Things started getting darker after that. So much meth. It wasn’t even a choice any more. It wasn’t something we just did to have fun on the weekends or to get right before parties. No, it was every single day. Line after line snorted up through straws. Burnt tin foil and empty pen barrels. Trash can of used needles.  It consumed all of us. When did we eat? Sleep? It was a way of life.

My mind wasn’t so straight any more, either. I made an A in that psychology class, but I didn’t sign up for another. It would have interfered with the puzzles. My cryptograms. The answers I was so desperately searching for, to life, to everything, I knew they were in the puzzles. When I wasn’t in the puzzles, I was tweeked out with a pen filling up sheets of paper with word after word of spunt out ramblings.

March 7, 2002

Insanity takes over all remaining rationality, as you keep questioning the stability of your mind. Feeling somewhat off balance? Tell me the state of your mind after it has been raped. Paranoia creeps in as a voice in your ear whispers suicide. Should you give in to the madness? Can’t suppress the burning rage from attacking the chaotic thoughts colliding in your brain. What will happen when your psychotic fury eats away the last of your rationality? Speaking in confused fragments, you tremble over your inability to function any more. Right before your breakdown, your chemical savior kicks in. The voices become silent as you are once again in control.


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