I am the functional drug addict, I am myth, a lie, something to shield your eye from the fact that you are a drain on your own life, an addiction not just to drugs, but to strain, to the addiction of
MAINTAIN MAINTAIN MAINTAIN
Hampster wheel of run away
AWAY AWAY A WAY
To seperate self from flames burned on spoons on the street, candles lit for people still sick and suffering, who are dead before you have a chance to meet them….
I am gold, I am pretty, I am neat, I am clean.
Whatever do you mean, that is mean… I am doing just fine, I am golden, baby. I am maintaining mine, you may need help but I do not… I am okay with burning spoons, and keeping all my bowls hot as fire
Fire fire fire
Burn yourself, I am okay with hiding bottles on the shelf.
I am okay okay okay
Please go away.
I did and she stayed there, sitting probably in the same chair, forever and ever, in the life of fog get her.
Fog Get Her
She tells me I am an alcoholic, drug addict, and spits on me, when I ask her for some change, I tell her that’s strange, because she is high on the same drug, and she look in the ****ing mirror if she wants to insult anyone. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, enough that I am writing about it right now, and still thinking about it months later.
I was doing speed with this girl a week before asking for the change, and asked her for the change because I thought she would sympathize being a drug addict her self.