I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.
High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.
I got to go pee then will be back.
I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?
My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.
I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?
He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).
I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?
While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.
I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).