ghost castle


i want to be barred out of my fucking mind.

i've been sober more the last few weeks than i have been in a year, or more. i've quit drinking. i've quit pills. i barely smoke. and when i do smoke, it isn't much. it isn't 2g a day. there's a lot to appreciate about sobriety. there's magic there that you can't see when you're deep in the magic of drugs.

but right now? fuck it. i'm sick of it. i'm gonna smoke, because i have plenty of smoke, but i'm not gonna enjoy it. i don't want to feel that way. what i really want is to be barred. i want a handful of klonos, xannies. footballs. bars. hulks! god, i'd kill for some hulks. i don't want to be in this world anymore. i want to be in my own head. lost. infinite stranded.

my mind is racing trying to figure out how to get my hands on some. not getting my hands on any would be the best thing for me. but i don't want the best thing for me. i want to feel good.

goddamn the peace that mocks me with its fleeting nature. goddamn the meds that take too. fucking. long. to kick. in. and stop working after just a few missed doses. goddamn the disappointing reality of my "normal." you know what never disappoints?