I've started to write this post maybe five times. Apparently I have nothing worth saying.

Still here. Still alive, still sick.....appreciating silence more than usual.

Ain't Born Typical

Note: The Kills are awesome. Check em out.

My favorite these days -

I'm bored of cheap and cheerful

I want expensive sadness

Hospital bills, parole

Open doors to madness

I want you to be crazy cos you're boring baby

when you're straight

I want you to be crazy cos you're stupid baby

when you're sane

I'm sick of social graces

Show your shark-tipped teeth

Lose your cool in public

Dig that illegal meat

Cos love is just a dialogue

You can't survive on ice cream

You got the same needs as a dog

It's alright to be mean

It's all right to be mean

Damn, I am so faded tonight. My eyes are throbbing. Didn't sleep a wink today. I was so hungry all day. The food in these parts is so shitty. Having grown up in or right outside of cities I'm used to having access to great food. Hicks up here think mozzarella only comes shredded in plastic bags, salads are strictly iceberg, bread white and goopy, and despite being in the midst of the biggest maple syrup producing states, they love the fake shit. So without the crushing desire for pastries, ice cream, and chocolate that I was so lucky to have for the early m-done years, the thought of most food makes me sick. But if I don't eat I'm the biggest bitch. And so it was, is, today. I got some soup on the way to work and ate half of it and some fried dumplings from the chinese place but that's not really sufficient for the whole night.

Sometimes when I'm on low ass doses of the done and then if it's a bad day, I do shit most people would probably consider just lame. Like, today, Mikey was just on my nerves so much. He just bitches about everything. It's like no matter what, if fuckin gold coins fell from the sky he'd bitch about the bruises on his head. And he was full throttle today, and I was in no mood for his shit. He waited all morning to go pick up some m-done pills and then when he got home he was all, "I'm so hungry but I had no money or I would have got food when I was out". Well he did have money but he didn't want to use it, so finally I got him to go into town and get a hamburger for us to share. He was gone FOREVER and brings home some soggy ass shit, all cold and slimy and mushy fries. I was so irrationally starving and sweating, I wanted to rip his throat out. Long story short, soggy or not I really did want that half a burger but my psycho side just couldn't find a place to rest today and I ended up stomping the shit out of that burger rather than eating it and I left it on the floor and the dogs ate it. How fucked is that? Eh? I know I can be an asshole, but it's generally a long time coming. I didn't eat anything when I was always high, but trying to sleep on, like, no done with my stomach all aching, man I just couldn't rest.
I feel so guilty wanting to break up w/Mikey. I know I have to, I'd be doing both of us a disservice not to. I love him, he's my best friend, and I hope we can be friends one day, but I'm just not as happy as I know I could be. I can't even kill a gnat flying around my head without feeling a wrench in my heart. And I know it must hurt him somehow when I try to talk about going our own ways. Maybe he thinks this is what he wants, but I know he would be happier too. I think he's so attached to the idea that he needs me to buy a house and and just to live, but he doesn't. He's totally capable and I think he would figure that out soon enough, to his benefit. But I'm beginning to realize that he's not going to make it easy. I'm going to come out looking like a bitch or a slut. See, we work at the same place, in totally different areas, but we see all the same people. And I'm one of, like, maybe five women on at night. Only two of us are under fifty, and of the two of us I'm the only one who's not gay. So that leaves a lot of hot, twenty to thirty-something guys coming and going by my hut all night long. It's kind of inevitable that we all talk here and there. And it's likely that if people know we broke up, I may hang out more with people from work. And I can see that causing problems. And in situations like that the woman always comes out the guilty party. Bullshit I say.
I know why it is that way. I'm aware of the whole whore/virgin stand off. I just don't want to play by those stupid rules - which makes me think of Tom Robbins. I'm currently re-reading Jitterbug Perfume and that man has some super insight into the human condition. For instance:

but here was a believer who refused to grovel, a man who stood up to Shiva, to Buddha, to the gods of his own race, whoever they might be, who stood up to them and demanded an accounting for a system in which pleasure must be paid for with pain, a system in which the only triumph over suffering was a hard won oblivion

I just don't think that we should have to feel guilty for pursuing that which makes us pleased and satisfied. The pursuit of pleasure and happiness should be considered a legitimate path.

