Friday, 8 February 2008

Diary: FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!



I have been pissed off all day, nagging fuckers of clients, other fuckers not paying me and useless fucking MS Word. I finally do the stupidest thing I could do and borrow $150 and score. Oh yeah, some relief from this fucked up day. 

But I wasn't going to have any sort of day no matter what! I can't shoot straight and I'm hacking up my arm ... I can't see if I'm getting a vein or not because the syringe is starting to fill with blood. In panic, I rip the needle out and blood oozes out all over my arm, dripping on the floor. I rip my tourniquet off and quickly tie my other arm and start pumping my fist. I try again but I can't see if I am hitting a vein or not. 

Sweat is now in my eyes and I am even more desperate to get this shit into me. 'Get the FUCK in', I yell. I know it's not going in right and I can see a small bulge popping up. 


I plunge it in a dozen different ways. Is this it?. Is this it?. I push harder and half way through, it starts to bulge again. More plunging into this bloody spot and out of patience I just plunge the rest when I think I have even the slightest chance of getting that vein. In the end at least half goes into somewhere in my arm it shouldn't and I think I got some into a vein. Whose fucking knows? I have a huge lump on my arm amongst the blood and sweat, my other arm is bleeding on my shirt ... 

'FUCK!!!' I scream ... Fuck you. 

Why can't I just be happy on methadone? Why can't I just keep dropping my dose to nil? Why the fuck, why? I just realised I am in tears. I'm not sure why, I just am. I should be happy I had something at all but I,m not ... I'm never really happy. Even if I'm high, at the back of my mind is guilt. 

This has to stop ... it has to fucking stop. In 90 seconds I have blown $150 and I am in the most depressed and angry state of mind possible. Good job, Terry. 

Tomorrow is what I am now dreading. The drone in my head. The drone that lets me know that I now need to repay $150 I can't afford... This is what my life is like sometimes. Though it may sound horrible and degrading, it's doesn't bother me until I write about it - probably why I never do it in front of anyone. I really hate it and I see no end in sight. I don't want to be injecting myself with street made heroin to avoid a melt down or worse, to get some normality out of my life.

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