whoah

i wishj i could tell u what is going on in the brain behind my mouth. The words coming out of my mouth are different than the one’s in my head. There is an urgency that desires me to just tell you what is really going on. But for some unknown reason I’m holding back.

I’m so fucking close to letting go. To letting all that I’ve worked for go. I have the drugs but i just haven’t taken them yet. That feeling of knowing my life depends on telling you about what’s in my back pocket, but fearing you will take away my only hope.

I wish i could cry out to everyone right now. But instead my fingers are the only thing capable of speaking. Catatonic. Dazed to the world. You ask me whats wrong and i can only say i dunno and sputter out sinlge words… but they don’t make sense by themselves.

Funny how I’ll do something I don’t wanna do. I had a bad feeling about it before I even did it, but that didn’t matter, that was what enticed me more. logic? it’s not logical.

You know that moment? This one…

You suddenly find yourself at a party, or maybe not a party but theres people around and there’s drugs. And this is unusual for you. Well, it used to be usual, but the last while you have stayed away from drugs. So this moment is reminiscent of a time ago. You’re curious. Curious like you were the first time. The first time you tried those drugs, so naiive. Well, here you are, and there the are. You’re the only sober one in the room. Usually everyone is sober. Or atleast, the ones you know. You know that your friends love and care about you, but the current company? You have your doubts. It seems they are more interested in the dope that you. You actually know this to be true. You remember being there. You remember what it was like to care more about the dope than people. So much that you forgot people were dying around you while you inhaled the vapors. A choice suddenly is offered you. Door A or Door B.

Door A is back the way you came in. You can leave now and everything would be fine. You can go back to what you know is good, to what you have worked so hard for, to what your family is proud of you for, to where your friends are.

Then there’s Door B. The new enchanting door. If you look at it too long it sucks you in before you can even decide. this door is the drug. And the drug is awaiting. It wants you back.

Here you find yourself in the washroom, on your hand and knees, trying to decide what it is to do. “DEcide”. It doesn’t really seem like you have much of an option. Obviously take door A. How is this choice even hard? choose Door B and you die, mutherfucker. And i don’t mean a physical death. I’m talking a spiritual one.

you’re already high in your head. You’re confused. You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground. You can’t even remember how long you have clean. All cause you’re now standing before this “option” of the pipe or the door.

your friend calls. he’s been clean for years. crazy that he should call right now. at such a moment. how odd. he asks how you’re doing. you’re so fucked you feel like you’ve been smoking oven cleaner and sniffing glue. “uhm…. not good” you say… you look down at hell infront of you and it looks so tempting. “Why the fuck did you tell him it ain’t good?” your head tells you. “you done gona and fucked up our chances of getting high”. but you know that fucking yourself over, atleast perceptually is the only thing to actually help you out now.

aren’t you supposed to be out doing stuff? Oh yeah, there’s a party tomorrow and you haven’t printed the posters yet. you fucked up, nico. yet again. but part of you knows that fucking up would be getting high, and that no matter how fucked up you fuck everything else, if you fuck up and get high you would REALLY fuck everything up.

but back to the room. the room with the druggies. they don’t give a fuck what you do. Why shoudl they? they all high. but you, you feel like everyone wants you to be high as well. but they don’t. just you do. anyway. your friends on the phone sounding confused cause you only can say “i’m not good”. I think he understands – by the sound in his voice.

oh. he’s here now, and so is she. so i think i might be okay. just don’t leave me alone or I might fucking do it.