I got sober, but I'm not a soldier.

It's not a miracle when needed

This blog entry isn't going to make much sense, I'm just rambling about God knows what, after all, my mind is a distorted puzzle, so I better start solving.
Decisions, I find it crazy how every single thing one does is a decision. I mean an action is an action in itself. Half measures availed nothing, so go big or go home.
Sleep, the little slices of death. Last night, I had a crazy dream or nightmare.. I've been dreaming a lot lately, mostly about using, but last night I popped M, by the time someone got me water, the gel capsol had already disolved. That bitter salty taste of the crystals were absorbed into every pore in my mouth. It was disgusting, so I finally got some water, swallowed half, the rest that I couldn't swallow I spat out. The guilt and remorse I felt afterwards was incredible, "I'm back at day one!" "Am I going to follow through with my OD plan?" "Should I just get back on track?" Even in my dream, the frenzy was stronger than ever, I couldn't get enough.
I'm actually getting choked up writing about this. That's my fear right there, of using again, throwing my life away, yet again. I like having morality, and a spiritual life to rely on. I'm grateful, that's all.

FUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUU, you're fucking with my mind, i fucking hate it.
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just let me sit in my pool of sorrows, let them flood upon my world. After all, I do like rain.
lonely, i feel unwanted, and inconvenient.
why am i still here? honestly, what's the fucking point.
i'm white knuckling life, it's fucking misery.
people are fucking poison.
why trust anyone when they'd leave you at the end anyways.
fuck it.

"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather."

Virgin Dreaming

Oh how I hate reality. I choose to dream till the day I die, that way I'll see and hear what I want. This is my world, just like yours is yours. Let's keep it that way, and dream big 'cause we're so small.
"The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be." Fuuuuck, I hate being in a self-pitying state. hlgfhlgjlgrlgj;asKLGhfvdklhvb

When you get what you want but not what you need

I need happiness and love, that is all I ask.

Wow, 90 days already.. Well 91 now, yet only synthetic happiness is present. Can't I be genuinely happy for a change? Perchance this is a blessing in disguise. These past 2 years of pure agony could possibly outburst in consistent happiness. Life's not like that though. It's redundant, and confusing. Maybe I just need to stop complicating things so much. I like complication though, it makes life somewhat more interesting. It get's annoying though. I'm not sane, not sane at all. I'm honestly considering signing myself into a psyche-ward at this point. I don't think that would help though. I'm not being grateful, that's it. No gratitude. When I wake up, I'll have to be grateful, maybe then, just then I'll be happier. Let's wait and see.

I'm your wishing well, I wish you well.

Untitled

-In bed by 145
-208, still can't sleep, tossing and turning, it's getting hot and uncomfortable.
-feel like hours are passing me by, I'm sweating, and can't breathe properly
-contemplating relapse and suicide.
-plotting.. jumping out of my window wouldn't kill me, I just hurt myself badly.
-thinking of other remedies.
-can't breathe, try a few breathing exercises.. hearts pounding.
-thoughts racing.. going crazy.
-mosquitoes everywhere.. they're all touching me,
-more intact with senses.
-the devil is getting me.
-i need to puke, instead i'll cry
insanity pure fucking insanity.
-310 now.. i can't take this anymore.

Thank you so much for helping me alexx, i love you <3

Reange me till I'm sane.

I'm bold and angry and tortured and tremendous and I notice when someone has changed their hair part, or when someone is wearing two very distinctly different shades of black or when someone changes the natural temperament of their voice on the phone. I don't give out empty praise. I'm not complacent or well-adjusted. I can't spend fifteen minutes breathing and stretching and getting in touch with myself. I can't spend three minutes finishing an article. I have no sense of direction and I can't sleep at night because I feel that there is so much to do and fix and change in the world, and I wonder every day if I am making a difference and if I will ever express the greatness within me, or if I will remain forever paralyzed by muddled madness inside my head. I've wept on every birthday I've ever had because life is huge and fleeting and I hate certain people and certain shoes and I feel that life is terribly unfair and sometimes beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary but also numbing and horrifying and insurmountable and I hate myself a lot of the time. The rest of the time I adore myself and I adore my life in this island and in this world we live in. This huge and wondrous, bewildering, brilliant, horrible world.

I am the designer of my own catastrophy.

Before I forget, I have a few things to let off my chest.
You're a hypocrite.
The other one's an unsympathetic asshole.
As for me, I'm just fucked.
I haven't been feeling myself, I need coffee to make me happy.
I have no balance, what the fuck is balance anyways?
I wanna relapse.
So last night was my first memorable lucid dream.
Started off with a bunch of the party crowd+Jeff at a subway station, I believe Rosedale?
Everyone's waiting at the wrong side, as the subway on the right side approaches, Jeff, Alexx, Genevieve and I hopped on. Then Jeff and I got off at the next stop to get everyone else. We lost everyone by the end of it. Then I'm at school with my old grade seven teacher. I didn't have the envelope needed to get my mark, so my teacher was about to fail me. I got very frustrated, and began using vulgar language (which btw, I never do with adults). Next thing I know, I'm in a doll house? Well, I can't really recall what exactly I was in, but it was some type of house. Next thing I see is a creepy looking blond doll. I talked her away from me while laying on the carpeted ground. From my right comes me.. From my gymnastic days. I'm leaning right over myself. I felt somewhat comforted. I kissed myself :s WTF. Then I vanished and came back the doll. She threatened to stab me in the eye. Then I woke up fully conscious. I said to myself "I get it!"
Due to my vulgar immature language, the doll was representing that immature part of me, and how I'm killing myself on the inside over it. However, I should still love myself, because everyone has flaws.
Anyways, then I went back to sleep, and that's when I was lucid dreaming. I was ready to do it all. I came across cocaine and heroine, I did it, no guilt nor shame. I took advantage of my dream to use, I liked it.
That is all.