Explanation: This post uses getting off of a horse as a metaphor for getting of heroin, because horse is one of the names addicts call heroin on the street but also because it makes you a passenger in your life instead of one who can stand on his own two feet.

Trigger Warning: If discussion of drugs/addiction/alcoholism/drug use triggers you please turn back now.

EXPLICIT CONTENT

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I am no longer a passenger in my own life, no longer taking a back seat, no longer on a runaway horse. I am becoming something I had no idea I even had it in me to be, a human being, with a life, and friends, and human feelings who is accountable to the world in ways I never thought I could be.

I derived satisfaction, in previous years only from substances, a chaotic passenger, prone to riding runaway trains, or riding on the back of a horse, thinking myself its master. I have come to realize it was the reverse, and that horse is no longer riding in me, on me, or within in me. I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life, because before this I have never even known what that word means, I derived satisfaction from things that in the very nature of what they are, are not capable of providing the thing I thought I used to think I was attaining, this explains the chaotic chase of horses and dragons that has been my existence on this planet.

I walk through life now, elated, at peace and reinstated in a reality that is the most satisfying thing I have ever known, because it is real, and I derive satisfaction now from being a good person whenever I can, which comes from something that gives me strength to do so-

everyone around me

the earth-the air, the water, the ground

and the simple rewards of waking up every day and trying my hardest to be better.

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Explanation: About drug and alcohol addiction- horse- metaphor used to indicate narrator is ex-heroin junkie, if this is offensive to you, read no further.

I am changing, in ways I didn’t think were possible, thinking myself already dead, doomed, a walking corpse, my whole life, chased and miserable, by a misery demon or resentment personified.

I have spent my whole life running from the voice of this reaper, thinking it to be my doom, my embarrassment, my tormentor, my silent passenger, riding on the back of my soul, like a man rides a horse, making me a horse, and resentment my master.

Today, for the first time in my entire adult life… I realized… I am beginning to derive satisfaction, from something that is pure and unselfish. This is insane to me, an insane person. I am no longer a horse to a demon that rides my back.

I am able to walk again, and for this I am eternally thankful to everything higher than I ever was or could be. I don’t even need a horse anymore.

What is one word that describes you?

DUDE. NO WAY. I KNOW I JUST ANSWERED THIS BUT **** my other answer, I did not remember this when posting it.

THIS RULES. I AM NOT FAILING TODAY!

I have OCD, along with the other litany of problems I have already listed here, heh. I got my hair cut, which is awesome because I didn’t have to pay someone in drugs to shave it all off because homeless people can’t cut hair, and I wasn’t so itchy that this would seem like a necessary choice, so yay me for getting my haircut and getting a normal hair cut so I don’t have to shave my head again. That sucked, I think I mentioned the whole mohawk **** thing… but if I didn’t some ***hole shaved my head into a split in half mohawk, and told everyone to look for mohawk ****.

Short sweet, and very fun for mohawk ****. I got a lot of sympathy, and a lot of free items.. and they found out the wrath of mohawk ****. Then mohawk **** needed to leave, because there was a rumor that I had a twin and one of us was a girl and the other was a guy and the only difference was the voice… convenient… till they found out we were both the same person and it was me beating my ass not my twin brother or vice versa… very bad con…

I threw my phone in the river at around the same time because I thought someone tapped it looking for mohawk **** because tricking junkies is a high crime… and people really give a **** about that kind of thing…. or something I thought when I was way too high…

My dad is a really great person, we had a really good time, he was talking to me about his life, making me laugh, and we went to a really good restaurant and I told him I am done with drugs and booze the rest of my life. I also got to make plans with my uncle to see him at Christmas for the first time in ten years, and say I was sorry for being a lying ***hole.

All in all a successful day for mohawk ****, or me with a shorter hair cut that looks nothing like that at all.

Peace

Damien.

I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.

I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…

Them

Meth

Same word re-arranged…

Item

Time

Same word re-arranged.

Heroin

Hero in pushed together it forms a drug

Divided it references a hero in me

Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.

Funny right?

His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.

I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.

I was such a piece of ****.

Damien