Live by the shit, die by the Same......

HEROIN



I don't know just where I'm going

But I'm going to try for the kingdom if I can

Cause it makes me feel like a man

When I put a spike into my vein

Then I tell you things aren't quite the same



When I'm rushing on my run

And I feel just like jesus' son

And I guess I just don't know



I have made a big decision

I'm going to nullify my life

Cause when the blood begins to flow

When it shoots up the droppers neck

When I'm closing in on death



You can't help me not you guys

All you sweet girls with all you sweet talk

You can all go take a walk

And I guess I just don't know



I wish I was born a thousand years ago

I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas

On a great clipper ship

Going from this land to that

I put on a sailors suit and cap



Away from the big city

Where a man cannot be free

Of all the evils of this town

And of himself and those around

Oh, and I guess i just don't know



Heroin, be the death of me

Heroin, it is my wife and it's my life

Because a mainer to my vein

Leads to a center in my head

And I'm better off than dead



When the smack begins to flow

Then I really don't care anymore

About all the jim jims in this town

And everybody putting everybody else down

And all of the politicians makin crazy sounds

And all the dead bodies piled up in mounds, yeah



Wow, that heroin is in my blood

And the blood is in my head

Yeah, the gods good as dead

Oooh, the gods good as dead

I just don't care

And I guess I just don't know



-Lou Reed



I totally can relate to a lot of what he's putting out there. I know how he feels when he says it makes him feel like a man. There is something about being high on H which solidifies so many things within me that are so fragile and breakable without it. I can handle almost anything when I'm high. I always tell doctors and whatwho that I feel like I'm normal when I'm high and just like a mess without it. I wish my head could be like that all on its own without chemical help, but I just don't know if that's possible.
"When I'm rushing on my run.......I feel like jesus' son" I know just what he means. You're so focused on the outcome, it seems so important, like there's nothing else worth worrying about. For me, I feel as addicted to copping as using. When you stop using, it's like what do you do with all the time. How do you replace the need for a rush? It's easy if you have unlimited time and money - but I don't. The daily grind is no replacement. I know people are always wondering why I don't want to recall why I quit in the first place. But to that the answer is, it was not my choice. That honor belonged to the State of Massachusetts. They threw a monkey wrench into my routine. Bush was still president and there was some sort of influx of money to the war on drugs, and my spot was swarming with cops. They knew who I copped from, there's cameras all over the place. It got to where I could rarely, if ever, drive to the block w/out cops stopping me. And not, like, normally either. They would come from nowhere and screech right up to my door, sometimes with guns drawn. What the fuck is that about? I have no firearm purchases on my record, I'm not a violent offender, yet they still felt the need to show such force. And honestly I felt more bad about losing my moms money than about the possibility of jail. Jail scares me because I know it would be unbearable amounts of time in my own head. I'm not physically scared of prison, I'm mentally terrified. Of course there are always other places to get dope, but they just seemed so out of reach, I'm not a chamillionaire. But it's not like I was ever like, for my own good, I must stop. I didn't feel physically fatigued, rehab always remarked on how abnormally healthy Mike and I were for H addicts. And technically, I've never even been clean. Methadone is an opiate. And I pay for it, out of pocket. A lot. What's the frickin difference, isn't methadone basically legal, crap quality dope?
I like how Lou Reed writes that "he's made a decision" because we all have. We made the choice to be this close to H. No one can help us, really. It is what it is and everyone has to find their own way. I am not ready to leave it behind, but I don't think cruising on the M-done for a few years to get back up is stealing from others. Anyone can get into a m-done program these days. Around here at least, they take new people at my clinic everyday, so I'm not taking a place away from someone else. M-done, H, oc's they're all interchangeable, more or less. I didn't know what I was getting into w/the m-done. I'm almost more hooked on that shit than the H, and I don't even like it. If I knew what I know now about it.....things would be different..

