rehab.  I'm excited.  How fucked up is it that part of the reason I'm excited is the idea of meeting people.  New people that I may become friends with.  New people that I may want to seduce.  I am a fucking goddamn mess.

"Sober now, I'm cold, alone.  I'm just a person on my own.  Nothing means a thing to me.  Nothing means a thing to me. It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive...  I'm not an addict.  Maybe that's a lie."

I really want nothing to mean a thing to me.  Why do I always have to care.  I care just enough to feel guilty.

I saw my mom for breakfast today, so that I could switch cars and get my truck back.  But I did not tell her about rehab.  I'm going to tell her on the phone two minutes before I walk in the clinic's doors.  I just can't handle her disapproval.  I am a wuss.  As has been determined earlier.

Maybe if I cut myself tonight I can prove to myself I'm not such a goddamn fucking weakling.  But I am.  But the cuts may ameliorate the feeling.  Being able to draw blood on myself helps.

I drove to his apt complex tonight.  So on top of being a weak depressed loser, I am a fucking stalker.  Sorry.

I've taken a shower now. Should I go?

So, now I'm clean and somewhat sober.  Should I head out to his apartment complex?  And btw, I don't know exactly which apt he lives in.  Which is good.  Fuck.  I'm a stalker.

So, I should stay wet from my shower and fucking masturbate about him. Do not, do not, do not go over to his place and fucking stalk him.

So yeah, that's what I'll do.  But when I get into rehab, I'm telling my therapist all about this. And as of this moment, I don't give a fuck if my therapist knows who F is.  Which, btw, he will know.  Because F trained where I am going.  Which is why F couldn't go there himself for his treatment.

G'night.  I may or may not be riding for the next coupla hours.  How lazy am I?  Not sure yet.  But everyone else tells me I'm the hardest working girl they know.  So watch out. F :-)

I'm an addict in love with her shrink

So, it's almost a complete week since I last posted here.

And I'm going to admit myself to detox/rehab tomorrow.  I waited until I could tie up all my loose ends- my cat's care, my classes, and most importantly, my job.  So, I told my boss on Thursday that I was going to substance abuse treatment for the next 3 weeks.  Which is a lie, because it's only 2 weeks.  But i can't seem to utter a word without it being a lie, so who gives a fuck.

My boss (Tod) (seemed to be) extremely understanding, and told me about how this is the right time to do this before I got licensed and things could really go bad. And I told him how the Jerrod thing really scared the shit out of me.  Jerrod was fired for coke after he had already been through our company's paid rehab.  I don't want that to be me.

So yeah, now I am a total fuck up.  And I am drinking tonight to fulfill that definition.  If only my shrink would follow through with me tonight, I could definitely complete the total picture.

Maybe I should try to find his apartment tonight and show up.  What would he do?

He would have no idea because somehow he missed that training during his M.D. training.  Yeah, right.  But that's what he said.

So, I am trashed right now.  Wish I wasn't but I am.  So now I'm going to ride my bike to his apartment and see what happens.

Am I going to do this? I'm not sure yet.  I'm going to change first, then maybe get back to you.