I am the girl you know, so sick she cannot try.....

Okay, I admit I read the following in a current Vanity Fair article about Johnny Depp. But whatever, the information is still worthwhile. Keith Richards recorded some cool shit after he got arrested w/22 grams and thought he was going to jail for trafficking rather than possession which was the eventual charge - I bet it was all for him too. He probably started w/an oz or two. That would be so lovely. Have you ever seen the scene in Departed where Jack Nicholson throws the coke all over the place and tells the woman he's with to roll around in it? Imagine having enough money and H to roll around in it? That'd be the life. But anyway, Keith Richards does covers of weird stuff like Dream, Dream, Dream from, like, the 50's. It's really, I want to say creepy in a beautiful way if that makes any sense to anyone but me.


I thought I would feel really shitty today. But really it's as if I never got high. I still get my 5mg in the morning and that makes it so I get at least four to six hours of sleep if I go to bed right when I get home. That makes it so the worst part of the night, when I feel the most like smashing my head against the cinder blocks, is occupied by working. The worst is actually days off when I have all this empty time. I sleep during the day and then I want to sleep through the night too, but that's when I toss and turn and sweat and I can feel it in my mouth, in my jaw somehow.
I know that logically it might not make that much sense to stay on just 5mg. It's totally not even close to a "therapeutic" level, they love to say. But it my mind zero is just bad. And even though maybe in reality I'm just drawing out the inevitable I feel like I'm saying goodbye to a lover. That's the way I've always felt in rehab, like I'm there recuperating from a violent breakup, not with a substance but with a living thing. And even though I don't love methadone as much, it's still heartbreaking. I know people don't understand that unless they keep opiates as a best friend and lover too. In my life that plant has provided more comfort and consolation than anyone including my mother, father, sister, brother, boyfriends, and best friends. I can't just sever the ties, I don't want to.
But I made a deal with Mike that I would not try to get fucked up again until we go to NYC. And I want to, I mean to, stick to that. I'm telling myself that if I hold out I will be so blissfully high. I don't think I can even look at VV w/out thinking of dope. I associate everything Kills with H. I know it will not be The Kills but it might be even better. What I've heard so far is good. And Jack White and his boys are always entertaining if nothing else. Plus if I get high from now to then how will I have enough money to enjoy the trip?

Being still on 5mg of methadone, I didn't get all those prickly little tingling in my arms and face as I shot up, but within thirty seconds a felt a wave of well being and my face was so itchy that I could hardly keep my hands away as I walked out of the McDonalds bathroom I just booted in.

Nerve racking going down there as I have a warrant in Mass too. But we saw, like, no cops..just one. But it's really the only way up here. If you try to buy H up here people charge you twenty bucks for one bag they scooped half out of already. Around here we only get powder. If it's good, and it was, it's like a pale beige, almost white very fine powder. Definitely good. Did five bags, was still high this morning.

Around where we go, it's really hard to find people who will sell in grams. We knew people when we stopped using but people don't know us like they did back when so we had to buy in bundles but still way cheaper than buying up here. $80 for ten bags and two needles. First time I bought points down there. Easy. Clean.

Best sleep I've had in so long.

Dope At Last......

Long Time Coming it was. Totally worth it all.

Just Another Shitty Day

I guess I kind of fucked up this week. I got all really excited that Jack White was gonna be around here. And when I checked their web site they had two shows in New York. One I could make it to. So I talked Mike into really wanting to go and we got tickets a couple weeks ago. But then I checked the site again and they added a show in Boston. At the House of Blues which is pretty small if I remember correctly. And seriously, how can I pass that up? So this a.m. I convinced him that we had enough money to get tickets for that show too. The problem is, apparently we didn't.
He owed money to a kid at work and he happened to drive by us tonight while Mike was still here bringing me food. So obviously he stopped and asked for his money. I offered to run inside to the ATM figuring it was no problem. But turns out we over drafted. I just don't get how people keep track of stuff down to the penny. I checked the balance before I ordered the tickets. We had almost two hundred bucks in there, which I know is like nothing to most people. But places wait too long to recoup their money and it fucks people. I think businesses should have to be on top of sending their shit to the bank or whatever or else they should lose out. Someplace must have taken their money from something I did last week and I already thought it had been taken out because I am stupid enough to believe the balance they tell me at the bank.
Anyway, I figure fifty bucks, that sucks but I'm not gonna kill myself over it. I'll just try to add money to the account tomorrow so it doesn't get worse. But Mikey just bugs out. It's that kind of thing that makes me crazy. Everything is such an excuse for drama for him. When I came back to the car from checking the balance the kid was still talking to Mike, so he acted normal in front of him. But I just knew it was coming. I swear he pulls like a one eighty. People probably would think I was crazy if I said Mike was a jerk. "Oh right," they'd say, "he seems fine to me". But just wait, wait till they leave and here it goes. As soon as the kid pulled away he's at it. It's my fault for making him get the tickets, we're gonna be broke, look what I did now, we won't be able to pay rent, blah, blah, blah!!
SHUT UP!!!
I know I'm not perfect. But if he needs something or is upset, I'm pretty much willing to do whatever to make it right. Not just for him or people I love but everyone. But he just is so self centered. Everything in the world seems to be about how it affects him. I'm pissed.
And I woke up late for work which I NEVER do. I've only ever overslept like twice in my life. Generally I can't sleep for shit. Waking up every few minutes it seems. I'm usually turning off the clock before it goes off. But today I fell asleep so heavily, I just slept right past it. I must have been really sleep deprived.
I gave my laptop a virus I guess. I feel really stupid when it comes to computers. I was sort of on the cusp of the technology revolution. We didn't have a lot of computer classes in school. I've taken one college comp course and it helped so much. But that was for word and Excel. I wish I could take a class like that for the Internet. I know I can I just have to do it. But it sucks because I'm just waiting for the stupid thing to scan itself and see if it can fix what I did by itself and if not I suppose I'll need help fixing it. But it means I'm stuck on just the work comp which blocks me from most places, mainly and most annoying being music sights. Time would fly here if I could fuck around on YouTube and stuff.
All in all I'm just another miserable person griping about their life to imagined people out there.
Later.

Almost

I remember people telling me not to get on methadone. They warned me that I would end up as addicted to it as H, but worse. At least with H you know that four, maybe five days and all but a few insignificant physical symptoms will remain. After the initial detox period, I found with H, that the rest was mainly psychological. As in my thoughts were consumed by cravings and daydreams about getting high. But with the methadone, it's all more subtle, but so long and drawn out. For me, I've tried it fast and slow, methadone detox is months of mild withdrawals most of the time, peppered with the occasional bout of diarrhea. The lack of sleep really starts to get to me. It's so hard to get comfortable when you're laying still, aware of every physical sensation. There's no distractions when you're laying in bed and it's quiet. You can feel every muscle spasm, every bead of developing sweat, your thumping heartbeat, and racing thoughts.
I was super close to getting high on Friday. I actually went to the only place I know of these days in Brattleboro where I might find dope. I haven't actively used for over five years because of the methadone, so I really don't know anyone anymore who does that shit. Most of the people I used with have moved, died, are in jail or disappeared by now. But there are a few places that seem like they will always be there. One of those I feel okay about walking in and knocking on the door unannounced and uninvited.
I drove myself into Bratt which was stupid because my car is illegal in VT and I have warrants over there too. But I just had it in my head that the only way I would ever be able to sleep ever again was if I found some opiates. When I start to think that way, all fear and apprehension seems to float away and I'll do things I maybe wouldn't normally do. (Note: I'm not sure this would happen if dope were readily available. There would be no need to become reckless in such a scenario). But I made it into town fine, no police sightings. And rather than drive into town I parked on the outside, really close to the NH border at the train station and I opted to walk the rest of the way. I thought that way I would be less conspicuous to any cops, but there were frickin cops everywhere. They were driving in circles around the few main blocks and they were on foot in the area where I could have asked random people for dope, so that was out. Thankfully, I kept telling myself, I dyed my hair brown just the day before so I didn't look entirely like myself. Many of the Bratt town cops would know me by sight and they make a game of checking the warrant lists for people they know. I know this because I've been told as much by cops themselves in the past when I've been picked up for a warrant. Anyway, I made it up to the house which really isn't far from the train station but it's up a big hill. I started off feeling cold as it's been really gloomy and drizzling rain for weeks up here. By the time I walked up to the deck, I was dripping sweat, I felt like I had to crap my pants and my jeans were chaffing my thighs. It's strange that almost all places that you have to go to get dope sort of look the same. Obviously there are differences but rural, urban, whatever, you generally have to go into a shitty, dank, darkly painted or dingy yellowed hallway. Much of the time someone conducts the deal in the hall. Sometimes you go in an apartment. And many times the apartments are surprisingly nice compared to the hallway. Even in some of the crappiest cities I've been to. There can be throngs of dealers outside and then inside everything is meticulous. Maybe the apartment is owned by a girlfriend or elderly relative. Many times the apartments are shit too. It's more interesting to see the contrast of the mildew and falling plaster compared to the floral, ruffled shams and matching tablecloths littered with ceramic figurines of angels and kittens. Anyway, this particular apartment I went to on Friday is one of the shitty ones, no angels, no kittens, no flowers, pretty much nothing pretty and delicate about it. Everyone who lives there is on disability and if they're not junkies they're on their way or recovering. I like the guy who owns the place, let's call him J. He's quiet and soft-spoken and even though I know I'm always buying him something when I give him my money, there's something about him that makes me not really care. But he didn't answer the door. Some guy I've never met before comes to the door all puffed up with no shirt on. He's kind of handsome in a mean way but he's really no taller than me at five two, so he's obviously got a Napoleon complex and we immediately don't like each other. I asked if J still lived there and I heard Carmel's voice from inside (that's the lady who I got kicked out of the Brattleboro M-done clinic with/because of) so I kind of talked over him to her while pushing my way through the door. I also didn't like him because as soon as he opened the door he exclaimed very loudly, "Wow, you look high!", and I was like, "Ah, no, it's the fucking opposite actually". So then he jumped down my throat like he ran the place, "Well, what do you want?" I told them dope or bupes or something. So he was all, "I'll give you two bupes for forty". And I said three for forty and Carmel said yes and he flipped and wouldn't do it so I was all fuck it I'll just take em, whatever. But then he pulls out his shit and all he has are Suboxone which I don't want at all. So I called him out and said I didn't want that because they have nal-whatever, that stupid opiate blocker which would make me sick because I'm on methadone and not sick enough. And they were all pissed and telling me I didn't know what I was talking about because I had said bupes and Suboxone has bupenorphine in it. It does, I agree, but it also has that other shit. Subutex has just the bupenorphine and you can shoot it without getting sick. I guess you can shoot suboxone too but I've been told it makes you feel really sick for a while and then you feel high after that, I'm not willing to try it. The one time I shot some liquid medication I didn't know exactly what it was, I thought I was going to die.
So anyway, I didn't want the suboxone, they really do nothing for me but make me sick and give me a headache. So I tried to ask if they had anything else, or if anyone else did. But by then this guy and I really were about to jump on each other. I had my hand on my mace but I knew I was outnumbered, so I was trying to keep everything in perspective and get out without a scene. Nobody else was going to step on his toes by offering to get me something else. I know they wanted me to buy their last suboxone so they could use my money to buy something better for themselves. But this was really going nowhere. The guy was muttering about how he was trying to help me out but if I couldn't see that then whatever. So I ended up being like, "Go Fuck yourself and I stomped out. So now I'm not so sure about going back. If I knew that asshole wasn't there I would. But he seemed all over-coked up or on steroids or something. I'm totally a downer person and the other end of the spectrum throws me into flight, or fight more likely.
After that I was not up for dealing with the police so I left town thinking I'd go to Keene but when I got there it just seemed like more effort than it was worth. So, defeated I went home sulking. I wanted Mike to drive me to the city so I didn't have to embarrass myself asking people for dope who look at me like I'm the devil. I prefer it when I don't even need to do more than get out of the car and people ask me what I want. But he wouldn't and I didn't want to go alone and end up getting the car impounded.
End result: many Aleve's, klonadine (hydroxy HLC, however you spell it), vitamin D, and California Poppy extract. That put me out for, like, five hours or so. Then I sort of inevitably toss and turn until about six when I can convince Mike to go to the clinic.

Ordered my tickets for Dead Weather last week I think. Something to look forward to. Love Jack White. And then VV's got a great voice too, can't wait to see them. Hopefully we'll get a hotel in NYC and stay for a day or so and go shopping too.

I feel sort of disconnected. Somehow, the Internet has been unhooked from the back gate and I've become so used to it being there as a source of entertainment that I just didn't know what to do with myself without it. Of course I read a lot of my current book and a bunch of magazines, but still, twelve hours is a lot of time to fill. Of those twelve hours, much of it is down-time, probably over half.

I just want to be really clear. I thought I explained well enough that it wasn't I who called my Mom for bail. Mikey did, totally against my advice. I would have much preferred to wait until the following day and just go to the arraignment. Then she wouldn't have even been involved. But they wouldn't listen to me. I even fought over it with her. But all the cops were, like, "stop being a brat and listen to your mother". So she got her way. If it ever happened again. I would be very firm about not calling her right from the get-go. I might be an addict but I've always paid my own way for it. She got her money back. I finished my shit, went to all the dates and jumped through all the hoops.

And I always appreciate feedback but one more clarification....I think cops and jail are a pretty reasonable deterrent. We're talking about human freedom. Being able to do what I please, when I please versus being locked in a cage. I'm not sure there's too many things besides freedom which can be withheld from man and cause more damage, besides maybe food or water. Withdrawal I'd do again and again as a free woman, I won't sit in a cage. I'll go without money, permanent shelter, transportation and food, but I do NOT want to sit in a cage. Ruined veins, blood infections, sore joints, unbearable weakness, sneezing, dripping, sweating, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, you name it - I would take any of them on my own terms as opposed to sitting in a cage, held captive by other humans. I think I've made my point.

I'm not so Sure about Staying Clean...

I've never really been wholehearted about getting clean. I don't really want to. I feel forced to by the police, society at large, family, work. But I don't agree. I've tried for years now and the whole time, five years and some, it's like I'm biding my time. Knowing the whole time in the back of my mind that there was no way in fucking hell I'd never use dope again. It's like the whole time I was thinking, if I can just set things up so I can get high, if I can just get a job where no one will notice (I have that), if I can find a way to make enough money, whatever it may be, I guess I always planned to use again.
The only time I really feel normal is with H in my blood. I act like other people then, it's when I'm not high that I'm weird. My thoughts race so fast. As the mg of M-done drop, I can almost watch my own thoughts start to go faster and faster, my metabolism speeds up and I'm just on hyper drive and people are like what the fuck is your deal. When I'm high I'm calm and thoughtful and pleasant to be around. I know people think that's bullshit. Sure, I turn into a freak if I run out of money - that's the problem. The system is set up for us to go broke using unless we resort to criminal activity. That's fucked. It should be reasonably priced, regulated for purity and quality and sold as a prescription just like any other psychiatric drug. What makes Zoloft okay and not Heroin? Zoloft has been proven to cause withdrawals when people try to stop taking it, it changes the chemistry of your brain, regulates mood, calms you down, see the similarities??? I mean every time I go to rehab they try to send me home more drugged than when I came in. They have all sorts of depression pills, anxiety tabs, opiate replacement therapy, anything but what I want and what works until it runs out.
I only got clean to begin with because I got arrested and they were up my ass and I figured I would rather take M-done in relative freedom than do heroin in jail. But that's like choosing a punch in the stomach over a punch in the face.
I always drove to cop. Mikey was too lazy and didn't enjoy the whole chase as much as I do. I believe I'm as addicted to the rush of copping as I am to actually using dope. So I would drive over an hour almost every day to pick up enough H for me, Mike, and a few folks who kept us funded. This particular summer day was really sucky and I had finally convinced this kid J to give me $150 and I was going to go get whatever I could. Up where we live you can sell a bag you get in the city for $5 for $20. So it was worth it for me to take the risk driving because this kid basically expected nothing in return but like five bags. I ended up getting two bundles which is expensive but they were free for me.
As you left the city there was a 'scenic' pullover right off the highway where I would often stop and get high on the way home. If I was sick or if I wasn't. I wasn't sick this particular day but it was a sticky, hot summer day and I thought why not sit in the A/C and get high. So I booted three bags and was lolling around, eyes closed, all my shit laying out around me still. I cracked my eyes some time later, right before the two police got out of their cruiser we made eye contact and for that split second we were all just human. And then POW!! Before I had time to react they were on me. They didn't bother with the normal formalities of 'license and registration, please'. I barely had a moment to push the spoon out of sight, shove the remainder of the bags and my point in my underwear and they were pulling me out of the car. There was no point in pretense, we all knew what the deal was. I had deceived cops so many times before, walked away with my score. I really didn't want to give them my shit. But they had it out for me, they had let me go too many times because there was no female cop to search me, or we convinced them we hadn't picked up yet. I had this little blue dress on and it was really short, and my underwear was kind of loose, not at all what I should have been wearing for concealment purposes. Bags of dope were basically hanging out the sides of my underwear. They stopped short basically of reaching down and pulling it out themselves. There were two Mass. State Police and they were pushing at me, grabbing at my dress and squeezing my arms. I laughed as I reached down to pull the bags out, doing all I could to keep a few hidden as well as my needle, but there was really no place for anything to go at this point. All I cared about was that I had already shot up and was high enough to spend a few hours in jail.
The worst part of being kept in a holding cell, for me, is the time I have to sit there in my own head. I know that's the point, to get you to think about what you've done. But feeling no remorse, I find it cruel and unusual punishment to not offer a book or even a pamphlet to flip through.
The cops told me my bail would probably only be about $30. So I called my nicest dealer, he wasn't happy but said he would send someone to pick me up. And then I learned my bail had been set at $5000 and they didn't work with bail bondsmen. So I called Mike and someone called my Mom who came and bailed me out even though I told her not to because I knew she needed that money and what if I fucked up and she lost it. The police kept telling her she'd get the money back when we went to court. I told her it was a lie, you don't get it back until I complete the whole process, not just the court appearance. You know how first you show up and they basically just tell you when to come back? Well, you don't generally get your bail money back until after you come to court the last time because the idea is that you want the money back badly enough to show up and get it. I was shocked as shit my bail was so high, I never got in trouble for real drugs before, only weed and assault, and it was obviously personal use. They said they were trying to make an example out of me because they have such a problem with people from VT & NH coming down to the city to buy dope. It's not really the city, we just call it that, it's like a mini-city. But it's easy as heck to buy whatever you want there. But if you have green plates you may as well fly a banner out your window which reads 'Junkie'. Anyway, my Mom drove almost two hours to come get me and we stayed at the Northampton Hotel until next morning's courthouse rendezvous. She was obviously pissed and I kept nagging her to just give me twenty bucks and her keys and I'd be back in half an hour but she wouldn't. She gave me some Adivan which helped me sleep for a little bit. I wasn't really sick yet, it hadn't been more than six hours. I wasn't good, but I wasn't that bad either. I made it uncomfortably through the morning until after court at which nothing happened other than I was told when to come back and we managed to convince the judge to give my Mom back three grand so she only had two left on me, I felt a little better about that. But I knew no matter how much I wished I didn't have to, I would come back here and maybe get caught and lose that money. Different story for a different day, but I did go back, and I did get caught, and they let me go. But that's another tangent for later.
Anyway, by the time I finally got caught I was sort of ready to try Methadone. I had tried to get clean so many times with nothing, and we had done the Suboxone thing. In fact, we still had, like, containers full at that time. The place that prescribed them to us, HCRS in Brattleboro, at that time gave us, well they gave Mikey a month at a time but me only two weeks. I was pretty adamant that I would never stop smoking weed and they didn't like that. But we would take them for a few days until we got paid, then wait until we started to feel shitty and then use for a couple weeks until we were ready for a break and then do the whole thing over. So by the end, we had a small stash. So the court made a deal with me that if I stayed in Methadone treatment and did six months probation, then the charge wouldn't be accessible by a background check. I'm not really sure how that works, the cops all know it happened, so it's not like it's erased. I see it on my record when I've gotten copies of it since then. In VT, a lot of people represent themselves or something because when you go to court they give you a copy of your record and whoever else, if anyone, was involved in the incident. It's kind of crazy, actually. I've been arrested for stealing and they even put the names and addresses of the supermarket employees who made statement against me. What if I was some kind of crazed lunatic out for revenge and I went to their house and fucked them up? I bet it happens sometimes. Of course, the thought never crossed my mind. Anyway, the point is that when they tell you something won't be on your record, that may not mean what you think it means.
But, the end of this long, boring story is that I've been on methadone since then. Not exactly happily, but okay, good enough, and I don't have to worry about doing something illegal. I just hate cops, they terrify me actually. They have way too much power, and that's what has kept me miserably clean for all this time. I'm really beginning to reconsider my choice.

I basically just sit here just in case anything happens all night long. Until the last two hours which are slammed. I can't believe I even have a moment to write this. But it was quite busy a moment ago and one of the guys who works here who Mike has talked about before just drove up to the gate to leave. I normally just wave selectors through but he motioned for me to come outside, so I did. Reluctantly and obviously in a hurry. But I was friendly because I always am unless you piss me off first, especially at work. He asked if I would do him a favor, which is odd, but I complied, assuming of course the favor was within reason. He asked if I could take down his number for Mike. Normal enough, so of course I did. I even read it back to him and pleasantly told him to have a nice day. Smile on my lips. And I went back to work.
Then, as I'm busy logging in another driver Mike calls from the warehouse and asks if that same guy had already left. So I figured he wanted to make sure I got his number for him, so I said I did figuring it would get me off the phone quickly so I could get back to what I was doing. I really don't like dealing with personal drama in public and in particular at work. So I'm all, "yeah, I got his number" and Mikey starts hollering that it's because they got into a fight and blah, blah, blah. Okay, so how is this my problem? I mean, really, what does he want me to do? Care? He's 30 yrs old, grow up. Now I'm going to have to deal with him being a complete ass all day probably. Who gets into a fight at work? I've never wanted to beat any one's ass at work. Nobody is worth it to me. They're not my friends, I don't care if they ever are. But Mike just has to rise to every challenge, or perceived challenge.
I really wish I did not have to go home with him. If I didn't have to get my stupid ass M-done, I could ride home with Laura and then just avoid him all day. Fat chance at that. He'll follow me around being like, "I'm gonna mace him. He's gonna get his ass kicked." Whatever. He's an idiot. i just don't want to be part of it. If it weren't for him, my life would be pretty fun and peaceful.

I LoVE JAcK WhITe